Knocked up by the Mechanic

I scrolled through my phone for the security company number my dad had programmed in, but the battery petered out in my hands.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

What if those men were coming to get back at me for kicking them off the property when they were hoping to score with Gianna. What if they wanted revenge and planned to take it out on me. I heard a door slam and the sound of steps on the loose gravel. The sky lit up almost pink with a flash of heat lightning. Then the power surged. The lights dimmed and the electricity stopped before powering on again, and my heart did the same kind of surge in my chest.

Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.

Holy Shit. Please don’t let the power go out.

Then the lights went completely dark and the even the hum of electricity stopped.

I knew the security system would go down when the power went out.

I was standing alone, in the blackness, in a silly little dress with a thundering, panic-stricken heart and absolutely nothing to protect me.

…

Dad’s .38 was in my bedside table. I just had to find my way in the dark to get it. I turned into the total eclipse and put my arms out to both sides. I took small fast steps and headed in the general direction of the grand staircase. The carpet ended, and I could feel the cold Italian tile under my bare feet. A few more steps and my toes hit the edge of the first stair. I grabbed for the banister, missing it in the dark. I grabbed again twice, until I felt the familiar smooth wood under my palm. I tripped up the first few steps and forced myself to slow down, covered my heart with my free hand hoping it would stop it from beating so hard.

“Wyatt!” I cried out into the dark. I knew he’d left, that he was no longer in the house, but I wished with everything in me that he was. Wyatt would never hurt me and he’d never let anyone else do so either.

When I reached the top of the stairs, I was winded from exertion. I stepped into thin air when the steps ran out, fell into the hallway, but I used my arms to break my fall. From there, I crawled down the main hallway instead of standing up. Light flickered outside, but it was too weak to be anything more than the sky momentarily lighting up. A low rumble accompanied it and I stopped crawling, closed my eyes, and said a quick prayer. Voices cut through the dark, but they were outside and I couldn’t discern what they were saying. My arms shook with fear and it was difficult to stay the course, but I wanted to get away from the voices and feel my hands on the gun. I vowed to never stay home alone again, to never get drunk, to never wish ill will on another and to start going back to church again, starting this Sunday. The voices became louder and I wasn’t sure if it meant they were closer or that they were getting more agitated and yelling—if I had to choose one, I hoped for the latter.

It flashed in my mind that maybe I’d never see my dad and Stefano again, that I wouldn’t get to say goodbye to them. I felt the baseboard on the wall and then finally, the door to my room. I pulled myself to standing with my whole body trembling and slipped into the darkness, closing the door behind me and securing the lock. I felt my way to the windows and pulled back the drapes hoping to allow a tiny bit of light from outside to pierce through the blackness, but all I could see was the white of my dress and the outline of some clouds out the window. On my way to the bedside table, I hit my knee on the frame of my bed. The pain made me limp, but I secured the gun in my hands and slid down the bed to the floor and put my head on my knees. From there, the tears flowed and I finally felt some sense of relief, still I tried to stay silent and swallow my sobs. If anyone came in my room, I could fire in self-defense.

I heard an engine start up and the sound of wheels rolling over gravel. I stood and stepped to the window only to see the pool maintenance van now backing out of the driveway. The glare from its headlight lit up the whole yard, but I couldn’t see the license plate or discern how many people were in the vehicle. Did they drop someone off or were they really just leaving? My chest heaved with emotion and I threw myself down on my bed still clinging to the pistol. I cried real tears for my mom, for Kat, for the love I’d feel if I ever got to hug my dad and brother again. I cried until I was raw inside and rung out like an old dishrag.