3ENJOY ~
(DARIA):
APRIL
SUNDAY MORNING 6 AM
Jane took the liberty of tending to my wounded palm back at her place. Damn. Did it stung like one mother. We were in her family's kitchen, sitting across from each other at the breakfast table. I sat on uncomfortable big wooden chair with an ass numbing cushion. Dubbed "The Royal Throne" by her odd stricken family. It was the only chair that matched the wood polished table. The rest of the chairs were made out of cheap metal. They were the type of chairs that were folded up & taken outside. Usually for family BBQ or something. As to what happened to the matching set of chairs? I haven't a clue. Probably used in some art project. I left an open bleeding hand on a pile of napkins at the edge of the table, & my other was clutched in a fist so tight on my lap my knuckles turned white.
"Ow!" I practically yelled for the fifth time. "Has anyone told you, you'd make a really lousy nurse?"
"Has anyone told YOU, you have NO pain tolerance whatsoever?" Jane scoffed. "I'm good with paint brushes & colored pencils, not gauze or bandages, Morgendorffer! Now are you going stop squirming? Or am I just going have to force rubbing alcohol on you?"
A huff escaped out of me. To distract myself from the swollen stinging sensation coming from my hand, I stared at the tool that caused the long gash in the first place. The knife. At first glance, it appeared to be an ordinary hunting weapon. It was silver, with a curved, serrated-edged blade, & a wooden handle. Upon a closer inspection, bizzare engraved squiggles can be seen along the reflective surface. I took a couple advanced language classes in school. They could've been traditional Hanzi characters, maybe even Kanji, but I couldn't read any of the letters on its blade.
Jane finished the bandaging by severely tightening the gauze around my hand which caused me to whip it back. I felt myself scowl when I found my friend smirking at me.
"You did that on purpose. Didn't you?"
"Gulity." She laughs.
I massaged my hand. "Well. As punishment I'm not thanking you."
"Fair enough."
A pause.
Bluntly. I had to ask, "Do you think we should've left the knife where it was?"
Jane shrugged as I heard a clutter from her gathering all the first-aid items to their rightful places. She jokingly answers with different question, "Do you think it belongs to a serial killer?"
"That's not funny." I snapped back.
"Ooh! Touchy. Why do you ask?"
I explained the whole ordeal with the vintage vehicle & its owner. Jane didn't say anything the entire time I spoke. I couldn't tell if she was silently judging me or if she was coming up with a clever insult of how stupidly paranoid I was.
Instead. Jane replies with, "So the car is giving you the worst case of the heebie jeebies." She crossed her arms. "You know. Aside from what you told me, giving me the conclusion you have no life whatsoever,"
I rolled my eyes.
"I gotta say," She continued. "parking in the same spot in the middle of the night IS kind of sketchy. I'm surprised no one's filed a complain yet."
"That's not problem though. How would you explain the knife? What if the guy really is . . . "
Jane snorts. "A murderer? Come on Daria! This is boring Lawndale. Maybe the guy is just a wannabe badass, who likes to carve hearts into trees with his & his girlfriend's initals on it. If something like 'Dude's a serial killer' was spread around, I think it might be the highlight of the century in the local newspapers. Besides," She flicks my forehead.
"Ow."
"I think you've been watching WAY too much Sick-Sad-World, missy. You should probably catch up on your Z's. You look pretty awful." A pause. Then, "Well more than usual."
Great. I was expecting Jane to be the last person to tell me that, but nevertheless I did have to agree with her. I felt myself nodding off the last couple of sentences.
I sigh. "Are we still up for pizza later?"
"Count on it." She lifts a finger at me. "Unless of course you intend to sleep until 2 in afternoon."
APRIL
SUNDAY MORNING 7 AM
Just when I thought the day was going to greet me with a wonderful ray of sunshine . . . it doesn't.
The moment I stepped out of the Lane's residence, winds had started to pick up, along with a drizzle. It was the kind of light rain that warns you there's going be an awful downpour later. Jane had offered me an umbrella, but my family's place was only three blocks away from hers. I thought it would be best if I just sped walked the entire way. Or possibly jog half of it & then full blown sprint the rest of it. I had the brilliant idea of taking the weird knife with me. It was tucked inside my jacket's breast pocket. Hoping it wouldn't fall out, or poke a hole through it, I had to keep patting it in place. I kept telling myself I didn't steal it, & I was sure as hell wasn't going to keep it. I was going to return it.
I get to walking. Taking Jane's & my conversation all in. She made a point. Lawndale was a pretty miserable boring place. With its boring suburban ranch houses, boring cracked sidewalks, & boring vague mountain scenery in the distance. There's no possible way that anything interesting would happen here. No reason at all to be paranoid anymore. Right? I was just sleep deprived. I then get to thinking about my parents. Wondering if they had awoken yet. How would I explain my absence this morning? I doubt they were awake at this hour. Sunday was their only day off. They would always sleep in give or take. Knowing my mother though, an early bird, she'd start her babbling as early as eight in the morning, waking everyone up in the process. Whether it was on the phone or with my father. She talks. A lot.
I was half way through the third block when I pulled out of my thoughts.
I heard very loud profanity.
Looks like somebody just discovered the meaning of deliberate, mischievous, & malicious act of destroying property. I made the mistake of stopping. Almost pulling a smile at Jane's art piece on the car she vandalized & the guy's fit of hysteria. Only then to realize I had his knife. Maybe he was mad that it was missing. I then stupidly gawked at Mr. Leather & Ripped Jeans. Just two seconds too late in making the decision to return to Jane's place, my left boot stomped into an early dirty mud puddle beside the sidewalk I was walking on.
"Damn it." I mildly mumbled. Not because of the grief stricken rain soaked boot, but rather because I was pretty sure the guy with the vintage car had heard me. I tried my best not to cringe when he spoke.
I felt him glance in my direction. "Nice weather, huh?" He said.
I knew his type. Now that I've gotten a closer chance to study him. He had obvious chisled, broad, handsome features & a muscular built. Lightly toned in tan. Cropped dark blonde, light brown hair. Green eyes. Yeah. The whole D-bag package. Maybe he was a wannabe badass who carved his & his girlfriend's intials in a tree. He could've also swept another dimwitted girl right off her feet just by a single damn good alluring smile, & ditch the first right after. I instantly didn't like him.
When I met the guy's gaze I surprised myself by giving him a shrug. Even more so with a reply, "Excuse me?"
"Then again," He continued. "I like the rain. Too much sun hurts my eyes."
An uncomfortable feeling formed in the pit of my stomach when he started to approach me. I immediately made the plan to make a run for it, but before the thought of making a few steps even crossed my mind, the guy demanded that I, "Don't. Move."
My blood ran cold the moment I caught him drawing a gun from his lower back.
My hands involuntarily rose. "What the hell are you doing?" I exclaimed.
It took me a solid minute to realize the guy wasn't even pointing the gun at me, but rather the other hovering over my shoulder. I thought pretty boy was bad news. The second one was just as worse. He was a grotesque, giant of a neanderthal, with an awful blinding white grin. What the hell was going on? How did I not know someone was stalking me on my way home? Let alone someone who was clearly hard to miss! My mind just about bursted into a fit of hysteria when I was locked in a chokehold. I was lifted ten inches off the ground, forced to make an uncomfortable gargled sound to come out of me.
"You think you're so smart Dean Winchester!" His voice boomed over to the guy in front of me.
"Let her go! YOU SON OF A BITCH." Dean barked back.
"Not a chance!" A chortle. "Heard you were looking for your baby brother. Tell you what. You let me have this piece of sweet ass. I might just tell you where he is!"
It's only when I began to see black spots did a horrendous thought crossed my mind. I gathered up the nerve to fumble around in my breast pocket. I couldn't believe what I intended to do next.
I violently wrung both of my hands back & jabbed the bastard in the gut
WITH THE KNIFE . . . . .
NOTE: Oh! Look at that. MORE mish mosh.
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