Chapter 2
By the time Courtney arrived home, the sky was nearly dark and her mood was positively foul. Her conversations with Lindsay and Noah had already put her in a bad state, and after having her hair ruined by the unexpected torrent of rain and detouring around numerous accidents on the drive back, she was just about ready to murder somebody.
"Stupid people don't know how to drive, crashing all because of the stupid rain... Goddamn idiots," she muttered as she slammed her car door shut. Her scowl was as intense as ever. "How the hell they got their license in the first place is beyond me." Not caring to avoid the puddles covering almost every square yard of the sidewalk, Courtney let out a curse when the filthy water started soaking through her shoes and seeping between her toes.
The lights in the house were off and the driveway was empty, but she had been expecting as much. Her parents were probably at work as they always were, being some of the most prestigious lawyers in all of Ontario. She hardly ever got to see them, but it didn't bother her much. They'd always pushed her, ever since she was a child, to be as independent as possible. When Courtney was young she'd had a nanny to feed her and shop for her and take her places like school and violin practice, but as soon as she grew old enough her parents had bought her a car and driving lessons so that she could do such things herself. She'd had a credit card since she was twelve, using it to pay for things like food and clothes and insurance. The only thing Courtney really needed her parents for was their signatures on school permission slips and syllabuses, and even then she usually went to the old woman next door instead. Sure, she wasn't technically a "legal guardian", but the school didn't know that.
Not that it should have mattered; Mrs. Grinwald cared about Courtney far more than her parents did.
Hunching over to shield her face from the rain, the brunette locked her car and hurried up the stone path to her front door. She was sure the little makeup she had on must have run horribly by now, and she didn't need it getting any worse. She retrieved her key from her front pocket, fumbled with the lock for a moment, then shoved open the door with her shoulder. Large droplets of water dripped from her the ends of her hair onto the white marble inside. Carelessly, she let her backpack slide off her shoulder to the floor. It was soaked through and her books were probably wet, but for the time being Courtney couldn't care less. All she was focused on was getting out of her drenched clothes and into a nice, hot shower. She took off her soiled shoes and kicked the door shut behind her with little thought before she practically sprinted up the polished hardwood stairs to the second floor. It was a wonder she didn't slip.
"Oh, thank God." Courtney's face softened with relief as she reached the bathroom. She quickly began peeling off her wet garments and readied a robe on the bathroom counter. The water from the shower was hot and steaming when she stepped underneath it, soothing to her stiff muscles. For several minutes, she just stood there with closed eyes and let the water run over and warm her frigid skin. The lyrics of some arbitrary song fell from her lips as she basked fully in the feeling.
Eventually, with much reluctance, Courtney opened her eyes. She could feel the pads of her fingers starting to wrinkle, and as much as she didn't want to, she decided it best to speed up the rest of her shower before she turned into a complete prune. Opening the glass cabinet and reaching for the shampoo bottle, she squirted some of the soapy fluid into her open palm and then vigorously rubbed it into her scalp. In her mind, she imagined she was rubbing Noah from the face of the Earth.
When she was finished cleaning up, Courtney shut off the water and took a tentative step back into the larger part of the bathroom. Cold air rushed at her naked form, and she shivered, fumbling to wrap herself in the fluffy bathrobe she'd laid out earlier. It was a little small, perhaps her mother's, but she was nonetheless grateful for the welcome warmth it brought.
A sudden crash from somewhere downstairs caused Courtney to tense, dark eyes wide, spine completely rigid.
There shouldn't have been anyone home apart from her, not for at least another couple of hours when her parents finished work. It wasn't as if she had siblings or pets, and the maids only came once a week for a routine cleanup. Simultaneously worried for her safety and enraged that someone would dare trespass on her property, the young woman found herself at a loss for what to do. Should she stay upstairs and hide? Or should she go downstairs and confront the unknown culprit?
It took only a moment to decide.
"Oh, screw it!" A look of utter indignance had replaced the relaxed smile of thirty seconds ago. "I don't know who this person thinks they are, but they have chosen the wrong girl to mess with!" Throwing modesty to the wind, Courtney pulled her tiny bathrobe tighter around her otherwise bare frame and marched out of the bathroom.
Walking down the stairs, the girl called out into the silence. "Who's there?" She received no response. Upon a quick survey of the room, however, she noticed that the front door was ajar. She gave a low groan. In her haste to get to the shower, she must not have closed the door properly. That meant it was her fault that this intruder had gotten inside. She felt like hitting her head against the wall for being so foolish. Luckily for her, her frustration with herself only fueled her anger at the trespasser for being there in the first place. She began shouting with heightened intensity.
"I know you're in here somewhere!" A noise suddenly came from behind her. Courtney whipped around, locking her fingers against the sides of her waist. She squinted hard at the dark hallway. "Hey! Come out here and show yourself, so I can beat your ass!"
Out of the corner of her eye, Courtney caught a glimpse of movement. Again she turned, even faster than before. But once more, the space appeared empty.
Apprehension crept up on her as she started to fully appreciate the precarious nature of her situation.
Here she was, all alone in her massive house, while a possibly dangerous intruder ran circles around her in the shadows. She had absolutely no weapon other than her bare fists and feet, which would be of little use if he decided to pull a knife on her, or worse, a gun. It seemed like one of those godawful horror movies some of the kids at her school liked to watch, with the stereotypical mouse-brained teenage girl who runs around screaming until ultimately winding up dead.
Of course, Courtney did not hold herself on the same level as those girls, but still! This was a potentially life-threatening situation, and what was she doing? Taunting the very person who might actually be trying to kill her! Not exactly her brightest idea. And to top it all off, she was practically naked! If nothing else, she was asking to be raped. But, like usual, her stubborn pride wouldn't let her back down.
"Look, whoever you are," she tried again, walking slowly forward across the marble and fighting to keep her voice steady, "I've had a terrible day today, and just so you know, I am not afraid to take it out on you. All I wanted was to take a shower and have a nice, peaceful evening, but apparently that was just too much to ask for, wasn't it?"
She was met with silence. Then, a sound not unlike a chuckle materialized out of the darkness, and Courtney gasped as she felt something brush against her arm. She stood, paralyzed, for a moment before gathering her bearings just in time to witness a dark shape slip out through the gap of the open door. She followed as fast as she could, but by the time she reached the threshold they were already gone.
"He was there for like, a whole minute just staring at you, but after I told you to look, he disappeared!"
Courtney shook her head. No, no, this had nothing to do with whatever Lindsay thought she had seen earlier. The guy must have just been a really fast runner or something. He's a criminal; his livelihood depends on it. No one could just disappear.
Retreating back inside (and making sure to lock the door this time), Courtney decided that the first thing she should do was check for any missing items. Her first guess was that the man—assuming it was a man—was a thief, looking for easy cash to get his hands on. Her house being as luxurious as it was, she didn't think it too far-fetched. She just hoped that if he had taken anything, it was some of the more trivial, replaceable objects like cushions or vases; her mother would go ballistic if she came home to find any of her prized jewelry collection gone.
However, as she walked down the house's corridors and peeked inside rooms at random, Courtney was struck by the strange awareness that absolutely nothing appeared out of order. If this had been a thief like she thought it had, the place should have been utterly ransacked, furniture toppled over and broken and ornaments strewn across the ground. But there was nothing. Even the living room, where she knew for a fact he had been, was immaculate save for a few watery footprints here and there. Her bag and shoes hadn't moved from their place by the door, right where she had left them. Even her (still dead) phone was present. The whole thing was puzzling, to say the least.
After checking and rechecking the building about four times over and finding no disturbances, Courtney resignedly plopped down onto a futon in the living room. Her head fell back against the white cushion. The guy must not have wanted to kill her—she'd be dead by now if that were the case—and, apparently, he hadn't come to steal from her either. Which brought her to the million-dollar question:
What was he there for?
Was it a prank? Was it someone from school trying to scare her? Humiliate her? If it was, she had to admit it worked. But it made her angry, too. She worked her butt off for those ingrates, organizing fundraisers for the new library, thinking up themes and decor for each end-of-quarter dance, and this was how they repaid her? A grimace appeared on her face. Well, there was no way she would be so considerate after this little fiasco. They would be lucky if their upcoming prom even had music, let alone the live band she had originally been planning on.
Courtney purposefully did not contemplate the other, more unsettling explanation as to the intruder's identity.
Stomach letting out a loud rumble, Courtney was finally forced to take notice of just how hungry she was. It wasn't surprising, considering she'd had to skip lunch for a class council meeting and hadn't had another chance to eat since breakfast. The antique clock on her left told her it was almost seven now.
The teenager stood, waited a few seconds for the inevitable dizziness to pass, and walked over to the kitchen. She was disappointed to find nothing more than a loaf of bread and some leftover lasagna in the fridge, but she quickly shrugged it off. She was hungry enough not to care. Throwing the plate of lasagna in the microwave and setting it to go for a couple of minutes, Courtney leaned back against the counter to wait. Her eyes roamed around the room, searching futilely for something to make the time go faster.
It was only then that she noticed it. A small slip of paper, about the size of an index card and covered in nearly illegible writing, standing out in great contrast from the black stone of the countertop; Courtney wasn't quite sure how she had missed it. Curious, she reached over and plucked it from the smooth surface.
She didn't recognize the handwriting. The messy scrawl was far removed from the neat, refined cursive of her mother and bold lettering of her father. The letters were a bit difficult to decipher, but with moderate effort, the brunette decoded enough to get the gist of their message:
Hey Princess,
You probably don't know who I am. But I don't mind. I know exactly who you are.
I just wanted to ask, do you always sing in the shower? You have a beautiful voice. I'd love to hear it again sometime.
Courtney's brow creased with unease. There was no signature, so she flipped it over to check the back. What she found made that day's events even more disturbing.
By the way, I found your argument this afternoon to be rather intriguing. I'm sorry I interrupted it.
Until next time.
The paper slipped from her fingers.
For once in her life, Lindsay had been right.
Courtney was being stalked.
A/N: (Edit) 12/18/20
Thanks for reading and don't forget to review!
- Scraps
