"Do you want some spaghetti?" Mary asked.
"No. Want icee!" Jeremiah demanded.
"You have to eat food first. How about a pork chop?"
"Noooooo!"
Mary sighed in frustration. "Some soup?"
"Icee."
"Chicken and cheese casserole?"
"ICEE!!"
"Don't yell at me."
He crossed his arms over his chest and glared.
"Fine. You're going to eat chicken and cheese casserole with me, and I'll watch Bambi with you."
And with that Mary stormed into the kitchen to make the food. Jeremiah still sat on the couch with his arms folded over his chest, following her with a glare.
Mary sighed, loathing that she wasn't two years older and able to drive. It was nine before she got any food into Jeremiah, and ten before she was able to herd him and the dog upstairs to bed. After getting them settled, she sat down outside the door with one of her aunt's smutty romance novels and listened to them play quietly, winding down for bed.
When she was satisfied they were asleep, she put the book back where she'd found it, wrinkling her nose at the cover art of a shirtless man and scantily-clad woman. 'Ew. Het smut. We need us some good man on man lovin. Too bad I'm stuck here with no internet.' She thought to herself as she headed downstairs.
After cleaning the living room, she went on to the kitchen, emptying the dishwasher and loading it. It was about eleven when she began rummaging the pantry, settling on oriental cup-a-soup. She added water and stuck it in the microwave, setting the time and turning. As she headed back toward the living room she saw something outside the glass doors.
Already in the living room, she paused. 'Did I just see a man with a longbow in my aunt's garden?' She asked herself. Slightly amused, but quite afraid, she crept into the kitchen and looked out at the darkened garden. Nothing. Nothing at all. Just bushes and flowers. Mary sighed in relief and locked the kitchen door. Her aunt had keys. She turned, and froze.
There were five longhaired blonde men in her aunt's kitchen. All tall, all archers, but for one with a sword. Her eyes widened. Only two had bows pointed at her, the other two slipped off toward the other part of the house. The one with the sword stepped toward her, and she reached behind her, finding only Jeremiah's two-foot long baseball bat. She gripped it one handed and swung, connecting with him right in the shoulder. He jumped back. "Get the fuck out of my house!" she yelled and swung again. The three of them escaped out the front door, the other two joining them as they left.
Her heart pounding, Mary walked slowly to the front door. She reached for the knob and pulled it closed. Only when it was closed did she move swiftly, locking it fast, both the deadbolt and handle. If the door had had a crossbar, she'd have bolted that too.
Standing in the quiet, the microwave beeped, jerking her back to reality. She took the hot food out of the microwave and poured it into a bowl. 'Was I dreaming?' She wondered. The bat still lay on the mat in front of the door where she'd dropped it to lock the deadbolt. "Maybe Jeremiah left it there.' She curled up on the couch with her bowl of soup. She watched TV for a while, the uneasiness already fading.