Traces of Scars- chapter eight: Leave a message at the beep
Author's note: Well, I am back again after a LLLOOONNNGGG hiatus…but nonetheless I am finally back! This is the second last chapter…*tear*…thank you to ALL my reviewers, there are too many to name here, but an enormous THANK YOU! ***WARNING*** this chapter's language is a lot coarser than the previous chapters, and the subject matter is a little stronger…this chapter is rated PG-13, instead of the usual rating… (actually, it might be drifting into the 'R' section…) but I hope that you will still read and enjoy this chapter, and do not dismay! For all those who enjoy angst, yes, some interesting happenings will occur that you will most likely fall in love with…for those who are more interested in 'fluff' there will be a sweet ending…but hopefully still one that satisfies the angsty folk (as I am one of those people…)
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters…so sue me!
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I stormed down to the utility room in the basement of the apartment complex, looking for my last name on the status list of water. Found it: 'Water Status: disconnected.' Damn you, Norman.
My feet pounded on the stairs up to Norman's apartment, number three.
*Dingdongdingdongdingdongdingdongdingdong…* I leaned against the doorframe with my shoulder pressing against the doorbell. He opened the door wearing a cruddy white undershirt and plaid shorts.
"Ah, Mandella, somehow I knew it was you pressing against the doorbell."
"Norman, I have no water upstairs. You said I had a week." I was positively infuriated!
"No, no, no, I said you had a week until rent was due, I said nothing about utilites. Of course, I could probably work something out. But I'll need something in return."
"What do you want, Norman?"
"I think you already know," he said as he grabbed my sore wrist and pulled me into his apartment, holding me too firmly against his side of the front door.
"No, stop, you asshole!" I screamed. He hit me.
"You'd think your whore of a mother would teach you how to use something like this to your own advantage," he said as he began to undo the zipper on those hideous plaid shorts. I managed to get a good hold on his arm with my teeth. The metallic taste of foreign blood marred my tongue.
"Bitch!" he yelled and let go of me to nurse his arm. With the few seconds I had bought, I was able to escape from his hellhole. I ran up to my apartment faster than I had ever run in gym class (remember, I failed that class…) when I got inside I locked the door. It wasn't long before I heard Norman's grubby fist pounding on my door.
"I'm not finished with you! Don't make me get my set of keys to get in!" I pushed the loveseat up against the door and picked up the phone to dial 911. No dial tone. Damn, Norman would get in soon and there would be no way to stop him. I frantically looked for my cell phone to call someone, anyone. I was expecting to hear Norman breaking down the door anytime, but there was silence. Had he left, or was he sitting silently by my door like a spider, waiting for me, his prey to emerge and then he would pounce? Silence. I wasn't about to take any chances, so I went into the bathroom and locked myself in. After I felt reasonably 'safe', I began to look for the cell phone. In the midst of my search, I started to play back my answering machine messages. There were two messages.
'Message one. *BEEP* Mandella, this is Kat. Look, I don't know why you left suddenly on Saturday night, but I have the feeling that I did something to piss you odd, or else you were really upset about the whole Michael thing. But whatever, call me, or we should meet for lunch or something. I want to see you before I leave. I have something to tell you, but I can't say it here. Please talk to me. *Click*'
'Message two. *BEEP* M-Mandella? This is your aunt Lynn. I have some explaining to do. I would have liked to tell you all this in person, but this will have to do. Your mother's and my grow-op got busted and they took all of our weed. Your mother in rehab, since it was found in my house, and she will be there for at least 18 months. I will be in community service and therapy while I do my time. I realize that this will most likely come as a shock to you, but I had to do it this way. Sorry for being blunt. Don't try to contact your mother, she's in a bad state. But I will try to call you again if there is any change. *click*'
Wow. Ok, two VERY interesting messages, but luckily no action from the beast called Norman. But then I looked across the room, and there was a scribbled note shoved under the door.
'I know you're in there, bitch. Don't try to hide. I had a family emergency, so I am gone for a while, but when I get back, you had better steer clear or be ready to face to consequences for prancing your cute little skinny ass in my place. Consider yourself warned.'
God, what the hell was I supposed to do? I couldn't stay at home with no water for very long, all I had was the Brita pitcher full of water. I would have to use that waterless soap for cleaning. But I had to get out, because Norman would be coming back. Mum wasn't coming back any time soon either…who could I stay with? I couldn't stay with Mr. Stratford, he had too hectic of a lifestyle, and he never really liked me anyways. Michael would be away in Munich, and I didn't want to ask Cameron for any more help, besides, he was staying with his uncle, and I couldn't impose on him…I would have to turn to the last person left, and I was dreading asking to stay with him: Patrick.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, I found the cell phone and dialled.
"Hello, Patrick?"
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A.N….OOH! Can we sense a plot twist?? Review and let me know what you think!