Kat hoisted her bookbag over her shoulder and stepped halfheartedly off the bus as a heavy rain began to fall.
"Damn," she cursed, running to her house and digging out her housekey. Now she'd have to blowdry her hair before the concert in three hours.
She entered the house and threw her bag to the floor angrily, peeling off her drenched jacket and water-filled sneakers.
After clicking the "Play" button on her answering machine she began filling a coffeemug with hot water for some tea. Her friends teased that she was an old lady, but it was her only relaxer.
She felt irritated as she listened to twelve messages of silence. "Geez, if you're going to call, you could at least leave a message," Kat grumbled, heading upstairs.
She peeled off her wet clothing and stepped into a quick shower, the hot water soothing her. She tried not to take too long, though, as she had to still do an incredible amount of homework and she needed to go over her music for the recital.
Kat pulled on her concert clothes once she was done, figuring she might as well get ready now so she didn't lose track of time and end up haphazardly throwing on her blouse and skirt and buttoning the wrong buttons.
She pulled on her plain white blouse and long black skirt (dress code for concerts) and black heels, then pulled her hair into a tight bun. This was a good look for her wet hair, it made the dark brown color look nearly black. And professional. A look she strived for. She also dabbed a bit of makeup onto her pale skin and some light eyeshadow over her bright hazel eyes. Finally she brushed her teeth and splashed on some lipgloss. There.
Finally she put away her things and returned to her bedroom, pulling out her flute case and music. She needed to relax a bit before she did some work.
As she began playing a pretty piece called Passepied the power zapped out. She froze and quickly set down her flute in the dark. Although it was only five pm, the quickly darkening November sky and storm added up to almost no light at all. She snatched up the flashlight she always kept by her bed for emergencies like this and crept to the window.
"Damn old houses," she muttered as she saw the lights in the other houses on the street. She sighed and began to make her way downstairs when she heard a thud.
She froze, fear rising into her chest. She shook her head and told herself to calm down. Once again, she was acting like the child that she wasn't. It was an old house.
Where was that fuse box again? She'd never been alone during a blackout, her father had always clicked the electricity back on as her and her mother cowered in fear.
The basement, she realized suddenly. Basement.
She edged her way down the wall as she heard another noise. This time it was more distinct, like...footsteps.
Kat, grow up, the voice said again. But something overpowered that sense and she grabbed out at the first thing her hand could find. She brought her flashlight down to look at it. A...pen? Hm. Well, maybe it would work if she was desperate...she could always gouge out an attacker's eyes, or something.
KAT. There is no attacker.
Katie finally landed on the first floor and began tiptoeing into the kitchen. Suddenly the lights turned back on and all she saw before she attacked was a pair of crystalline blue eyes right in front of her face.
