“The body?”
“Oh.”
I’d somehow almost forgotten about Trevor’s charred remains.
“Okay.”
"I'll
get your... toiletries while I'm out."
When
I was alone, I finally had time and space to think. I searched the
house. Nothing weird anywhere. There were a few locked doors,
including what I thought was probably Shannon’s bedroom on the
second floor. There was no land line phone anywhere in the house, and
no computer outside the now-locked office.
The
white cat followed me from room to room yowling in an irritated
fashion like she was going to tell on me for checking things out. But
everything looked normal .
So normal, in fact, that for a moment I could pretend that Shannon
was just a regular nice guy and that all the nasty business with
Trevor had never happened.
But it had happened. Intellectually I knew I should be searching for a way to
escape, but I couldn't bring myself to believe that a man who wanted
me dead would have just spent so much money buying me new clothes.
Chapter Five
Eventually, we settled into something resembling a routine. I finally
stopped fearing that he’d throw me down and take my imagined
virtue, or that he’d kill or otherwise harm me. Shannon treated me
like I was his roommate—his deadbeat mooch of a roommate who didn’t
pay rent. I actually started to feel guilty about it. I was wearing
clothes he’d bought, using his water and electricity, eating his
food, invading his space. And so far he hadn’t asked for anything
in return.
But still I felt like it was coming. I expected any day now to see
some version of an invoice slipped under my door with a demand for
immediate payment.
This invasion was clearly uncomfortable for him—like my existence
interrupted the flow of his space, like I’d thrown off the feng
shui or something. But he didn’t comment on it. He didn’t act
like he was going to get rid of me. The cat followed him everywhere,
shooting me dirty looks whenever she passed by. If anybody was
planning my demise, it was that freaky nameless cat.
So far, despite Shannon’s promise, I hadn’t left the house yet,
even though my hair had been short and black for two weeks now
instead of its previous long blonde. My eyes were now chocolate brown
instead of blue. Or they would be if I ever left the house and wore
the contacts. They mainly just sat in their case. A part of me
doubted I’d even remember to put them in if and when he ever let me
venture outside.
When I looked in the mirror, I felt like even more of a stranger to
myself, as if a new wave of amnesia would come along and drag me
under its empty dark water, erasing everything before I’d met
Shannon.
He left during the day sometimes. Not every day, but most days. And
it wasn’t a set schedule like he was going to the nine-to-five
grind. Sometimes he was gone when I woke. Sometimes I was sure he
left in the middle of the night. Sometimes he left around noon. There
was no set schedule, no rhyme or reason. I’d asked once or twice
where he went, and he would say, “to the gym”.
I think he probably did go to the gym sometimes. Sometimes he was
dressed for it. And there was a gym bag that often left with him.
Being as paranoid as he seemed to be about everything, it wouldn’t
surprise me if he constantly varied his routine, working out at
bizarre hours to throw whoever off this trail.
Why would a man need to be that paranoid if he wasn’t doing
something wrong or dangerous? But then, I don’t think I’d ever
believed Shannon was a nice guy with a normal job. He was dangerous
like a wild animal was dangerous. Whatever it was that had come along
and civilized humanity so we could function properly in groups, had
bypassed him. He was his own law.
One evening at dinner, Shannon dropped an orange manila envelope on
the table in front of me.
“What’s this?”
“It’s you.”
I stared at it. “What do you mean?” But I knew what he meant. I
was just stalling.
“Open it.” He slid a silver
“Oh.”
I’d somehow almost forgotten about Trevor’s charred remains.
“Okay.”
"I'll
get your... toiletries while I'm out."
When
I was alone, I finally had time and space to think. I searched the
house. Nothing weird anywhere. There were a few locked doors,
including what I thought was probably Shannon’s bedroom on the
second floor. There was no land line phone anywhere in the house, and
no computer outside the now-locked office.
The
white cat followed me from room to room yowling in an irritated
fashion like she was going to tell on me for checking things out. But
everything looked normal .
So normal, in fact, that for a moment I could pretend that Shannon
was just a regular nice guy and that all the nasty business with
Trevor had never happened.
But it had happened. Intellectually I knew I should be searching for a way to
escape, but I couldn't bring myself to believe that a man who wanted
me dead would have just spent so much money buying me new clothes.
Chapter Five
Eventually, we settled into something resembling a routine. I finally
stopped fearing that he’d throw me down and take my imagined
virtue, or that he’d kill or otherwise harm me. Shannon treated me
like I was his roommate—his deadbeat mooch of a roommate who didn’t
pay rent. I actually started to feel guilty about it. I was wearing
clothes he’d bought, using his water and electricity, eating his
food, invading his space. And so far he hadn’t asked for anything
in return.
But still I felt like it was coming. I expected any day now to see
some version of an invoice slipped under my door with a demand for
immediate payment.
This invasion was clearly uncomfortable for him—like my existence
interrupted the flow of his space, like I’d thrown off the feng
shui or something. But he didn’t comment on it. He didn’t act
like he was going to get rid of me. The cat followed him everywhere,
shooting me dirty looks whenever she passed by. If anybody was
planning my demise, it was that freaky nameless cat.
So far, despite Shannon’s promise, I hadn’t left the house yet,
even though my hair had been short and black for two weeks now
instead of its previous long blonde. My eyes were now chocolate brown
instead of blue. Or they would be if I ever left the house and wore
the contacts. They mainly just sat in their case. A part of me
doubted I’d even remember to put them in if and when he ever let me
venture outside.
When I looked in the mirror, I felt like even more of a stranger to
myself, as if a new wave of amnesia would come along and drag me
under its empty dark water, erasing everything before I’d met
Shannon.
He left during the day sometimes. Not every day, but most days. And
it wasn’t a set schedule like he was going to the nine-to-five
grind. Sometimes he was gone when I woke. Sometimes I was sure he
left in the middle of the night. Sometimes he left around noon. There
was no set schedule, no rhyme or reason. I’d asked once or twice
where he went, and he would say, “to the gym”.
I think he probably did go to the gym sometimes. Sometimes he was
dressed for it. And there was a gym bag that often left with him.
Being as paranoid as he seemed to be about everything, it wouldn’t
surprise me if he constantly varied his routine, working out at
bizarre hours to throw whoever off this trail.
Why would a man need to be that paranoid if he wasn’t doing
something wrong or dangerous? But then, I don’t think I’d ever
believed Shannon was a nice guy with a normal job. He was dangerous
like a wild animal was dangerous. Whatever it was that had come along
and civilized humanity so we could function properly in groups, had
bypassed him. He was his own law.
One evening at dinner, Shannon dropped an orange manila envelope on
the table in front of me.
“What’s this?”
“It’s you.”
I stared at it. “What do you mean?” But I knew what he meant. I
was just stalling.
“Open it.” He slid a silver
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