After a restless night, drifting in and out of consciousness, the morning felt like an extension of the sombre events from the previous evening. I had already been forced out of bed twice – first to feed the cats, and then to let them outside. Reluctantly, I dragged myself from the warmth of my bed a third time, a silent vow on my lips that this would be the last interruption today.
The kitchen tiles felt cold and unwelcoming beneath my bare feet, a stark contrast to the comfort of my bed. As I held a glass under the faucet, the water began sputtering in thin, disparate jets before finally merging into a steady stream. My heart thumped loudly in my chest, each beat a reminder of the unresolved emotions and questions lingering from last night.
I hadn't seen or heard from Cody since he had left abruptly not long after our farewell speeches for Joel. His words from last night echoed in my mind, baffling me. They left an unpleasant dry, pasty taste in the back of my throat. Did he mean anything more than mere words of sympathy, fuelled by too many shots of whiskey? I've never seen him look so emotional, I mused, my thoughts swirling with confusion and a hint of concern.
Lost in thought, I was caught off guard when the water in the glass overflowed, jolting me back to reality. Hastily, I dropped the glass into the sink, the sound of it clattering against the metal a sharp contrast to the quiet of the morning.
After turning off the tap and gulping down the remaining water, I turned my gaze toward the kitchen window. There, I noticed Snowflake pacing back and forth in front of the sliding door that led to the decking, her meows a clear demand to be let back inside. The sight of her, so insistent and yet so mundane, was oddly comforting.
With a sigh, I moved towards the door to let Snowflake in, each step taking me further away from the thoughts of Cody and the unease that lingered from last night.
As I slid the door open, allowing Snowflake to make a hasty entry, I couldn't help but ask her, "Where's your sister?" It was a rhetorical question, of course; Snowflake couldn’t respond, but the concern in my voice was real. Snowflake seemed unbothered, heading straight for the kitchen, her usual routine.
"Chloe!" I called out, stepping barefoot onto the cold, crisp mid-afternoon air of the deck. A sense of urgency crept into my voice. "Come on, Chloe. It's cold out here." The cold breeze sent goosebumps racing up my arms.
"Chloe!" I called out again, my voice tinged with fear. My heart rate picked up, each beat echoing my mounting concern. Has something happened to my baby? I rarely left them outside unsupervised for more than a few minutes. Today, though, my mind was foggy, clouded by the events of the last few days. I had deviated from their safe routine, and it had been several hours since I had let both cats outside.
"Or has it been?" I questioned myself aloud, stepping back into the warmth of the living room. My hand instinctively went to my brow, kneading it as I tried to piece together the timeline. With my other hand, I shut the door, closing off the cold but not my worries.
I’m sure I let them both out… I thought, watching Snowflake circle the kitchen. She seemed entirely unconcerned about Chloe's absence, her focus solely on her own needs.
"I did let you both out, didn't I?" I asked, looking down at the expectant cat.
"Meow."
"You're really not much help, are you?" I sighed, a hint of affection laced with frustration in my voice.
"Meow."
"You can eat when we find your sister," I told her firmly, a decision made. I began to make my way across the living room, each step filled with determination, heading towards the hallway.
"Chloe, where..." My voice trailed off as I began another call for Chloe, only to be abruptly interrupted by the loud ringing and vibrating of my phone on the kitchen bench. Annoyed but curious, I hurried over to answer it.
"Hi, Luke," I said, trying to sound more composed than I felt.
"You too, hey?" Luke’s voice came through the line.
"Huh?" I was momentarily confused, my thoughts still with Chloe.
"Oh. You sound tired," Luke clarified.
"Um. Yeah. It's been a big day," I replied, my mind struggling to think of anything more than my missing Chloe.
"Hmph," Luke exhaled loudly, his breath staticky in my ear, causing me to pull the phone slightly away. "Tell me about it."
"Mm," I replied, simply.
"So, um, actually...I was wondering if I could get Cody's number from you? I really need to talk to him about..." Luke's request trailed off.
My eyes narrowed as I stared blankly at the fridge while Luke talked. I found myself absently walking toward it, my free hand reaching out to touch its stainless-steel surface. There was an odd buzzing sensation in my fingertips, and something about the fridge seemed different, out of place, but I couldn't quite figure out what it was.
"Gladys, you there?" Luke's voice pulled me back to the call.
"Uh, yeah, sorry Luke," I said, shaking my head to clear my thoughts. "I don't actually have his number."
"But haven't you two been seeing each other for a few months now?" Luke sounded surprised.
"Well, yeah, sort of. But he hasn't actually given me his number," I insisted, a touch of frustration in my voice.
"Address then?" Luke asked, still probing.
"No, nothing."
"No worries. Thanks, Gladys," said Luke, ending the call abruptly before I could say goodbye.
Almost immediately after the call ended, my attention was drawn back to the fridge. Its electric hum seemed louder and more pronounced than usual, adding to the growing sense of unease that had settled over me.
"Shit," I muttered under my breath, my mind suddenly jolted by the realisation that Cody did indeed have a phone and had given me his number. My fingers quickly swiped my phone to life, searching for Luke's number in my contacts. But as I found it, a wave of hesitation washed over me. Should I really give him Cody's number? What if I was inadvertently putting Cody in danger by handing it out?
Just then, an overpowering and distinct smell seemed to waft across my mind – fresh blood and rotting flesh. It was so vivid, so startlingly real, that the phone almost slipped from my hand. Instinctively, I grabbed hold of the fridge to brace myself, fighting the urge to gag at the gruesome sensory memory that had invaded my thoughts.
As my stomach slowly settled, something on the fridge caught my attention – a red smudge on its side, just above where my hand was still gripping firmly. I leaned in closer, my heart starting to pound like a warning drum, my stomach churning audibly again. The smudge was unmistakably a bloody fingerprint. Fear surged through me as I examined it, my mind racing with possibilities and dangers.
No longer certain of anything, least of all trusting Luke with Cody's number, my eyes widened in fear. We are all in danger now! every swirl of the bloody fingerprint on the side of the fridge screamed at me.
