I jump and let out a startled yelp. I had been so caught up in the envelope, I forgot about Asher’s dad. “Crap, you scared me,” I say, looking up at Mr. Mayson.
He chuckles. “I got that when you screamed.”
“I didn’t scream,” I say in my own defense. I’ve become close with all of Asher’s family. His parents have taken me in as one of their own. And his brothers treat me like I am the little sister they missed out on having. Now they’re making up for lost time by picking on me and torturing me on a regular basis. Sometimes Asher gets annoyed with them, but most of the time, he joins in on the fun of pissing me off.
Mr. Mayson smiles like he thinks I’m being funny, then looks down at the envelope. The smile leaves his face quickly and his eyes come back to me. “I hope you made sure to look out the peep hole before you came outside.” His tone is serious.
“I made sure,” I mumble, hoping this is nothing serious. I don’t want to start living my life looking over my shoulder.
“Let’s go in and you can show me what you got and tell me about the person who dropped them off.”
“Are you going to open that?” I ask, pointing at the card.
“When we get inside.”
We walk into the house and I close and lock the door behind us as we turn to go into the kitchen. Mr. Mayson is standing at the kitchen island in front of the flowers. I notice that he now has on a pair of gloves. His head is bent and he is looking at the open card.
“What does it say?” I ask.
He holds it up for me to see. On the front of the card is a picture of Manhattan at night. When he opens it, I stumble back and my stomach drops. I am looking at the words written in bright red ink.
Coming events cast their shadows before
I had a vision in the summer light—
Sorrow was in it, and my inward sight
Ached with sad images. The touch of tears
Gushed down my cheeks the figured woes of years
Casting their shadows across sunny hours.
Oh, there was nothing sorrowful in flowers.
“Holy crap.” I cover my mouth and run to the hall bathroom to throw up the piece of toast I had for breakfast and the coffee that I drank. I feel a cool rag on my neck and a hand rubbing my back.
“Are you okay?” he asks and I can hear the anger in his voice.
“Yeah,” I say, flushing the toilet. I take the rag off my neck and wipe my mouth with it. I look up into his eyes and can tell he is pissed off. I just hope he isn’t mad at me for bringing this kind of trouble to his son’s front door. “I'm so sorry,” I say, putting my face into my hands. I can’t figure out why this is happening to me. I feel him pull me in for a hug.
“We will figure it out. We won’t let anything happen to you.”
“I don’t understand why someone’s doing this to me,” I cry into his shirt. I hate it more that Asher is dealing with this too. If something happened to him because of me, I don’t know what I would do. “Can you give me a minute?” I ask, pulling out of his hug and wiping my eyes.
“Sure, darling.”
I shut the bathroom door, turn around to the vanity, and look at myself. My eyes are blood shot. I tie my hair up quickly and turn on the cold water then start splashing my face. I need to brush my teeth, but I'm not ready to leave the safety of these four walls. I know that once I walk out that door, I'm going to be asked more questions that I don’t have the answers to. I rinse my mouth a few times jump up on the counter and try to think of anyone who would do this to me. I can’t think of anyone that I’ve wronged. There isn’t anyone that dislikes me enough to try to kill me or stalk me to another state and harass me. Then I start to wonder where they have been during the last few months. Nothing has happened since a week before Thanksgiving. Not that I missed them, but why did they go away, and why are they back now?
“November!” Asher bellows from the front door. I hop off the counter and start to open the bathroom door when it is shoved open and hits me in the head.
“Shit!” I cry and my hands go to my forehead where the door just slammed into me.
“Jesus Christ! Baby, are you okay?” I don’t know if I am alright. I know my head hurts a lot. Who the heck opens a door with that much force? “Let me see,” he says, pulling my hands away from my face. “Fuck!” he shouts and I know from the look on his face that I don’t want to see the damage. I now have a headache on top of all the other crap.
“I'm sorry, baby. I'm so fucking sorry.” He looks really upset. Jeez, it hurt, but it wasn’t bleeding. How bad could it be? I turn to the mirror and want to laugh. I have a bright red and purple mark in the center of my forehead. I look like Harry Potter. I start to giggle and Asher’s eyes narrow. “This shit’s not funny. I could have really hurt you.”