“We don’t have a lot of room,” I said to him as he helped me into his truck.
He stood in the opened door, looking at me.
“You got a couch?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said, and wished I didn’t, “But it isn’t very comfortable.”
“You sleep on it?”
“No.”
“Your Mom sleep on it?”
This wasn’t getting any better.
“No,” I answered.
“Then you have room.”
“Eddie…” I said to the slamming door.
Eddie swung in behind the wheel and my mind whirled, trying to find some excuse, any excuse, for Eddie not to come to my house, spend the night on the couch, protecting me from men with knives.
I couldn’t find one.
He started the truck and off we went… to my doom.
Chapter Six
It Was Time to Take Things in My Own Hands The alarm went off and I stared at it.
5:20 am.
I hated my life.
I hit snooze.
My alarm went again.
5:27 am.
I really hated my life.
I hit snooze again.
My alarm went again.
5:34 am.
Seriously, my life sucked.
I turned off the alarm, rol ed out of bed and, stil half asleep, shuffled out the door, through the living room and into the kitchen. I opened the coffee filter to make sure Mom had set it up last night with coffee. She did, so I flipped the switch. I shuffled back through the living room and down the short hal , yawning and pul ing my hair away from my face with one of my hands.
I knocked on Mom’s bedroom door and when I heard her cal , I opened it and leaned against the doorjamb. I didn’t have the energy to hold my body upright.
“Mornin’, Mama,” I said across the room.
“Mornin’, dol face,” Mom replied sleepily.