June 19, 2009

The Cabin

PULLED OUT OF MY ARCHIVES AND TINKERED WITH . . . MAYBE I'LL EVEN FINISH IT . . .

Her cabin sat back from the road about 300 yards. Unless you were looking, you'd never notice. Not that anyone would ever look. No one traveled this road unless they were coming to see her. Few people came to see her these days as she'd managed to alienate almost everyone who cared about her.

The morning started as any other. Sounds from the forest woke her at the crack of dawn, nature's "rooster crow." It was a beautiful, crisp, warm summer morning. Those early morning sounds of birds, insects, the rustling of the leaves, the echoing bark of a far off dog and the soft, muffled sounds of the creek below gave her a shot of energy in the morning that no cup of coffee could replicate. She always went for a brisk morning walk, regardless of the weather. It was during these morning walks that she mapped out her entire day.

Today she was unable to focus on the future of her day, instead she was dwelling in her past. Seven years ago today she left the bright lights of the city and a promising career as a federal prosecutor some said on a whim, she knew otherwise. It had taken months of careful consideration. She'd never be safe if she stayed in that high profile position, it had to be. She packed her entire apartment in three hours, dropped the key in the super's box and drove here, to her own private paradise.

A slight smile crept across her face when she recalled that on that same day, she gave the homeless man in the alley Tom's expensive Italian suits and shoes and shoved the rest of that cheating bastard's belongings down the garbage shoot on her way out the door, careful to dump the bacon grease from her breakfast, over the top of the pile. The smile disappeared quickly as it was replaced with the vivid and unrelenting memories of that night. He'd followed her here not her cheating ex but the parolee she feared more than any other. He taunted her always, even after she'd put him away for smuggling - young foreign girls, just one of his side crimes - he taunted her. She had a feeling he was there, and she should never have lead him here to the middle of no where - her safe house. He crashed through her front door, and threw her through that beautiful picture window facing the creek. He beat her badly with her own autographed Jeter baseball bat, burned her with a cigarette on her temple, and left her for dead. She remembers him whispering in her ear that if she were younger, he'd have had a job for her too her and those little girls from the Ukraine that he so easily smuggled into the country. She never should have come straight here. She thought she had planned enough time to get out of the city, she had no idea they'd let him out in the morning, instead of in the late afternoon as was the protocol.

She shuddered slightly, rubbed her right leg feeling the deep, jagged grooves left behind by the glass from the picture window, and was startled by the sudden vibration of her cell phone alerting her to a text message. She reached into the crease of her blouse created by the curve of her breasts - she always kept her cell phone there because of the tingle she got when it activated. As she read the text, a deep and beautiful smile formed on her lips as her laughter echoed through the woods, bouncing from tree to leaf, to rock and back to her.

There was a reason they called her Sunny even though her name was really Sonja. She had a smile that could rival a lighthouse beacon, or just as easily sink ships, and Justin imagined that she was smiling just then. The thought made him go weak in the knees, so much so that he had to hold onto the counter for balance. He always went weak in the knees around her, she just didn't know it no one knew it. He knew today would be hard for her. This day, this day for the last seven years was the only one in which that beautiful smile didn't occupy her face the entirety of her waking hours. But today, it would be harder still, as she'd be attending the parole hearing today. She'd have to go over that night and produce the letters he continued to write to her. She'd have to look him in the eye. He'd be there as moral support, and later to get her all worked up so that she'd smile that man-killing smile right at him.

With a rapidity that suggested she could in fact be a teenager in disguise, Sunny answered his text with "after the hearing . . . you and me baby! You won't know what hit ya!" He wished that she was serious. She almost half-way was. They traded texts like this on a daily basis. He was her "sexter". She adored him. She knew he was in love with her, but she was careful not to encourage him because she needed him desperately and romantic love got in the way. There was longing, in every touch, soft kiss or strong hug, but she needed to know that she could call him at any hour to chat, to lean on, to talk dirty to and to ask favors of. Romantic love got in the way.

She need spend only minutes in his company and a permanent smile was plastered to her face. He made her laugh like no one on earth could make her laugh. She delighted in making him laugh too, as his deep brown eyes sparkled as if someone had lit a fire in them. When they were together, laughing was painful peeing first was always recommended!

She'd not been in a relationship these past seven years. The scars were deeper then their physical appearance, and were poison for any real relationship. She knew, one day he'd be out, and she'd be on the run. She needed Justin, she just couldn't love him like he wanted her to love him, because on that day that he was out? She'd leave Justin, and everything she loved about this cabin in the woods behind for good. She hoped with a wild desperation that today, would not be the day he was allowed to go free.


Posted by Oddybobo at June 19, 2009 05:51 PM | TrackBack
Comments

I am intrigued. Send me more.

Posted by: Two Dogs at June 19, 2009 09:47 PM

Oh, yes!

More please.

; )

Posted by: Christina at June 20, 2009 07:00 AM

THEN WHAT HAPPENED?

Dangit. It's like reading the first book in a series and the second's not written yet. ;)

Posted by: Pam at June 20, 2009 07:47 AM

*sits back to wait for more*

Posted by: Mrs. Who at June 20, 2009 08:21 PM

Except that if an excon attacks a federal prosecutor they bury him up to his neck in the yard of the prison with a kick me sign propped against his nose.

Other than that, good story.

Posted by: Peter at June 22, 2009 02:26 AM

Actually, attempted murder of a federal prosecutor does not carry any additional penalties. Threatening to kill and hiring someone to kill a federal prosecutor only carries a penalty of 12-30 months. . . .so . . .

Posted by: oddybobo at June 22, 2009 08:47 AM

Another one of those 'You'll have to buy the book to see how it ends!' type of posts, eh?? *S*

Posted by: Michele at June 23, 2009 10:44 AM

Well written!

Posted by: JihadGene at June 24, 2009 01:47 PM
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