I'm The Geek Who Slapped A Football Player.

31 - Leaves/Cats

I don't think I can type enough sorry's on here to encompass how incredibly sorry I am for this being so late...>.< please don't hate me! Actually go ahead and hate me, but just keep reading!!

Dedicated because your comment just made me beam like you wouldn't believe!!! Thank you so much, and thank all of you for reading!! My story wouldn't be this far without my spectacular readers! :'D

Chapter 31.

I'm so scared shitless right now, I couldn't poop even if I ate ten laxatives.

As I creep down the stairs toward what is most likely my death, my subconscious is screaming at me. No no no! Bad idea! BAD IDEA! This means death!! DEATH!!! DEATH!!!

But for whatever reason, I just keep on trucking down the stairs, heading towards the back door. Honestly, I know why. Its because she already knows that I'm here. She saw my face in the doorway, probably like ten minutes ago. Simon figured she didn't know it was my face (my, as in Clarisse Hornitt, the teeny little nerd who accidentally beat her in a hallway fight). But now, I'm sure that she knows its me.

Because why else would she be at the back door?

I've reached the bottom of the steps, and now pause beside the entryway into the kitchen. I hear nothing, but just know that she's there, waiting for me to open the door. Heart in my throat, I peer around the corner into the kitchen.

The kitchen looks perfectly normal right now. The refrigerator is littered with sticky notes, and the family picture we took when I was in third grade when we went to the zoo for a field trip is stuck on it with a few magnets. There's just a few bowls in the sink; the sponge is lying kitty-corner from the faucet like mom always sets it. The counters are clean, the drawers and cupboards all closed and looking warm with their light tan hue. The table is faintly gleaming from the soft afternoon sunlight that's coming in through the green plaid curtain over the little window at the top of the back door.

I take in all of this now, so I can remember it one last time before PugFace mauls me.

While I'm taking what I'm sure is my last semi-calm look at my ridiculously ordinary kitchen, I see something move and my eyes zoom to the window in the back door. Through the small, green plaid curtain I can see a large shadow moving. Impatiently.

My heart punches against my ribs. SHIT!

Oh god, there she is! Oh no no no no no... As I stare, terrified to the point of being frozen, another round of hard knocks on the door rattle through the room. Rap rap rap rap. I flinch with each one, imagining them as her punching me. Oh Sweet Little Baby Jesus, I'm gonna be sick...

I hear a muffled voice come through the door. "Hello?"

Oh God, Oh GOD. While my mind is rambling in absolute terror, for some reason my feet start to take me toward my imminent doom. While I shuffle forward, shaking, cursing mentally, I try to stay out of sight of the window, though there's little chance she could see me anyway. The curtain is inside, and with the sun shining on the glass outside, she'd more than likely just see herself.

Wonder why the glass hasn't broken yet... The snarky thought pops into my brain and I suppress a chuckle. Because I really don't want to start on a fit of hysterical, panicked laughter just yet. I stop right at the door and then immediately hop under the window, more behind the door than anything. My hand hovers over the handle.

Before I take the plunge I listen intently, trying to ignore the hammering of my panicked heart and the rush of my terrified blood through my veins. I can hear her muffled, impatient feet, moving irritably on the back cement step. And she's muttering. To herself more like, because I can't discern any words at all.