Writing For G.O.T

Undying--Murder by Numbers addition

“Mairin! Hurry up! Are you fooling around to avoid me? You want me wait until death knocks at my door. “

His voice had an urgency to it. Yet, here it was again. The referral to death? Is she dead yet? flashed in front of her eyes, with the same brilliance of Tim’s cell phone screen. As if a vast power squeezed her airways, that image made her throat constrict. She dropped the broom and her hands fluttered around her neck.

“What happened?” Tim came running. “Are you all right?”

“Nothing,” she answered, her voice coming out in a croak. “I dropped the broom.”

“I thought you fell or something. You know, those stairs. They can be dangerous.”

He is planning for it. He’ll probably push me. That’s why he thought I fell. Panicked, her heart began beating fast. Terror was obstructing her reason. She struggled to regain control. What? All this because of a suspicion? She needed to get a hold of herself. But then, wasn’t she the one with the sixth sense? When she was a child, everyone asked her about the future and her success level in predictions was very high. And now, something inside her was hitting her alarm buttons. Why?

He was now walking toward her, with his strange, bandy-legged, rolling gait. She opened her mouth to scream but no voice came out of her. No, he mustn’t touch me! Tim tilted his head as if examining her.

“Is everything O.K.?”

She wiped her damp palms on her jeans and wearily, she said, ”Oh, Jeez, I just don’t know. I just don’t know how to explain this to you…”

He cut her mumbling quickly. “Listen, I didn’t mean to pressure you. I know this can’t be easy for you. I mean getting used to me…”

She saw pity in his eyes and immediately looked away. Clearly, this awareness and fake objectivity had to be surprising. What had made Tim deviate from his usual pattern of seduction? Suddenly she remembered something. Last night in the kitchen…the way he was holding the bread knife. He had dropped it when his phone vibrated and rang at the same time. Who is it? She had asked. My brother, he had said. He had to be lying. He didn’t have a brother. That is what he had told her. He had told her he was an only child and his parents were dead.

Mairin snapped to attention. How could she have missed that invention?

“Maybe there’s a simple explanation,” Tim said.” It must be your work situation. I am just going to shrug and forget it…for now. I think I’ll take a walk. You’ll probably be all right when I get back.”

Mairin hid behind the window and watched him take off, traipsing casually on the property. When he abruptly turned and looked at the house, she glued herself flat against the wall. Assured, he walked toward his Hyundai. To keep up with him, Mairin slid near the next window and stood without any motion. He opened the trunk of the car. He pulled a rifle out of it, examined it, and placed it back. Then he picked another small box from under the what looked like a pile of blankets.

Mairin squinted to see better. What Tim had in his hand an object, and it looked like a pistol. No, it was definitely a pistol. Now, who would drive around with guns in their trunk?

Instinct told her what she just witnessed in pure sight had a great deal of importance, and she decided to snoop around, to pry deeply into Tim’s life. She’d do it. She’d do it the first chance she’d get.

Tim’s phone buzzed suddenly. He had left it on the table, yet again. She looked at it without picking it up. The text said, ‘Not yet? You can say it was an intruder.’

The door clicked. Mairin rushed away into the kitchen, irritation and fear prickling up her scalp.

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662 words
tagging Mandy of Winterfell