"I love this place!", I exclaim to Mark before he goes back outside to get things out of the truck. The design of the building and the furniture is simply perfect. This is a perfect vacation place, probably costing into the million-dollar range. Whomever Mark knows, he's loaded; and he's somebody I want to get to know.
I felt a little awkward when we first entered the home. Mark told me to leave Elizabeth in the car in case they weren't here. It seemed a little shady to me, making me feel as if we were trespassing. We reached the front steps, and Mark pushes the doorbell. After a few long minutes, he pushes it again. Mark begins to crinkle his brow, and stoops down to the doormat. He lifts it up and reveals a key. A key that fits the door. My panicked mind runs through the idea of breaking and entering. Or in this case, just entering. He unlocks it, and opens the door. "Are you sure this is okay?" I ask. "It will be fine," he reassures me. "Me and this guy are great friends."
I walk around the living room for a while, taking in the decorations and furnishings. Well painted scenery lines a hallway, and my curious mind makes me want to see what is in every room. I'll wait for Mark to give me the tour. He's outside, messing with the stuff from the truck to bring it inside. I sit down on the leather couch but stand back up when the front door opens again. Oh god, here it comes. It's Lizzy. She stares at me awkwardly for a while, then plops her stuff down on the floor and sits in the rocking chair across from me. She avoids conversation with me like always, and begins to look at the house.
Mark comes in a few moments later, and tells us where to put our stuff. "I just got off the phone with him," he told us. "He said we can stay the night here, and he should be here sometime in the morning. We'll be safe here. Nobody knows about this place but us."
Lizzy is offered a bedroom but she takes the couch. Not wanting to be far from her, I decide to sleep in one of the main floor bedrooms. I trust that we are safe. It's just something I do. Ever since she was born, I've worried about Lizzy. Maybe it's something that just happens when you become a father, I don't know. It hasn't gone away or lessened yet.
Trying to shut out all the distractions of the world today, I close my eyes and drift off into sleep for the second time in the past 24 hours. Déjà vu.
But then I'm woken by another crash, the sound of glass shattering. Really, déjà fucking vu.
I rush out of bed and slowly open the bedroom door. The entire house is silent. This can't be good. Mark said nobody knows this place exists, but was he lying? Is this even where his friend lives?
I quietly make my way down the narrow hallway towards the staircase. When I reach the stairs, someone is also heading that way, and they bump into me at the same time. The light catches her face. It's Lizzy.
"What the hell was that?" She looks at me, concerned. I peek down the stairs and see a shadow move past. "Get in the room," I motioned her towards my room. She walks down the hallway, gets in the room and quietly shuts the door. Where the fuck is Mark?
I begin my descent. I'm using my weight to my advantage, making sure I shift my weight just right so I don't make a sound. I finally reach the living room. The window is shattered, and the curtains beside it are blowing from the autumn wind. I start remembering the living room of the house, and I'm disturbed at the thought of dealing with this again. I look around the corner into the kitchen. I see nobody, so I begin to walk down the hallway to where Mark was sleeping. Halfway through the hallway, I feel cold metal on my back.
"Don't move a muscle," a gruff voice says. "Who the hell are you?", he asks, yelling at me. I feel two barrels on my back. Mark's door to his room is open. Where the fuck is he? I begin to slowly turn around.
"Don't shoot," I tell the man. "I'm just turning around to face you." I turn around and am greeted by a man with a shotgun pointed towards my chest now. He's slightly taller than I am, but definitely more heavyset. He repeats himself. "Now I'm gonna ask again, who the hell are ya?"
I tell him, "My friend Mark brought us here. He says he knows you. He told you we were coming. He called you a couple hours ago actually." The man slightly lowers his gun, but still seems concerned. "I never got a call," he tells me. "But I know Mark. That dumbass. How did you guys get here?"
"We came in my truck. Mark came along with us." He laughs at me. "Typical Mark," he says, and smiles at me. "You won't be leaving anytime soon."
What? "What do you mean?" I ask him. He points to the window, and I go to look out. The truck is gone. Damn it. The man chuckles, and I turn back around. He sticks his hand out and says, "Sorry about your truck, Mark's kind of an dick. After all, he locked me out of my own place without my invitation to even be here." The man sticks his hand out in front of us. "I'm Steven Allan."
I shake his hand, and I feel the tension in the room settle. Lizzy's voice breaks the awkward silence. "Who's he?", she asks, and I turn around to see her at the bottom of the stairs. She has her arms crossed over her chest, and I can tell she's feeling very defensive. I walk over to her, and reassure her. "It's fine, he knows Mark. He's gonna help us, I think. I hope." Hesitant to tell her the truth, I decide to not keep anything from her. "Mark, he um... he left with our truck, Lizzy." Lizzy's eyes go wide when she hears this, and she begins to yell. "WHAT?" she makes her way over to the window, throws her arms into the air, and goes back up the stairs. She shuts the door to the room.
For a moment, I almost forget Steven is down there with me. I jump when he asks, "Well, should I start making breakfast?"