Diary Entry of a Nervous Person

In three minutes, Kayla would walk in the door. She would look down, brush the hair our of her face and look around her. The light in the hallway would be out, so she's flick it on.

"Sara?"

Her voice would echo nervously over the hardwood. I'd emerge from the kitchen, wearing the nightgown she bought for my birthday and look her up and down.

"You said you'd be home by seven at the latest."

Two minutes from now would be nine twenty three, so that's what time it would be. I'd look at the analogue in the kitchen. She would look at the digital on her wrist.

But she doesn't wear the digital watch anymore because she broke the strap last week and hasn't got a new one. She' probably just late getting off work.

In four hours Kayla would turn the key as quietly as possible. Her makeup would be a mess, like someone else's hands... or lips... had been playing there. Her hair would be tied back and she wouldn't flick on the hallway light as she snuck to the bathroom where I would be sitting on the edge of the tub.

"Sara!"

Kayla's hands would fly to her face, except Kayla loves me and hates the idea of cheating and this is stupid. Also her exclaiming my name is stupid. Kayla is so articulate.

In six hours I will be dead tired, but still up because she still hasn't walked through the door. She isn't responding to texts or phonecalls, because someone took her on the way to the bus stop. They wrap her up in thin string. It's weak but there is a lot of it and it cuts into her flesh and wraps around her head letting her hair suffocate her. She can't scream because the tennis ball they stuff in her mouth stretches her jaw almost to the point of breaking. This is too awful for me to keep thinking about. The imaginary tear of fabric makes me shudder.

I walk into the hall and open the door. No one is outside, but the downstairs neighbour's cat looks up from her hunt. Someone's shoes tap up the sidewalk and I hope they're hers.