THE INTRUDER

I got out of my sedan and walked up the stairs of the veranda. I looked under the carpet in the usual place where the keys of the house are, only to find them missing; the door was also left ajar. There had to be something wrong. Even if it was Mary who unlocked the door with the keys, why would she leave it open?

I crept inside, cautiously, as quietly as I could. The living room was a mess- the books that used to be on the rack were now lying on the floor, the pillows of the couch were torn with all of their innards flying across the room and even the drawer with all my documents out and the papers flying around. Documents. Whoever had intruded this place must be wanting the papers with the evidence for Jubilee Roosevelt’s murder.

I looked around the room for a sign of the intruder. Everything was still, except for the strings hanging on the lampshade that were still swinging. The intruder was still in the house.

I pulled the Swiss knife out of my pocket and  slowly walked towards my room. I had to get the papers before they get in the hands of whoever is in the house.

As I walked up the stairs, I could hear footsteps. Then there was shuffling of papers, and again footsteps.

I began crawling towards the door when suddenly the shuffling and the footsteps stopped. I quickly hid behind a shelf that had all the souvenirs placed on it- some of them broken. My heart beats increased their pace as the footsteps began again- but this time slower and were turning louder. Then, I could hear the sound of a gun being loaded.

I flicked the knife once in my hand and positioned it properly to throw it at whoever stood there.

I got up and pulled my hand back to throw the knife. But, my arm couldn't move any further.

I somehow managed to get the word out of my mouth, “Mary?”,  I said breathlessly. I could feel the melancholy and disappointment creep over me as my heart sank into nothingness.

Tears ran down her pink cheeks as she tried to soak them back in. Then I saw it. There was fear too; she did not blink; her hands were shaking as she pointed the gun at me.

She put one hand in her bag that hung over her shoulder, removed a file and threw it at me.

“Run”, she said and slowly placed the gun against her forehead. “I am sorry”, she whispered. As she closed her eyes and tears dropped. “No!” I shouted. But then, BANG ; she dropped to the floor. I heard cars come into the driveway of the house.

I didn't know what to do and where to go, but she told me to run.

That’s what I did- as fast as I could , as far as I could.

-Amisha Nakhwa.