66 Arime

With slow and heavy footsteps, I got back into my room and found my stash of cash hidden underneath the mattress.

With an exasperated sigh, I went back to the front and opened the door, quickly handing her the money before I could snatch it back and close the door in her face again.

As if she knew my intentions, Lou had swiftly put the money into her bra before I could even take it back, almost like a squirrel stuffing nuts into its mouth to keep anyone else from getting to it.

I was tempted to ask her for a receipt so that I could write it off on my taxes or as proof that my 'debt' has been paid but had to refrain.

Since she was the only one who picked up and helped me, I'll just let it go.

"I'm Auntie Lou. What's your name, sweetie?" She tried to start a conversation now with a wide smile on her face, smug that she had managed to swindle money out of me.

"Arime," I said, giving her this slightly impatient look to hurry along so I can get back inside as if I had something very important to do.

Which I don't.

But the lady didn't take the hint, as expected.

"Arime? I've never heard Emira talk about you and I've known her for over 40 years now," she said.

Lies.

She's been living next to us for 21 years and I'm sure that she exaggerated because I'm currently only 36 years old.

"I'm a distant distant distant relative from Ohio," I said, putting plenty of emphasis on 'distant'.

"Is that so? What are you doing here in this ratchet town?" she asked with this curiosity that she always has when new neighbors move in.

And did she just say ratchet?

"I'm on the phone right now so..." I completely ignored her question and tried to give another hint that she was not getting.

"Do you have a boyfriend?" The lady just continued talking as if she didn't hear my words.

She was probably asking for her forty-two-year-old son who had been in three previous marriages that only visits her at Christmas.

I don't even know why she tries.

"I have to go." I didn't give her any time to respond and slammed the door in her face again without remorse this time.

As I walked away, I could hear her screeching at how 'rude' and 'ill-mannered' I was.

But I don't care.

I'm not Emira anyways.

.

.

.

I have been stalking the black van as much as it has been stalking me.

The male in the van stayed there almost all of the day, rarely leaving his post at the front of my house.

Someone always brings him food and takes away his trash and pee bottles around noon time.

If he ever did leave, someone would replace his station for the night until they swapped out again in the morning.

I just couldn't understand why they are even stalking me so closely like this.

Was it because I might be the only one returned after being captured by the werewolves?

Perhaps, they thought that I was involved with the werewolves.

I don't know but it's driving me nuts from being holed inside of my house for these last 6-7 days.

I couldn't come up with a single logical reason as to why they were keeping such a tight watch on me.

It was nerve-wracking not to know the unknown.

I was literally a sitting duck waiting to be plucked and cook.

And I am not going to let myself get captured that easily without putting up a fight.

With a swift kick at the covers on the bed, I took out all of my hidden cash underneath the mattress and stuffed it into a small bag.

Along with the cash, I also placed some spare keys, pepper spray, and a packet of gum in there too.

Traveling light was a must in this case because lugging around a heavy suitcase was not going to be any help, especially if I am trying to escape.

It was almost 3 in the morning when I looked out the front window and checked the back alley.

Nothing was amiss.