Narration
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Young Adult (18-35)Accents
North American (General)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
Chapter one Monday night. I hope you don't mind, but I let myself in. I had a key. Well, I found a key and used it. The war makes a squealing sound when it opens. Don't worry. I'll oil the hinges for you tomorrow while you're at work. It won't take long. I promise. I'll be in and out. You won't even know I was here. I talked to her inside my head. She left her laptop on and her half finished glass of wine has a pink lipstick stain on the brim. Pink and orange sticky notes, air stuck to every part of the table and around the screen of the computer, touching the track pad. I take a seat where she was sitting on the suede sofa. It's soft and silent. The screen flickers on and leaves her whole world open to me. Photos. Facebook Instagram Even her bank statements air open. It's like every tab of her life is there tempting me? Just one click away The temptations. There's so many in here, but this will be the quietest. So I started by opening her Facebook page and scrolling through her posts, pictures and friends. You can learn a lot from who a person blocks on social media, and she has only one on her list. What did Max will see Stone do to deserve that block? He looks like a good guy. He's in some of her old photographs, holding hands, hugging, she kisses and other pathetic selfies. I'm glad to see her need to photograph her own faces. Died since then, Selfies or such a vile habit. I pick up her glass and sipped the wine. She didn't finish. The rich merlot slide smoothly down my throat. She has good taste. In wine, the perfect pound of her lips is outlined on the glass. The pink of her lipstick remains there, leaving a piece of her behind. I like it off, tasting her, its waxy but sweet and melts on my tongue with the next sip of wine moving on from Facebook, I look at all the other open tabs and documents on her computer. Her calendar pops up with a reminder. Look how organized she is. Every detail of every day outline down to the last five minutes. An alarm is set for 11 that says, Take your sleeping pill and go to bed how efficient. I wonder why she needs that till her life seems so perfect. My intention skips from the screen to the post, it notes. She is tacked onto everything names, dates, numbers and appointments already in the calendar. The green ones, though they're different. Don't call him. He's not worth it. You deserve better. Ivy. He smelled like sandalwood and leather. His hair was always perfect. His kisses were like cold water. After a long run, he hurt you. Don't be stupid. These green ones are scattered between her other thoughts randomly, like she needs them to remind her of this heartache. I plucked them off each one, sticks them together and put them in my shirt pocket. She should really forget things like that. She doesn't need to think about him anymore. She will have plenty of other things to distract her. I smile and finished the last of the whiner glass, putting it down where she had left it on a coaster that says, Keep calm on it. The small taste wine has made me want more. I'm not done with my fact finding mission, so I go to her small kitchenette. The radio is playing softly and I get the impression she's not. Bond of silence changing the station I glance around at the spotlessly clean surfaces. The white and stainless steel appliances are all polished to a shine in the corner. Just like in the living room. There is a small ant that has been left on. Are you afraid of the dark? Is that why you need a pill to go to sleep? Don't worry. I don't like the dark either. The music makes it so you won't hear things go bump in the night. Most people these days leave the TV on. But you don't have one. My nine.