Something’s Not Right

Layla

Monday morning hits me like a ton of bricks. The sun is shining hot and heavy when I roll out of bed at nearly 10:00, blinking rapidly to adjust to the startling glare. I slept like the dead. No dreams fractured my mind last night but…

I sit on the edge of the bed, dressed in a men’s shirt that smells like Dalton. 

My throat bobs as I swallow against the sudden tightening there. A dull ache spreads up my inner thighs, and a bite mark I know is on my left breast sings with awakening pain. 

Memories of last night crawl back to the forefront of my mind while I sit in the hot sun. Last night, a storm of epic proportions rolled over the property, leaving destruction in its wake. I rise from bed and walk to the window, seeing Curtis on the back lawn cleaning up branches and debris. 

Deep puddles glisten in the sunlight–and beyond the yard? 

The marsh is lost beneath a thick layer of fog, l