The Secretary and Her Boss

Chapter 24

I was playing a far creepier version of 'hide and seek', where I didn't know if the person I was looking for would answer or be unharmed when I finally did find him.

It felt like a weird movie that couldn't decide if it was a comedy or a thriller, called 'Is He Hurt or Sleeping?' 

Please be sleeping... please be okay... please be a comedy instead of a scary thriller movie. 

When I got inside, my inability to remember the details of Laurence's floor plan left me fumbling for light switches, crashing info coffee tables, and hissing as I rubbed the pain out of my shins. 

After crashing into a bookcase, and sending several books falling on top of myself, I finally turned on my phone light and got my bearings. I went through the living room, down the hall, and passed the kitchen. Several takeout containers sat empty on the counter. The only clue that he had even been home recently.

"Laurence..." I called. 

No response. 

Walking back toward his bedroom, I had a strong sense of Deja Vu from my last visit, flashes of memories rushing back. 

Ignoring them, I walked by a guest room, curtains pulled back from the windows, the only source of light from the outside world so far. The view was breathtaking, tall green trees stretching toward the sky, giving the illusion that the room was nestled in a tree, like a tree house, the deep green curtains and the wood floorboards adding to the illusion. 

I approached the master bedroom at the end of the hall, everything falling into darkness again as I left the guest room behind.

A strange, loud sound came from behind the closed door, like wild static. 

What am I walking into? 

I knocked, the wild static sound the only response. 

"Laurence?"

No response.

Taking a deep breath, I opened the door, stumbled across the threshold and fell over something on the floor. 

A body.

Scrambling away from it, I screamed. And a moment later, a second startled shout joined mine. 

The room was suddenly blaring with light, and I found myself screaming at a pile of clothes that I had tripped over. 

Not a body. 

Laurence's bedside lamp was on and he was staring at me with a wide eyed expression, hair mussed, blinking rapidly, clearly having just woken up. "Lily, why are you screaming?"

"I thought you were dead on the floor!" I shouted, flustered and relieved. 

Laurence sat up straighter, the blankets pooling at his waist, showcasing his lack of pajama shirt. "Did... you break into my home? Again...?" he asked, groggy, rubbing his eyes. "Should I be concerned about this impulse of yours?"

"You didn't answer your phone!" 

"It's off. I was sleeping," he muttered. "Something the doctor encouraged I do more of."

"I knocked... A lot."

"Sound machine," he said, gesturing to the loud noisy box next to him. "So I wouldn't be disturbed by loud noises... like screaming at the sight of laundry."

My face burned, embarrassment washing over me as my worry and adrenaline washed away. I sunk down on the edge of his bed, relieved and irritated. "I'm sorry. I thought something had happened to you."