As it's lateafternoon- well past lunch time- I head home, where I change into acomfortable long-legged playsuit similar to the one I modelled lastnigh... and crash on my sofa, iPad in hand. I've barely finished checkingmy messages when the front door opens and my mum- and her very visiblebump- steps through the front door."Hey mum," I say, helping her with her coat as she sits down."Oh for god's sake," mum sighs, "I'm pregnant! I'm not an invalid!" I'm just being a good daughter," I argue."That'd. I really like eating. What about you?" I like cooking and baking, annoying my friends and reading classics." Oooo," she said. "An educated man. And you're cooking better be up to scratch if you wanna deal with my love of eating."He chuckled and they continued talking until the dinner was ready, then he served it up and sat next to her at the counter. "Does the judge approve?" he asked, and she nodded, spooning another mouthful of stew into her mouth. He tried hard not to stare but her mouth was. I opened the door for a woman, closed it for a psycho, and sat in uncomfortable silence for half an hour. But I certainly enjoyed telling it. Part of me was hoping beyond reason that she'd show up at my door and knock. The rest of me was rationalizing why that would be a bad thing. I don't know what the shouting man's problem had been. It could be that Sara had much deeper issues than simply poor taste in men. So, I told the story at home and at work, online and in real life. I was slowly but. Angela heard sounds that weren’t produced by her, they didn’t appear to come from her inhuman attacker either -- the fiend was too small for these noises, in fact it should be too small to overpower her, at all, but it was inhumanly/infernally strong. The sounds were huge panicked breaths and they were coming from behind the fiend. Angela strained to see past the dark form. She tried to ignore the pain in her own body to peer into the shadows behind it. The snorting, scared breathing became.
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