Page 110 of Carson

I go back out for my last box. It’s filled with all of the paper origami my brother made for me when I was little.

“Hello, Luna,” someone says, walking out from behind the cabin.

I stop dead in my tracks. My brain is scrambling to make sense of what I’m seeing.

“Tim?”

“Ah, you didn’t forget me after all.”

“Well, no. Why would I?”

He laughs the way he used to, but something about him has changed.

“You’re too sweet.”

I glance around the property. “What are you doing here?”

He points. “My camper is parked on the other side of the stream. Dan said it would be all right if I camped there for a few nights.”

The hair on the back of my neck stands on end because I know that’s not true. Dan would never let someone stay out here without telling me.

“Oh. That’s nice.” I take a small step toward the house.

“You want to come down and fish. It’ll be just like old times.”

Tim showed up to the campground I was stranded at in Cheyenne a few days after I did. It was quite a coincidence because we had stayed at the same place the week before in Texas.

Anyway, I got a job at Pizza Hut and then so did he.

He’s always been so nice to me.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I can’t. I, um, I’m busy.”

When he makes a move toward me, I drop the box in my hands and run inside, locking the door behind me. I look toward the back door. I run through the house, grabbing a knife out of the block on the counter as I pass by.

He beats me to the door, stepping inside.

“I waited a long time for a girl like you to come around … timid, shy … alone.”

He matches my steps as I back away.

“And then two fucking Rebel Skulls show up.” He laughs harshly. “I’ve been waiting nearby for the moment they would let their guard down and leave you alone.” His eyes rake over my body.

“No,” I tell him shakily.

“No?” His smile twists. “No, what?”

“I’m sorry. I’m not interested in you.”

His laugh is wicked. “I’m not interested in you. You’re not my type. I prefer my women a little feistier.”

I wave the knife in my hand. “You want feisty?”

He tips his head back and stares up at the ceiling. “I’d prefer if this didn’t get messy. I’ll give you one chance to come to me.”

Then Tim … nice guy Tim … pulls a gun from his pants and points it directly at me.

My fingers tighten around the knife in my hand.