The
Pink Orchid 2022 for Women-Centric Erotica Challenge
was organised by Literotica author Omenainen, to embrace Women-centric erotica. I hope I can do my characters and the theme justice. I'm dedicating this story to the single parents out there, particularly single mothers of course. Some friends who I admire most are single parents, where they're constantly trying their best to put their children first, sacrificing much to make a great go of things despite experiencing frequent lack-of-support and often coming from less than happy relationship situations. This one's for you.
And apologies for any typos and errors, where despite my best efforts at proof reading they get through.
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© 2022 Thefireflies, for Literotica
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CHAPTER 1
A piercing scream woke Annabelle from a dream she'd already forgotten, her heart responding to the adrenaline release.
That's Millie! My baby!
Throwing the covers off, she was out of bed and through the door, switching on lights and halfway down the hall before her mind started catching up, calling out, "Mills! Are you okay?"
Through her squinting eyes she could see Isaac emerge from his room, opposite Millie's door. He was reaching for the handle and he looked to her and said, "Mum, I think someone's in there with Mills."
Millie's door flew open and she stood there, holding her red Fender by its neck, her eyes wide, darting between her mother and brother. Annabelle went to her and said, "What is it, sweetheart?"
"A man...he was coming through the window!" She looked at her guitar as if only now the gravity of the last few moments occurred to her. "I think I've killed him!"
"Let me see," Isaac said, trying to push past his sister.
"Stay back." Annabelle's adrenaline ramped up to eleven. "Move into the hall, both of you."
"He was climbing through the window," Millie blurted, holding her guitar, "And I swung the first thing I grabbed."
Millie turned to face the blinds and with heart still thumping, Annabelle peered there too, her hand groping for the light-switch, flicking it, the room immediately bright and seemingly empty. The curtain barely shifted, a moth flew to the light, casting its speedy shadow about, banging into the ceiling a few times, and Millie stepped towards the window.
"Stop," Annabelle said. "He could be there."
"I hit him," Millie whispered, "He must've fallen to the ground."
"He's fucked off," Isaac said. "We should go look outside."
Annabelle turned to her son. "You will do no such thing and please don't use that language, especially around here."
"We should call the police," Millie said, examining her guitar.
"Good idea, Mills. Did you actually hit him?"
Millie nodded, her eyes still large. "I picked this up and swung it. I hit something."
"Great," Isaac said with a grin, "Maybe you did kill him. You'll have to claim self-defence."
Millie shook her head. "No, I couldn't have. No way."
"Zac," Annabelle said as calmly as possible, "Please call the police."
Isaac turned and crossed to his room while Millie whispered, "I mean, he was coming through the window. It's not my fault..."
"No, it's not," Annabelle said, lifting the curtain and peering into the dark. She couldn't see a thing and she went to her daughter and held her. "It's really not your fault."
A knock at the door made them jump and a muffled voice called out, "Hello, it's Felix from upstairs. I heard a scream, everyone okay?"
Isaac was walking back into the room and Annabelle met her son's eyes. "Would you check the door, but don't open it unless it is Felix, please."
Isaac hesitated but more knocking spurred Annabelle to urge him into action by glaring fiercely and gesturing her head towards the door. Isaac moved to the door, out of view in the hall, but Annabelle heard him unlock and speak with the upstairs neighbour who she'd met on only two occasions previously.
She could hear his voice, his accent, and Felix appeared in front of Annabelle and Millie, looking into the room. "Everyone okay? Your son said you have an intruder?"
"Had and intruder," Isaac corrected him. "Mills smashed him back out the window with her axe."
Felix appeared confused and Annabelle said, "Someone came through the window and Millie said she hit him with her guitar. I think he's fled."
Felix nodded and only now did Annabelle notice his five-o'clock shadow of stubble on his jaw and muscular arms sticking through his tight singlet top, a vibrant blue and yellow parrot tattoo upon his right bicep. Previously their interactions were fleeting, in the carpark and entrance foyer to the building, yet in those instances she'd considered him handsome. Now he looked to the window and said, "I'll take a look outside if you like."
"Be careful," Annabelle said, with a nod. Glancing at Isaac, she added, "And the police are on their way."
"I'll go with you," Isaac said to Felix, holding a small LED torch with a powerful beam.
Felix shielded his eyes and Annabelle said, "No, Isaac, you stay inside with us. But lend Mr..."
"Dias, but call me Felix."
"Lend Felix your torch please."
Isaac handed over the light and Felix left them. Millie was mumbling, "I saw him coming through in the moonlight and I was scared and didn't think. Now they'll arrest me. I hate this fucking neighbourhood."
"No one's getting arrested," Annabelle said, stroking her daughter's mostly short hair, lamenting she'd cut her beautiful long hair off early in the New Year. And lamenting where they now lived. She looked up at Isaac, catching his eye. "The police?"
"On their way, Mum. Relax."
"I hate this fucking neighbourhood," Millie whispered again, and the pangs of guilt and frustration made themselves known to Annabelle's heart, not for the first time.
The powerful beam of Isaac's torch shone through the window and Annabelle pulled the curtain back, seeing Felix there in early dawn's pre-twilight, his head a good half metre below the window sill. "Anything there?"
"No one," Felix replied. "There's a bin against the wall below the window, on its side."
"Don't touch it, so the police can examine it."
Felix smiled. "I've seen enough cop shows to know not to touch a crime scene."
Annabelle felt her face flush at his smile, surprising her greatly, but before anymore thoughts formed, flashing lights appeared outside as a police car pulled up directly out front. Two young constables, a man and woman, arrived at the unit block's door, Isaac letting them into the building, along with Felix, and when she met them at the door, Annabelle noted Mrs Farrugia from across the hall was standing in her doorway, watching, leaning on the door jamb. The woman caught her eye as she greeted the police officers, but she ignored her for the time being.
"This way, please," Annabelle said to the officers, noting how young they looked, both appearing in their late teens like Millie, or more likely their early twenties. Briefly she thought of her grandmother's words, telling her,
When you get to my age, all the professional people like doctors and police look like kids.
The thought made Annabelle feel old.
They entered the room and Millie told them what transpired. The police asked several questions, took notes, examined the window, examined outside, Felix telling them about the bin. Eventually they returned to the unit and told them there were footprints in the dirt other than Felix's and they found the flyscreen in the bushes next to the bin, but there wasn't much they could do.
"Probably best to keep your windows closed," the young woman told them. "Ground floor units like yours are easy targets, especially around here. I'd consider installing bars or grills on windows if it were my place."
"We'll keep you informed if we hear anything," the other officer said.
Annabelle nodded, and when they left she shook her head and shut the window.
"It's too hot to keep our windows closed," Isaac whined. "Unless you let us turn on the air conditioner at night."
"I'll buy you pedestal fans," Annabelle said, considering the cost of running the air conditioner all night. "The air con's only in the main living area so it's not going to help down this end anyway."
"Fucking bullshit," Millie muttered, and Annabelle went to say something, but let it go.
Felix cleared his throat and said, "I best get going then."
"Oh," Annabelle said, almost forgetting he was there. "Thank you so much for helping, Mr Dias."
"My pleasure," he said. "Is there anything else I can help with?"
A dirty thought crossed Annabelle's mind, shocking her, but she kept herself together and said, "I don't think so, not unless you can wind the clock back so we can catch up on our sleep. It's after five and my alarm goes off at six."
He chuckled. "I'm afraid my skills don't extend to manipulating time, but I can bring you coffee."
Annabelle only knew a handful of things about her upstairs neighbour: she found him handsome; she liked his accent, which she guessed was from South America or maybe Southern Europe; she knew he had a young daughter named Mariana, but had never seen a wife or girlfriend; and he drove a little van with the name of a café and a picture of roasted coffee beans on its side.
Thus, without further thought, she said, "Coffee would be lovely, thank you."
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Tori Amos sang
Precious Things
through Annabelle's phone's tiny speaker, which she placed on the bench before picking up the bag of approximately half a loaf of bread, blue blotches sprouting all over.
No toast for breakfast and no sandwiches for lunch. It could be worse, we're all alive and whoever tried to break in has run away. And thank goodness for coffee,
Annabelle thought, taking a sip of her second coffee this morning. She'd made it with her Nespresso pod coffee machine and decided it wasn't even close to the delicious coffees Felix brought her and Millie an hour earlier.
This kitchen could use a renovation
, she thought, as she often did, standing at the bench, listening to the washing machine spinning-up in the hall laundry-nook, considering which of her children left the bread out the previous day.