Nine - Yellow Tape

“We need to report a break-in,” Cannon said. I was still in shock. My body couldn’t move and my brain couldn’t think properly or form coherent words. I was just mumbling suffixes and prefixes I learnt in grade school. “Miss Wordsworth, are you okay?” I didn’t know what to say or how to say it. It felt like my brain forgot to tell my lungs how to breath and my heart thought it was pumping blood for the spectators attending the premiere league. Apparently, I was crying too because if the slick stuff on my face wasn’t tears then there was a HUGE problem.

“Sir, the bomb on the microwave was locally made..” Bomb? I’m Claire Wordsworth. Why would anyone plant a bomb in my kitchen? I used to pick my nose as a kid! I still do but not as often.

“Contact Mr. Carter, Miss. Wordsworth is hyperventilating.”

The next series of occurrence was blur but I remember sitting on the floor, just outside my apartment with a towel wrapped around me. I was still crying and sniffling. The hallway was crowde