Page 7

THOSE BETTER NOT BE MY PANTIES

brIDGET

I stand at the foot of my bed, looking down at my suitcase, trying to figure out what the hell I’m seeing. Am I losing my mind? Did someone come into my room, and mess with my stuff last night? At least half of my clothes are missing, including my favourite pair of shorts I was planning on wearing.

I walk out into the living room, wanting to see if anyone else is awake, but the house is quiet. There’s no faint smell of coffee lingering in the air, letting me know that even Amber, who is usually the first one up, is still asleep.

As I turn around, about to wake up the girls, I notice the front door is ajar. A pair of underwear, specifically a pair of my panties, are lying in the doorway, half inside, and half outside of the house.

What the actual fuck?

I race across the entryway, coming to a slamming halt with my hands braced against the front door frame.

My clothes…they’re scattered all over the front yard. Almost like someone scooped them up in a heap, and tossed them around without a care in the world.

I rush to collect them all before a wandering hillbilly gets any sick ideas, my mind running a mile a minute about what could’ve happened, but I can’t think straight and logically right now. I’m so fucking pissed.

My only clothes for this trip are damp from the morning air, covered in dirt, and likely going to be stained. I’m too hungover to be doing laundry, but I don’t seem to have a choice now.

Who would even do something like this?

After gathering all of my clothes, I march my ass back inside, and start yelling to wake everyone up.