Chapter Text
Ella blinks and looks up at the ceiling. There aren’t very many noises that can wake her from a dead sleep these days. She’s lived in this part of the city nearly sixty years, this house for fifty, and well into her eighties now she rarely troubles herself with things that go bump in the night. She holds her breath and then she hears it. A knock on the door plain as day. She turns to the bedside clock and frowns. It’s past ten. She can’t imagine who might be knocking at her door at this hour.
“Help…Please!" A girl’s voice is weak, but clear. “Help…help me.”
Ella immediately sits up and swings her legs over the side of the bed. She fishes her glasses off the night stand and stands up. Her old bones creak and groan, but she ignores their complaints and bends down to pull an ancient six-shooter out of the side table drawer. The pistol is heavy and cool in her hand. She keeps it loaded, cleans, and checks it regularly, she’s no fool, and it will fire if she needs it too. She quickly unwraps the leather strap attached to the butt of the gun and pulls it over her head quickly shoving one arm through the sturdy loop.
Her husband Rolf had insisted on the strap. He’d told her once that it was the best way to ensure you never lost your weapon in a fight. She didn’t ask him why or how he knew that. Her husband had been a man of few words and whenever he’d spoken to her in that heavy tone she’d known to pay close attention and it had served her well.
The gun dangles awkwardly around her waist and Ella pushes it back under her arm. She’ll need both hands to get down the stairs. She moves as swiftly as she can to the landing and starts the steep decent. She should have left this old place years ago, but she just can’t make herself walk away from a lifetime of memories. This old house is all she had left.
The knock comes again.
“Hold you horses I’m coming!” Ella yells. “No need to beat the door down!”
The knocking stops.
Ella makes her ways steadily down the stairs and moves to the front door. She flips on the porch light and peeks out the spy-hole. Rolf has always called it that with a little grin and a wink she’d never quite understood. She frowns. There’s nothing to see on the porch. For a second or two she’s completely stumped. She turns and looks at the back door. Why anyone would be at the back door she’s can’t imagine.
She shakes her head and carefully makes her away across her small but tidy living room. She peeks out the spy-hole and sees nothing but blackness. She reaches for the light switch, flips it on, and blinks in surprise.
There’s a girl slumped on the porch.
Ella takes a moment to study this new and utterly strange development.
The girl scrunches her eyes against the sudden brightness. She’s sitting on the porch with her back against the rail. Her position explains the knocking. There’s no way she could reach the door bell from where she’s is.
“Please…can you help me?” The girl licks her lips. She tilts her head back and groans loud enough to be heard through the door. “I’m sorry to…to bother you…but my cell is toast and a need a…phone.” She pants out a breath. “I…I just need to call for help…someone will come for me…I promise.” She smiles up at the spy-hole. “Please…”
Ella sighs and rests her forehead against the door. She doesn’t want to open it. This neighborhood has gone downhill in the last decade or so and she doesn’t want to get involved with whatever trouble this girl has gotten herself into. She should just call 911 and wait for the cops to get here. They’ll take care of it. She takes another look through the spy-hole.
The girl is obviously injured. It’s chilly enough outside to see the girl’s breath.
Ella heaves a tired sigh.