RED LIGHTNING

In my kitchen, I’m preparing to cook my favorite comfort food: spaghetti with garlic knots and a fresh salad with Thousand Island dressing. Lately, I’ve been indulging in comfort foods—sometimes it’s a bowl of Corn Pops topped with orange sherbet ice cream or Girl Scout Thin Mint Pop-Tarts with a cold glass of milk. The good news is the crying has finally passed. I was listening to Napster, playing my Morgan Wallen playlist, because seeing the world through "Whiskey Glasses" is exactly what I am doing right now. There’s nothing quite like country music for making the broken-hearted feel worse. Singing “Whiskey Glasses” at the top of my lungs, off-key, while I set up my solo dinner, I can feel the hollow ache of solitude. It’s hard being alone after so many years in a relationship—even a toxic one. I hear the next song, and Post Malone is serenading me, telling me this one’s for the losers. I will drink to that.

As I sit in my granddaddy’s house, licking my wounds and hoping to heal not only a broken heart, but my body and soul, the yellow-and-gray house nestles far back off the main highway, shielded from strangers by a forest of pine trees that reach up to the night sky. Anyone passing down this road would not know I was there, not even my family. I didn’t tell anyone I was coming, knowing the house would be empty; that’s exactly what I thought I needed. It’s the same house I grew up in, every nook and cranny as familiar as a heartbeat. I smile, remembering the loose floorboard in the hallway, where childhood secrets and treasures still sleep in the shadows. I closed my eyes because I felt the burning and knew the tears were coming, wishing my Daddy JC was there to hold me and tell me it would all be okay. But he passed away a long time ago, and I still miss him. Squeezing my eyes tight, I force the tears back into my body. I’ve gotta be strong.

Suddenly, a flood of memories slammed into me—the story times with my Daddy JC, imaginary friends, mud pies, family meals that made the kitchen glow with laughter and light. The warmth of the recollection fills me from within. Tears well in my eyes again; in the background, Post Malone still croons, “This one’s for the losers.” I would drink to that again—one more glass of Cabernet Sauvignon. Then I realize the wine glass is still on the table; tonight, I drink straight from the bottle.

I am not usually a drinker, but ever since the horrible breakup and the knock, I have been drinking more often. I had to leave town—some say I ran away. I took a leave of absence from work just to run from the pain, both physical and mental. Now, sitting alone on the floor, legs crossed, letting my homemade spaghetti sauce simmer—a recipe mastered from TikTok—the tears finally escape my eyes and slip down my face. My therapist said to let it out, cry when I need to, and after ten months, the tears still fall like day one.

I walk into the kitchen to check on my solitary dinner. I lean my head back against the faded wall, and the memories of ten months ago take hold. My body starts to shake, and I slide down the wall to the cold wooden floor. Normally I would stop myself, turn away from the pain of those memories, pushing them back into my own Pandora’s Box. But tonight I know: it’s time to face the demons I have avoided for so long.

10 Months Ago

I was laughing with friends at brunch, eating blueberry lemon pancakes. Karaoke nights where we were the stars, singing our hearts out. That was my happy place. Reagan T. Wynlake was finally, truly happy. I had real friends—not just borrowed ones.

I’d broken up with my ex, Sterling J. Blackwell, after ten years. I thought I’d fall to pieces, but the opposite happened: I felt alive for the first time in years. I’d built my own life, made my own friends, and even gotten a dog—Pixel—to join my bunny, Bluetooth. I had a new place, a new car, and a freedom I’d never known. My family was thrilled I’d finally escaped Sterling, a narcissistic creep.

After so long being told what to do and constantly criticized, it was an adjustment learning to be my own person, to come and go as I pleased. A smile spread across my face as I thought about those days.

Now

The smell of my homemade sauce snapped me back to the present. I rushed into the kitchen so it wouldn’t burn. As I brushed past the fridge and bumped into it, a sharp pain shot through my shoulder, jolting me back to that night—April 12, 2023. The night everything changed.

I stood in the small kitchen, a bottle of wine in my hand, trembling. The glass slipped and shattered on the floor.

Get it together, Reagan. You’re in control now—not the memories.

This was the first time in ten months I’d been alone like this, and I was starting to wonder if I’d made a terrible mistake.

The Aftermath & Pain

Surprisingly, I thought I was doing better than I really was. On my way to Daddy JC’s house, I had stopped in town and stocked up on food because I did not plan to go anywhere outside the house if I could avoid it. Christina, my best friend, was the only person who knew where I was in Alabama. As I lay on the floor, trying to get to my feet, the pain now radiating over my entire body hadn't felt this bad in months. Is this real pain, or my mind creating this wall of pain to stop me from remembering? I pulled myself up and moved the food off the burners; at least my dinner didn't burn. The pain hit me again, so strong I no longer had an appetite. I stumbled onto the couch and collapsed. I saw blood and realized I'd cut my foot on some of the shattered glass. I lay there, thinking, Where are my pain meds? At this point, I started to profusely cry. I felt like I did that night.

The Storm & The Red Lightning

Ten months ago, I was so happy to have friends, and my life was going great even though I had lost so much recently. At work on April 12, 2023, they advised a flash flood warning and torrential rains with thunderstorms were expected. But I’m not sure anyone was prepared for the flooding and storm that were coming. After work, I made sure I had candles and my flashlights just in case the power went out, like it normally does in Fort Lauderdale. I decided to cook something simple and easy so at least I would have food if I lost power. My kitchen was an open floor plan with a window that usually let just the right amount of sun in. But today, no sun was to be seen; I checked the time on my Samsung smart watch. It was around 5:30 p.m. I cooked some garlic butter salmon with lemon wedges, yellow rice, and asparagus—tasty, quick.

I glanced out the window once I was done cooking, and the sky was black, and the rain was coming down in sheets. You could barely see anything because of the heavy rain, until the lightning crackled as if the sky was breaking into pieces and lit up the entire sky. This was going to be a long night. They had already told us work was canceled for tomorrow since most areas were already flooded. I sat down to eat my dinner and turned on Murder She Wrote, If It’s Thursday It's Beverly. I was not really paying attention, as I had seen most episodes several times already. I was just trying to keep preoccupied in this storm. I finished my meal and walked back into the kitchen to drop the dishes in the sink; I was not about to do dishes right now. Heading back to my living room, walking past the kitchen window, I saw the lightning flash and crackle. It shocked me; yes, I had seen lightning hundreds of times, but this lightning was red. Red lightning crackled across the sky and lit up the night. That is when I noticed the car in front of my house with the hood up and the emergency lights blinking. In this weather, cars breaking down and stalling out was common. I went and plopped down on my big gray comfy couch. I could not get the sight of the red lightning out of my mind. Is that really a thing, or were my eyes playing tricks on me? Snuggled up under my blanket to see what murder Jessica would stick her nose into next, when I heard a knock at my door.

The Knock & The Stranger

The knock startled me. For a moment, I did not move. Then I heard the loud knock again. I looked at my Blink camera app to see who it was. It was a woman standing there, dripping wet and shivering. I jumped off the couch and walked to the door. I cracked open the door and saw this woman standing there, looking wet and cold.

“Yes, can I help you?”

She looked around nervously, or maybe she was just cold. She said, "I’m sorry to bother you on such a horrible night, but my car overheated, it stalled out. I think I may have a leak now." Her face looked like she feared the storm and talking to a stranger. She knew I was trying to figure her out and see if I should help her. She then pulled out her phone. The screen was black, and water was dripping out of the device. She then said, "I was calling a tow truck, and when I got out of the car, I dropped my phone in the water." Her backpack was soaked as well. She looks like this storm, a wreck.

"Oh wow!" I exclaimed. "Come in, and I will let you use my phone to call the tow truck." I opened the door to my home and allowed her inside. "Oh, thank you so much! My name is Delyssa." Our eyes locked for a brief moment. She seemed so familiar to me.

"Hi Delyssa, I’m Reagan. Nice to meet you. Let me grab you a towel so you can dry off."

She smiled at me and looked at me directly in my eyes again as if she was looking deeper into me. I saw a glint of something in her eyes. It must be that red lightning still replaying in my mind, I thought, because I could have sworn, I saw a glint of red in those beautiful brown eyes.

Coffee & Conversation

Wrapped up in a terry cloth towel and having used my phone to call the tow provider, she set up the tow, but it nwould be hours before they got to her car. It was after 9 p.m., the theme music for Murder She Wrote was playing in the background. We were engaged in conversation about the weather, the flooding, and the horrible drain system in the area. Delyssa said, "I’m not from this area; I was up here visiting a friend. I am from Miami Gardens." I told her how I used to live in that area and moved here a few years ago. She said she had been living there most of her life. Her family had a mechanic shop, so she knew her way around a car for a "chic."

She pulled out a flask; do you mind I am freezing. Of course not. She offered me a drink. I politely declined. She gave me that smile again, with that look like I was missing something. She was still wrapped up in the blue towel and shivering.

"Why don't I go and make us some coffee?" I had a Keurig machine Sterling, had bought me a few years back, and I'd just started using it a few months ago, and I simply loved it.

She said yes, and I proceeded to head to the kitchen, still talking, and I grabbed the K-cups. Delyssa was telling me she worked at a bank and didn't have kids, but her boyfriend, Jay, had two kids whom she adored. I told her about my nonexistent relationship; I had been single for a little over two years now. She scoffed. She thought I was joking. She said she knew I had some man on the side and laughed. If she only knew, not only was I single, but I was also celibate and planned to keep it that way.

I yelled, "Delyssa, how do you like your coffee?"

She responded like we were old friends just catching up, "Make mine just like yours with plenty of sugar," she chuckled softly. I laughed, because I took coffee with my sugar.

The Attack

I walked back into the living room, and Delyssa had unwrapped herself from the towel. I was carrying both cups of coffee. My coffee was in my favorite unicorn cup, and I put hers in the Wonder Woman mug. I think she was putting away her flask; I think she was embarrassed to keep drinking in front of me. She was wearing some red sweatpants and a white graphic tee that read: "To Do List: Your Man" and that was crossed off. I read it and laughed. I looked like a hot mess yard sale. I had on my SpongeBob nightshirt with fuzzy socks. Delyssa’s hair was brunette; even with it being wet, it was wavy with loose curls that framed her face with bronze highlights. Her face was oval, and she had flushed cheekbones, her smile was crooked, and she had a gap in her front teeth. But her smile seemed genuine and sincere. She was a little overweight, but she carried more of it in her butt, belly, and thighs. She had a laugh that cackled with a snort at the end. Looking at her, even looking the hot mess I was, I looked better than her, omg why am I even thinking that. But her personality was so nice and cheerful as cherry pie.

Sitting down, drinking coffee, BOOM, and the power went out. She yelled. I told her it was okay; I had candles and flashlights. I got up and went to get the candles and flashlights.

I said, "Let there be light," she chuckled again.

Now there were lights in the living room and kitchen. I sat back down and grabbed my mug and finished drinking my coffee and chatting with her. After about 20 minutes, I got up to put my cup in the sink and get some water. I walked into the kitchen, and I felt dizzy. I dropped my mug, and it broke into pieces. I hit the floor hard right after; my stomach was in burning knots. I screamed out, "OMG Please!" I don't think I had ever felt anything like this. I was screaming in agony. Lying on the kitchen floor, I saw the rain pounding against the window. Then, the next lightning flash, I saw Delyssa standing over me. I reached for her and begged her to dial 911; something was wrong. But she just stood there looking at me, almost smiling with that gapped-teeth crooked smile. I pleaded for her to help; I was in excruciating pain. She pulled out a huge ceramic knife with a serrated-like edge from her waist band. I was fighting consciousness, and I saw her kneel next to me and she said calmly, "I am Delyssa Montoya. Maybe you heard of me. I am Jay’s girlfriend." I was writhing in agony;I heard her words but didn't understand. She then screamed, "You know Sterling J. Blackwell! My man Jay, and you will not leave him alone!" I was sweating, scared, and trying to focus on her words. She raised the knife and plunged it into my shoulder and giggled. She said, "Oops, I think I peed a little," and smiled again. "You are so gullible; he told me you were a pushover. He was right." She ripped the knife out of me as I screamed so loud I heard Pixel barking hysterically. She barked back, "Shut up, dumb dog!"

"I will kill you if you hurt my dog!"

She plunged the knife into me several more times and sneered, "Not if I KILL YOU FIRST. You know you should have left Jay alone; he doesn't want your ugly ass." I could barely breathe. She said, "The antifreeze is working. You will die painfully and alone “MiamiWicked”, and Jay will have the best woman, ME." I strained to tell her she was wrong; I had not talked to Jay in over two years. She pushed the knife deeper. “Every knock does not need to be answered. Lighting flashed RED again, then everything went black.

Epilogue:

Delyssa left the house the same way she came in. She had planned this day, and killing Reagan was easier than she thought. Reagan lay there dying until the police burst in. Her watch had called 911 when she fell, but she did not know any of this; she was told this when she woke up a week later in the ICU. Delyssa was still on the run, and Jay was cheating with another girl and had put her number under my name. He tried to come see me and call. I told the police, and my family HELL NO!. I almost died for answering a knock at the door.