“I need to call the police.” She spoke to Monty, who slept at the foot of her bed. He picked up his head, yawned and put his head back on his paws, his eyes following her movement around the room.
“But why didn’t Matthew? All he had to do was tell them what happened.” She looked at Monty for agreement. She took his steady gaze and lack of opposition as a sign she was right. “And why was someone after him?”
She tried to run her hands through her hair but a rubber band stopped her. She growled at the sight of herself in the mirror. Her hair sat in a crooked ponytail on top of her head. The bruise on her cheek stood out against her pale skin and the dark circles under her eyes reminded her of what a shitty day it had been so far. And in the wee hours of the morning, the next day didn’t seem to be starting off any better.
“Why? Why? Why?” she ranted.
In Denise's Head! 