Part 4 (I don't know what the rules are vis-a-vis starting a new Part 1 when there's already a thread going or submitting more than one entry)

She giggled and walked out the door with a strut like a pimp from a 1970's blaxploitation movie. Oddly, she turned left outside the door and headed opposite the direction of her house.

When the door shut, I felt it: an electric tingle in my hands, breathing air deviod of oxygen, and dizziness liable to land me on the floor.

I screamed at myself, "now is not the time for a panic attack!"

"If ever there was a time for a panic attack, it's now," I retorted internally. That made me laugh; the laugh calmed me enough that I could initiate my panic attack coping mechanisms. I regained my ballast and my wits.

Looking at the clock, the panic spell burned two minutes, leaving me one at most. I decided the grim task would be easier done if I could take him by surprise and ran out my back door. Climbing over fences and running from neighbors' dogs, I circled around the neighborhood and crouched in a rose bush from which I could see through the wide living room window of the house she lived in with her father.

I needed to amp myself up. If I was to do this, I needed to see the monster who did what I saw in that horrid photo. I settled in, managing to find a position that prevented any thorns from pushing into my skin. Their exterior light was on, but I was well concealed from anyone not looking for someone.

Hours I waited. Finally I saw her father walking towards the front door on the sliver of sidewalk visible from my vantage point. He disappeared from view temporarily before entering the house, at which point I could see him through the window.

He didn't look like a monster. He looked like a broken man. He collapsed on the couch, and I could see his shoulder peaking over the back of the couch with each heaving breath. Suddenly he bolted upright and froze. Transfixed with his apparent sobbing, I didn't see her enter. She strode over to him slowly, smiling, head tilted condescendingly like a dog owner watching her pup chase its tail.

She stopped in front of him, at eye level as he was still seated. The smile drained from her face. She held up the polaroid and started screaming at him. Startled by her sudden change I lurched back. A dozen thorns pierced my skin. I yelped. She looked outside. Our eyes met.