by Kim Petersen
“I have given our marriage a whole lot of hope over this past year; for instance, I hoped that you would be happy when we fell pregnant. I hoped that you would realise the gift those two little boys are to you. I hoped you would forgive my ‘betrayal’, and I hoped that tonight you might be ready to finally put all this bullshit behind us.”
Her hope was no more than a futile wish made through the tarnished mirror in which she viewed her life. And the only faith she could manage to conjure up now, appeared in the back-up plan she had been making for her and the twins. Emily pulled a bleeding nail bed from her mouth to inspect the damage for a moment.
“I know now it really wasn’t hope that I should have been practising. It was faith. Faith in myself.” She looked at Chad with an eerie calmness.
“You’re losing your mind, woman!” Chad rolled his eyes. “I can’t do this now Emily, I need some sleep.”
“Fine. I am done with hoping for us,” she said quietly. “If you can’t forgive me, Chad, then I will do it for you.”
Chad made no effort to conceal the aggravation that afflicted him. “Now I’m sure you’ve lost your mind! Just who do you think you are? Nothing but a disloyal bitch that betrayed her husband, that’s who! You ruined our life, and now you have the audacity to forgive me?” His voice rose and white droplets of spittle foamed in the corners of his mouth as he tumbled over his words. “Oh, how I should thank you for your kindness in forgiving me. Ha! You just went ahead and did as you pleased. Never did I tell you that I wanted a family. Never! And now look at the dirty hag you have become … Get out of here, Emily, I want to go to my bed you have parked your arse on.” He stormed out of the room, leaving her to contemplate the venom of his words.
She watched the door where he had exited with a trace of indifference. She willed herself to adopt the detached attitude she felt sprinkling through her mind like a relieving mantle of golden fairy dust. She acknowledged the fate of her future that now spread out before her with a certain ring of clarity. She knew she could no longer endure a loveless life with the man she had given her heart to so completely.
As she rose with a wince, her thoughts turned to the happiest days of her childhood. She recalled holidays she had spent as a child down on the south coast of New South Wales with her parents. Treasured visions of the days spent with her real father appeared in her mind as she made her way to her bedroom. She remembered how she had loved the south coast and its rocky cliffs that overlooked the roaring sea, and as she lay her head down on her pillow, Emily knew it was those cliffs along the ocean that called out to her now. Closing weary eyes, she fell into the deepest, most settled sleep she had enjoyed in a long time. She had finally found the respite she sought, or rather, it had found her.
***
The Softail Heritage thundered along the expressway with a rumbling roar. He grinned with satisfaction as he gave his attention to the sound of the engine beneath him. The arousal the Harley induced in him did not fail. Stimulating thoughts permeated his mind as he weaved through the traffic. He felt a deepening urge as Cathy tightened her grip around his waist as he accelerated.
“Slow down!” she shouted into his ear through the cutting wind that circulated around them.
He laughed, then shifting the throttle, gunned the engine even harder down the expressway. Thin long fingers dug into his abdomen as her screams competed with the rush of cool air, lending to the thirst of his desire. He sped on towards her dorm quarters with the urgency of the excitement that grew within him. Wow! What a combo! His mind raced between the combination of his beloved bike and the panic of a screaming girl as his passenger. As he neared their destination, he could feel the growing bulge that strained against his jeans, and pulled the bike to a halt. I need her now, damn it!
He dismounted hastily and turned to hustle her off to her room. “C’mon,” he urged, pulling on her slender arm towards the dorm.
Cathy yanked her arm away and glared at him. “Why did you do that to me?” She smoothed back the wisps of ashen-blonde hair that clung around her face.
“Do what, sugar-puss?” he crooned.
“You know what!” She punched his arm before swivelling on her heels and sashaying towards the small rooms she would call home for the next three years.
“Ouch!” The lust in his eyes intensified as his eyes swept over the smooth curves of her denim-covered buttocks.
He followed at a leisurely pace, eyeing her body with sexual anticipation.
He picked up the pace as she neared her door and, with the turn of the key, swung a black leather-clad arm over her head to slam the door behind them. She gasped and turned to face him, and just as the thin line of her lips opened to express her disapproval, she found herself being pushed roughly into the room.
He groped feverishly at the black leather that separated the two of them, and casting both their jackets aside, moved onto the next item of clothing. He ripped and clawed at her blouse. The material split easily between his fingers to expose perky breasts. She struggled in vain against his strength, finally letting her arms fall as he became more excited.
He tore at her tight blue denim jeans, avoiding her protesting kicks as he grappled with her bony ankles, pinning them under him with the ease of a slick hunter. This was a new game to him; had he realised just how exciting this could be, he would have worked on his hunting skills sooner. Perhaps women could uphold my interest after all, he thought, with a flick of the black hair that fell over his eyes. Pressing the full weight of his body against her, he hushed the muted whimpering that came from terrified lips, with the soothing tone of his deep voice and a large, sweaty palm over her mouth. Then savouring throbbing rush between his thighs, he moved into her smooth parted legs, and like the most deadly of black snakes, entered the sweet secret place that had opened just for him.
He lost himself to the hedonistic cloud that had engulfed him. This was his made-up scene, and he was the star. The filth beneath him was merely a pawn to be moved and manipulated at his will, as this was his creation. His heart raced as he picked up his pace, slamming against his prey with the full force of his weight. She squirmed beneath him in vain, then the hand he had over her mouth slipped for a moment. Teeth bit down in desperation to deliver the potency of a bite that instantly drew blood.
Pain sliced through the fantasy of his gruelling madness. He withdrew his hand and examined the torn flesh of his finger. Cathy took the opportunity to bring her knee up with force into his scrotum. He screamed out and rolled off her, doubling up on the floor near her, and nursing the wounds she had inflicted upon him.
He glimpsed her still lying next to him before moving away. He snatched out at her ankle and flipped her to the floor with a loud thud, winding her. This isn’t over yet, bitch! This is MY scene! Arms and legs thrashed as he mounted her with a renewed sense of determination. He could feel the eerie darkness of the familiar dark cloud rise through him and seep into the deepest pits of his mind. He wrapped her neck in his large hands and pressed his thumbs into the soft flesh over her airway with just enough pressure to give her a scare. Teach her not to fuck with my game. And as he watched her eyes widen in terror beneath his fingers, the college girl transformed into someone else. She was now the woman who had taunted his fantasies since he was twelve. It was her! The dark force within him arched to new heights as the quickening of his heart thumped beneath the concave of his ribcage with sheer excitement. He snarled as he savoured the increased pressure of his thumbs as they bore their way deeper into her flesh. He squeezed harder and harder as he looked on at the weakening body he straddled like a conquering warrior. Finally, the movement slowed and stopped and the gurgling choking sounds that were her last had ceased forever.
He watched the pale body of a woman he had barely known with deranged fascination. He watched her until the light of the afternoon faded. Where had she gone? Trance-like thoughts ran through his confused mind as he pondered the finality of death for the first time in his life. He found the vul
nerability which the breath of life hinged on to be captivating. He watched as the formidable cloud that had shrouded him shifted to reveal the smallest part of him that still loved, still felt and still yearned for the light to bask over him.
He moved to cradle the weight of her head in his lap, and began to rock back and forth. “I’m sorry … I’m sorry,” he whimpered, as memories of the loss of his mother bubbled to the surface and trembled through him. Tears fell freely and he moaned as he struggled to come to terms with taking a life. He wept for Cathy and for the boy he used to be; and most of all, the mother he had loved so much. “Mummy … Mummy …” His body shook with choking sobs while he gently stroked the blonde hair he cradled tenderly. Where did she go? “Why did she have to leave me?” he cried.
Hours passed while he fought to regain control, until finally he gave in to the depraved beast responsible for murder. He knew it would be the only way for him to cope with the gravity of his actions. And as the first glimmer of dawn began to radiate through the room where he had sat unmoving all night long, he leaped into action. He scrubbed and cleaned every part of the room and Cathy’s body with methodical precision, down to carefully scraping under each of her manicured nails. When he was satisfied that there was no evidence left at the scene, he left discreetly.
Chapter Twenty-Two
G len inspected the freshly shaven image that reflected back at him in the mirror. His hands skimmed across his shortly clipped hair before he headed off to fetch his car keys. Today was his favourite day of the week – Saturday. And that meant it was his day to spend time with his granddaughter.
Millie worked at the gallery on Saturday mornings, usually until noon. It hadn’t taken Glen long to jump at the opportunity to offer his babysitting skills when his daughter had found herself in need of someone to look after Arella when Emily had moved out of their apartment years before. Glen had not missed a Saturday with his granddaughter since. He and Arella enjoyed each other’s company, and a strong bond had grown between them over the years. He would do anything for his grandchild, the apple of his eye, and found himself often caving in to her every whim. Arella knew this of him, and being a child of her age, took full advantage of his devotion on more than one occasion. However, Glen didn’t mind as she reminded him so much of his own little Millie-pie when she had been a little girl. And now, he was able to experience a touch of Millie’s sweet childhood again through Arella. Today he had plans to take his little Rella-Bella on a train ride into the city to watch a movie, followed with some ice-cream in Circular Quay where they could stroll around the harbour and catch all the city weekend hurly-burly, as he liked to call it.
Glen paused to take a quick peek in at Ace who was sleeping. He poked his head through the door to Ace’s room, and waited until his eyes adjusted to the dimness of the room. He smiled when he sighted the lumpy figure of his son slumbering soundly beneath a tangle of sweaty bed sheets. He seldom saw his 18-year-old son at home as Glen worked late through the week and Ace was busy with his studies and a casual job at the weekends. He sighed momentarily as he thought about the stranger Ace was becoming to him. Their relationship was marked only by brief exchanges of greetings within a dim hallway. He decided he would try and make it home in time with Arella that afternoon to catch his son before he had to leave for his job as a bartender at the local club.
He frowned as he recognised some blood smeared over a small patch of the bedsheets where Ace lay. Probably just a shaving cut, he concluded. He thought no more of it and turned to leave to collect his granddaughter.
Glen arrived at Millie’s apartment to hear her calling him from her bedroom. He had helped himself to some coffee in the kitchen, sucking in the aroma through his nostrils with a sigh of pleasure. He loved the coffee at his daughter’s unit. The whiff of freshly ground coffee beans beat the instant coffee he had settled for at home. He vowed that one day he would buy a real coffee maker for himself, but he knew he never would, as he liked it just fine that this was a treat he knew only at his daughter’s place. It made coming here all the more special.
“I’ll be out in a second, Dad! Have some coffee,” Millie called out again from the muffled walls of her wardrobe.
Millie appeared flashing a smile as he and Arella prepared for their day together. She was dressed from head to toe in black. Her slender tanned legs stepped on the pile carpet with black kitten heels. Her emerald eyes danced about like fireworks and she wore a smile that she couldn’t conceal even if she tried.
Glen surveyed his daughter with a curious eye, as it was obvious to him that she was itching to give him some good news. The animated expression on her face enchanted him, and he found himself lost in a flood of memories of her childhood days.
He recalled Millie’s wonderment when they had released a full bunch of rainbow coloured balloons into the air at the bayside. She had watched those balloons until they had disappeared from sight, and all the while he had watched her until her eyes widened and glistened with tears, and had turned to him with the devastation of a five year old – “But who will love them now, Daddy?”
The sound of Millie clearing her throat broke through his daydream as she watched her father with puzzlement. He recovered swiftly. “Funeral?” he teased with a grin. It was rare for his daughter to relax enough in his presence to evoke such joy, such excitement; their relationship had remained strained since she had dug up that box from under the avocado tree all those years ago.
Her russet hair cascaded over the black chiffon blouse she wore, falling almost to her waist when she threw her head back in laughter. “Very funny Dad, but much more exciting,” she said.
“Oh, what could be more exciting, I wonder?” He jested with Arella beside him. “Do you know Rella-Bella?” he said, pulling a face.
“Nope,” Arella replied.
Both sets of eyes turned towards Millie as they awaited the promised exciting news. Millie took a deep breath and began to spill the news she was bursting to share. “A man from New York came into the gallery a few days ago on my day off; apparently he has very influential connections in the art world all over the globe.” The pitch of her voice grew, while arms gestured widely to encircle the world in her announcement. Coffee spilled from the mug in her hand. “He fell in love with my dusky bay painting; you know the one with the lights reflecting over the water?”
“Oh, I love that one mummy!” Arella’s little bottom squirmed as she knew instantly how it would finish.
“He has offered a lot of money for my painting, but he is insisting on meeting the artist – moi – before he buys.” Her eyes brightened. “He is coming in today!”
“Oh Millie-pie!” Glen hugged her. “I am so very happy for you.”
“Thank you, Dad,” she replied.
Glen’s eyes clouded over for a moment as he watched Millie gather her handbag to leave for the gallery. He recalled his answer on bent knees to a five-year-old Millie who had watched those balloons disappear. “Love never fades, Millie-pie. They will carry your love with them just as you carry my love with you.” He rested the palm of his hand on her heart. “Right here.”
***
The mid-afternoon sun burned fiercely when Glen and Arella strolled into the house. They had gone to see Home Alone 3, and by the time they reached the porch, both agreed the movie had not been as good as the first two in the series that had starred a different main character.
“Macaulay Culkin was just that bit smarter,” Glen remarked. “Too smart for his own good I think,” he chuckled.
Arella raced into the house in search of the uncle she hadn’t seen for some time. “Uncle Ace!” she called as she skipped towards the kitchen, helium inflated balloons trailing behind her. “Uncle Ace, there you are!” she said as she spotted him eating an afternoon breakfast.
Ace swivelled around and grinned as she flew into his outstretched arms and snuggled into the envelope of his scent.
Arella gazed up at him and frowned. “Uncle Ace, you’ve changed.
And you haven’t come to see me for ages and ages!” she scoffed.
“I know, buttercup. I’m sorry.” Lips swept against the tip of her pudgy nose. “Will you forgive me?”
She nodded. “Yes!”
Arella began to tell him about her day out with her grandfather. She talked so fast that she hardly seemed to draw breath. Ace and Glen listened intently and spoke only when she paused long enough for them to get a word in. Ace made her a honey sandwich and finally told her that he needed to prepare for work.
Arella’s face drooped as she looked down into the plate Ace had just placed before her. “Will you come and see me soon, Uncle Ace?”
“Sure.” His smile was forced.
He reached out to stroke her dark curls as he attempted to change the subject. “Did you know that girls have more tastebuds than boys?”
Arella shook her head and looked at him wide eyed.
“So, that means this honey sandwich would taste so much better for you than it would for me.” Ace smiled down at her with raised eyebrows. “Better eat up, buttercup.”
Ace made for the door but stopped short when he heard his niece talking to him.
“I know you are not feeling well,” she said. “I know you are not well at all, Uncle Ace.”
The words did not match the girlish tone in which they were delivered. Her eyes glazed over as they met his. “I wish it wasn’t so. It’s not your fault. It’s the dark cloud that hovers over you sometimes.” She turned her eyes towards her grandfather who sat across the table from her. “And you too, Grandpa.”
“Arella? Are you okay, buttercup?” Ace laughed nervously. She appeared to see right into his soul.