by Lee Alan
“Lemon cheesecake,” she declared to no one, plopping the mug down and spilling brown liquid over her clean table.
Julia mentally ticked off the stages of her dastardly mission, and then put the plan into action. She opened the pantry and brought out her favorite Momma cake tin, named after the special lady who’d spent many a happy hour teaching her to bake. She smiled, because it was a sunny Saturday morning—the kind that washed away black thoughts, leaving a clear path to the future. Perfect for making the ultimate, badass cake.
She removed heavy cream from the fridge, and then dug out the extra large mixing bowl from the pantry, not wishing to stint on the effort. This would be all out food war and she would take no prisoners. To emphasize the point, she opened the lid off of the cream and dipped a finger into the surface before taking an indulgent taste.
“Yum.”
It brought back memories of doing the same with her ever present co–conspirator. It was a habit they’d started in their teens on the day she’d found Anna sobbing in the bathroom, because of another long forgotten asshole boyfriend. Without saying a word, she’d led her to the kitchen, where they’d baked chocolate rice crispy treats together. Julia still recalled her feelings of growing closeness as they’d sat and munched the still–hot, mushy treats. When finally stuffed beyond sensible limits, they’d laughed hysterically at their chocolate–smeared faces. It’d been the first time she’d felt a proper bond of trust. And it was the beginning of them both understanding the importance of their relationship together. Since then, they’d stuck to the same ritual: Julia would cook and listen, and Anna would talk. For years, the sisters had repeated the same unspoken rule, knowing instinctively that this was their special thing.
The time passed pleasantly, and she listened to old eighties songs while squeezing fresh lemons. She worked methodically with the kind of quiet competence that only someone who’d honed their craft for years could do with ease.
Creating the perfect cheesecake was all about finding the perfect balance between bitter and sweet—a trick she’d mastered long ago. The real challenge came from Anna having a sweeter tooth than her own.
I’ll go with sweet, she thought, hoping for a speedy and preferably lurid confession.
She turned the radio up, recognizing one of her all–time favorite tunes. The music began to pipe loudly into the fragrant room. In her element, Julia sang along to the chorus, dancing on the spot, while slicing a vanilla pod with a practiced hand.
The sound of the front door slamming suddenly broke her pleasant reverie. With a soaring heart, she realized that Anna must have returned home earlier than expected.
Even better, she thought.
Footsteps approached from behind. “Hey, kiddo. Guess what’s on the menu?” She shouted above the pumping chorus. There was no reply. Undeterred, Julia pressed on. “Who’s the dirty stop out, then, hmm?” She teased, giving another impromptu jig to the music.
“Hello, Julia,” a man’s voice said, causing the morning sun to drain from the room.
***
Just as Anna thought the station wagon would give up its struggle for good, the white, picket fence surrounding her sister’s little house rolled into view. Normally, a wave of anxiety would greet the familiar sound of the sputtering engine, while she contemplated the prospect of a future without transport. Now, the jerking contortions only brought a smile to her face, because a check for one million dollars lay inside her bag.
“One million dollars,” she tried the words on again for size. “One miiiillion dollars,” she repeated, this time doing a poor Doctor Evil impression.
Her day had started with the sensation of silk sheets lightly touching her skin, followed by sheer bliss. As her mind had risen further from the veil of sleep, she’d actually blushed when the details of the previous night flooded back. She felt no regret at those images, though—only joy. Suddenly, her future felt like an open road, rather than a dead end. Best of all, she’d found an incredible companion to start that journey with.
Anna wearily parked opposite the old cactus in the yard. Despite being bone–tired, her mind still raced with images from the previous night, thrilling her to the point of wondering if it would be possible to sleep again.
It wasn’t a dream, she reminded herself.
Parting company in the mundane setting of the college parking lot had seemed surreal. Where, less than twenty–four hours before, the adventure of her life had begun. Fearing discovery, they’d not dared to share a final kiss, and she’d been forced to stop her hand from reaching out to him, although her body craved for one last touch.
Corey had invited her to visit the Estate the next day, but she’d insisted that he come to Julia’s for Sunday lunch, instead. Instinctively, she knew that Big Bird would love Corey, and it felt important to seek approval from the one person whose opinion mattered most. She reflected with a note of guilt that her scandalous text hinting at spending the night with someone other than Jim would be driving Julia crazy with curiosity. And, she had no doubt that her sis would also be furious to learn how the congressman had turned out to be a manipulative dick. She also needed Big Bird to understand that Corey wasn’t a knee–jerk reaction to that disappointment: he was special. The sooner they met, the quicker she could prove it, and it would only take five minutes with her kind, gently–spoken man to settle any doubts.
“My man,” she said, loving the way she already thought of him as such.
She watched as a young boy rolled past on a pair of orange skates, grinning from ear to ear as he swished the boots to create momentum.
Bet you’d love the HELA, kid, Anna thought, feeling a kinship toward the carefree joy of the motion.
She turned the ignition key off, and the car made a sound like an audible groan, before it fell silent. Anna flung the creaking door open and gazed over at the house, expecting Julia to be at the window, peering through the curtains—especially because the station wagon sounded so embarrassingly loud. There was no tell–tale twitch today, though. Anna frowned.
“Please be home, Big Bird,” she murmured, stepping onto the curb.
The prospect of not sharing her incredible news immediately was almost too much to bear. She did recall, however, Julia saying that she’d be home all day and would in all likely–hood, be rustling up something tasty already. A sympathetic pang of hunger greeted the thought.
On the spur of the moment, Anna turned back to the old car and patted it affectionately, realizing that it would probably be the last time she would need to depend on its dubious mechanics. “I can buy a new car!” She exclaimed aloud, the enormity hitting her once again. “Shit, why not buy two?”
She contemplated the fun shopping trips ahead, while her hand remained on her soon to be ex–faithful friend. The sound of the swishing roller skates stopped, and Anna turned to see that the boy had stopped to watch her at the end of the street. He must’ve seen her wistful moment with the car, because he stared her way with an expression clearly reserved for crazies. She gave the kid a quick salute, and then headed toward the familiar, red door of the place she’d come to think of as home.
Halfway along the garden path, Anna stumbled, prompting her to take more care. Particularly because, on a whim, she’d earlier decided to throw on the gorgeous stilettoes from the previous evening, knowing they’d make a great way to mischievously grab her sister’s attention before unleashing both barrels of her super fantabulous gossip.
Anna paused in front of the door and took a deep breath, the anticipation threatening to turn her into a giggling girl. Play it coolio, kiddo, she thought, planning to reveal her cards with a slow relish.
She suspected that Julia may already be plotting to deploy every trick in the book to garner a juicy confession. Of course, she would oblige—but only after stringing out the special treatment for as long as possible. It would be wrong not to
.
Wait until she sees the cheque… She reached out for the front door handle. It turned easily and swung inward, unlocked.
Julia’s home!
The air felt cool against her bare arms as she entered the tidy little porch. The door clicked behind her, and she took a moment to bend and sniff the comforting aroma coming from the vase of fresh pansies that Big Bird always kept there to greet visitors. She noted with affection, that they’d not once been allowed to wither for a single day since her arrival.
Anna’s attention turned to the loud music drifting from the kitchen. Just as she’d hoped, the golden oldie radio station boomed out a former hit. It was a sure sign that another culinary masterpiece was underway. In truth, she’d never had the heart to tell Julia that she was a little too young to remember most of the tracks they’d jigged along to over the years. Not that it mattered.
What’s on the menu today, Miss Price? She wondered, tossing her keys onto the battered, old ashtray sitting on the hallway trestle table. Despite its shabby appearance, the heirloom represented a bygone time, making it unthinkable to part with.
She strode toward the source of the music, brimming with excitement. “Hi, Big…”
The kitchen stood empty. But strangely, she saw clear evidence of recent activity: Julia’s favorite mixing bowl had made a welcome appearance on the linoleum counter surface, surrounded by tasty–looking ingredients. Peering over its rim, she observed a mixture of broken biscuit and butter. The half–dozen squeezed lemons on a plate nearby provided the final evidence to be certain what the end result of the endeavor would be.
“Wow, you are playing dirty,” she grinned, taking a piece of the biscuit and munching away in the knowledge that the pilfered morsel would’ve earned a slapped wrist, if big sis had been present.
“Muhaha,” she added theatrically. “Guard your treasure more closely, my dear.”
The sound of crunching came from underfoot. Broken glass, she realized.
She hadn’t noticed it upon entering, but there it was, scattered over the normally–spotless dark, wooden floor. Puzzlement soon turned into a rising sense of foreboding when she took a closer look at her surroundings. Something appeared amiss with the usually–ordered state of Julia’s private kingdom. Utensils were scattered across the draining board, and several eggs had joined the glass on the floor by the sink.
“Hello?” She called out, a small tremor betraying her inner worry. Maybe she’s cut?
Anna darted back into the hall, toward the bedrooms, this time noticing that the sheepskin running down the center of the passage was askew. Something else caught her eye: a deep gouge running the length of the flower wallpaper, just above the rug.
What the… ? It almost looks like someone has raked… “Julia!” She shouted this time, her voice sounding shrill in her own head.
Only the sound of a bored DJ blasting from the radio replied. “This one is for all you love birds—we are going all the way back to nineteen fifty nine…” There was a pause then the sound of a needle running along vinyl.
She followed the path of the disturbance, eyes tracing the undulating pattern of the ugly indent, until it ended outside the doorway to Julia’s bedroom door. Suddenly, her limbs felt like lead, making the few dozen steps needed to cover the ground akin to walking through tar. At the rear of her mind, an urgent warning screamed at her to turn and leave.
Do not stop and collect two hundred dollars, Anna, just leave. LEAVE NOW.
But her instinct to help overwhelmed any sense of self–preservation. She wouldn’t abandon Julia—not for one second. Committed, her view fixed onto the doorframe, where a red thumbprint had been pressed against the white gloss.
It’s fine, it’s fine. Just a nick of the thumb, her mind protested, refusing to think the worst.
Ice–cold shards of fear stabbed down her spine while she examined every detail of the stain. It appeared to have been pushed hard onto the frame and then smeared. Time slowed while she tried to reason through a set of events leading to the grim signpost that didn’t involve tragedy.
Only one way to know for sure, Little Bird… Please, I don’t want to…
You must.
She reached out with a shaking hand and turned the knob, unable to pull her gaze away from the sight of the print.
She’ll be fine, you wait and s…
The door opened onto a vision from hell. There was blood, most of it drenching soft, linen bed sheets where a pale, naked figure lay still.
Then came the sound of screaming—a detached part of her noted that the sound came from her own lungs. The wailing rose and mixed with the sounds of the playing love song, while her heart broke into a thousand shards. How she wanted to join that separate part of her mind and soar away from the horror. A primeval force coming from within refused to release her.
YOU ARE IN DANGER! It cried, and, although impossible, the voice sounded like Julia’s.
But it was already too late. The presence of another person looming to her left touched the periphery of her vision. She turned just in time to see a fist heading directly at her. Way too late, sweetie.
A bloom of pain struck her forehead, followed by a bright wave of stars flooding her consciousness. Anna flew. At first, it came as a blessed relief, because it meant that the fight had been mercifully brief. No more fear. No more.
Her ribs struck the wooden floor, forcing air to whoosh from her body and leaving her gasping for breath. The ensuing panic tore away the dream state, and the sunny hallway swam into view once more with unforgiving clarity. She felt compelled to face her attacker, even while writhing against the polished slats like a fish ripped from the water and then tossed onto the bank to die.
Seeing just how old Tony looked shocked her almost as much as her desperate fight for oxygen. His face had a grey pallor, clinging to a skeletal frame so thin that he appeared like a wraith sent from the underworld. A red–rimmed gaze burned into her with an intensity she would have scarcely thought possible. His hair had been shaven to reveal a tightened skull, framing a widened mouth, filled with yellow teeth. He grimaced in devilish triumph. Nothing remained of the man she had once loved, only a creature of death bent on ending her and anything else she cared for.
He continued to stare at her, seeming to relish the moment. The brief respite finally allowed her to take two shuddering breaths. Tony closed his eyes for a second and swayed, while the crooning tune still played.
“Perfect,” he mouthed the words.
Silence followed, while they watched each other—he with hands slick with blood. Julia’s blood, she wailed inside, before the stone wall of her own predicament descended, cutting off another path to madness.
Reality stilled, while every atom of her being flooded her senses with adrenaline–pumped detail: the wetness on her forehead, the sound of her heaving lungs, and, the thumping rush of her pulse coursing through her arteries. She raised a shaking hand to her head and looked down at the red mark on her hand.
“She’s not dead, yet, Anna,” he said in rasping whisper. “I wanted to save such pleasures for you.” The rictus grin broadened.
Still alive… the words rolled over her like thunder.
Despair turned to hope and then fury. “No,” she murmured. After all I’ve been through, it comes to this? Letting him take away my hope again? No… I must be strong. Must help.
“No!” She screamed, rising unsteadily, and then plunging toward the kitchen.
From the corner of her eye, she saw him move with a terrifying fluidity. Anna tried to fling herself through the open door frame, but a vice–like grip wrapped around her throat from behind, while a second arm pinned her body to his chest. Hot, fetid breath washed over her cheek as the hand became ever tighter, constricting her airway with a deadly resolve. She responded with a vain attempt to claw his arm. But the chokehold only strengthened, for
cing the pressure against her wind pipe to build further. Little black dots formed at the corner of her vision, gathering together. She knew that allowing them to coalesce into a total darkness would seal her fate.
Her frantic gaze darted around the kitchen, searching for something, anything. She railed against the inexorable surge with all her being, but even her rage ebbed away under the relentless crush. Flashing lights began to dart among the black dots. Anna tried to harness the last vestiges of her will power, grasping for elusive wisps of a plan to halt the inevitable.
Julia! The name rallied her. Her own death paled at the thought of failing to help the one person who’d always been there for her.
The squeezing grew tighter.
What about Corey? She thought while images from the past weeks swam before her fleeting mind. She would never know what their future together would hold. That’s sad, she decided, as a tear rolled down her cheek.
The pain receded into a dull cloud. She reflected on her adventure the previous night, soaring in the night sky, wearing the most expensive dress money could buy.
Was it a dream? She wondered. No, it was real, Anna. Hell, I’m still wearing the shoes to prove it. She found this fact comforting at the end.
The stilettos.
The last word repeated in a soundless scream, echoing over and over.
In one final, lucid moment, she raised her right leg and brought the heel of the gold shoe down onto the bridge of Tony’s foot with the force of the damned. The long, slender point plunged into fleshy cartilage. Now it was his turn to scream. Immediately, she felt pressure lift from her neck, and blessed oxygen flooded back to her.
Anna’s system rebounded, lifting the veil of shadows. The kitchen snapped into focus and she plunged through the doorway, as if finding an exit from hell. She tumbled onto the floor among the remains of shattered glass. A thick shard pierced her elbow, making her yelp in agony. Perversely, the wound drove away the last shred of lethargy, and she scrambled to regain her footing. Still deprived of energy her legs gave way on the first attempt and, as she began to rise again, a heavy weight landed between her shoulder blades, squashing her frame against the floor, leaving her right arm trapped underneath. A calloused palm reached around her throat, once again.