by JT Harding
Kim stared at the oven, a small frown troubling her brow. She wanted to make something for after dinner. Pancakes, maybe? Yeah, pancakes sounded good. She had seen a big cast iron griddle that went over the gas ring somewhere and she searched through the cabinets until she found it, struggling to lift it down, gripping the handles on both sides, the round metal circle thick and heavy. She laid it carefully on the worktop and mixed up some batter, lay a cover over and left it to stand.
She sat cross legged on the floor in front of Ami and when the child reached out to her gripped her fists and pulled her to her feet. Ami grinned as though she had accomplished the cleverest trick in the world. She had been making a lot of noises lately, meaningless grunts and cries, and even though Kim knew it was way too early she liked to think Ami was trying to communicate.
She pulled over a small pile of blocks, each one three inches on a side, each face showing a different letter of the alphabet alternating with an animal starting with the letter. The one she held had G printed large on one face, smaller on the remaining three, together with a drawing of a Giraffe, a Goat and a Gorilla. Kim held the block inside her hands, Ami waiting with anticipation because she knew this game. It didn’t matter how many times they played, the unmasking always came as a complete surprise to the infant.
Kim moved her hands closer and Ami wriggled in anticipation.
“Gorilla!” Kim said quickly, revealing the silverback. Ami squealed loudly, laughing so hard she tumbled backwards and bumped her head on the floor. The laughter turned instantly to tears, ending almost as quickly as Kim righted her and unmasked… Giraffe!
She didn’t hear the back door open, the one facing away from the sea, the one they never used and always forgot to lock. Only when Ami looked up past her did she realize someone had entered the kitchen. She span around on the slick floor to discover Jenni’s husband standing in the doorway.
***
The bitch sat on the floor, not even aware he had entered the room until the brat gave him away. Mark watched her turn and start to rise to her feet. Her tits spilled from her open shirt as she leaned over and Mark watched them, sudden arousal taking him by surprise. Maybe dispatching her could wait a minute or two.
“What do you want?” she asked.
Mark grinned. “Put the baby somewhere.”
“What are you doing here!” Kim put herself between him and the child.
“Nothing. To her. Put her away, now, before I change my mind.”
“No.” Kim paled, but her face set in a determined frown.
Mark leaned against the worktop, running his hand across the smooth wood. This was one nice house. He wondered how much a place like this cost to rent. More than he made in a month, he bet.
“I don’t think you understand.” He spoke as though she was the child. “If you don’t put her away, I’ll do her first and make you watch. Now, put the fucking baby somewhere and shut the fuck up.” He was suddenly breathing hard and made an effort to calm himself. She only needed to do as he asked and this would go easier on all of them.
“You have to promise you won’t touch her.”
“I promise,” Mark said. If Kim knew him better she would have realized he never kept his word, but he saw the fear for her baby overarching everything in her mind. She leaned over and picked Ami up. The infant started crying, not knowing what was happening, but responding to the atmosphere in the room. Kim carried her past Mark and put a foot on the stair.
“Not upstairs,” Mark said.
“Her cot’s upstairs.” Kim took the second step, then the third.
Mark watched her go. His hand moved, barely aware he was picking up the long Sabatier from the wooden block before he followed.
***
Kim expected him to pull her back but she reached the landing, laid Ami in her cot in the back room. She turned quickly, intending to climb out on the balcony and see if she could jump down to the beach, but Mark had followed her closely, bringing the long Sabatier with him, ten inches of gleaming steel. Kim recalled Joe sharpening the blade only that morning. Why did he have to love those damn knives so much?
“Thinking of going somewhere?” Mark asked.
Kim shook her head, afraid now, more afraid than she had been downstairs. It was different up here, their territory, her and Joe’s, the sense of invasion stronger.
Mark looked beyond her, through the doorway into the bedroom. He nodded at the door. “In there.”
Kim backed away and he followed, the knife held loose at his side.
Mark kicked the door closed behind him and Kim came to a halt with her legs against the foot of the bed.
“Strip.”
“What?”
“Take ‘em all off. Not that you got much to take off, but I want it all off. Now!”
“Fuck you.”
He closed the gap in an instant, the wicked blade coming up and resting against her cheek. “There’s something you need to understand here sweetheart. I’m the one in charge, and what I say goes. So strip.”
Kim knew she was crying but was incapable of stopping. Mark stepped away, not far enough to allow her any chance of escape but far enough she couldn’t reach him. Kim pulled her open shirt off and let it drop to the floor. Mark’s eyes tracked down her body, came back up as she reached around and pulled the tie on her bikini top. She dropped it next to her blouse.
Mark waved the knife. “Those too, honey.”
Kim bit her lip and bent over, stripping her bikini briefs down, stood naked in front of him.
“Fuckin’ slut,” he said, staring at her shaved pussy. He started to fumble with his jeans. He was unable to undo them one handed so shuffled across to the dressing table and put the knife down. He caught Kim’s glance and shook his head. “You can try if you like. Make it a little more fun. Come on, darlin’, give it a try...”
Now his hands were free he unhooked his belt and tugged at the zip of his jeans. He pulled them down, then his shorts and stood with his erection jutting out.
“You wanna come lie down and deal with this first? Before we conclude our piece of business?”
“Why would I do that? If you’re going to kill me do it, but I’d rather burn in hell than have you anywhere near me.”
Mark shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He picked up the knife again. He shuffled across, looking ridiculous with his jeans around his ankles, and if not for the gleaming knife Kim would have laughed.
As Mark reached her Kim moved backward away from him. The bed caught behind her knees and she swayed. Mark reached for her breast and she leaned back further, suddenly falling onto the bed. Mark landed on top of her, forcing air from her lungs, and for a moment she didn’t know if he had used the knife or not, then she saw it beside her on the bed. Mark tried to force her knees apart, his stupid tiny prick pressing against her. He stank of bourbon and cigarettes and stale sweat and automotive grease, and Kim felt something break loose inside and kicked up between his legs, her knee finding a target. Mark grunted but stayed on top of her. He lifted the knife and lay it cold against her neck, its razor edge touching her skin, and she felt a welling of blood.
“Now, we can do this with you moving or not, sweetheart. So which is it going to be?”
Kim wanted to spit in his face, stopped herself. He meant it. He was too far gone to care whether he fucked her alive or dead, and alive she would maybe get another chance. She turned her head to one side as he tried to kiss her, pulling the knife away, but he wasn’t gentle and Kim felt it slice into her flesh once again and more blood flowed. Great, she thought, now he kills me by accident.
“Open wide,” Mark said, and Kim parted her knees and let him drop down between her legs.
“Come on. At least it’s not going to take long.”
Mark chuckled. “Feisty, ain’t we?” He probed around, trying to find her entrance. “We’ll see how feisty you are in a minute, sweet tits. I bet you like this, don’t you? Like a real man for a change. Okay, sweetheart, let’s see how y
ou like these apples.”
Kim knew when he found her entrance at last. She squeezed her eyes tight shut, tried to ignore the wail coming from Ami’s room. Mark didn’t seem to hear it at all, but Kim’s instinct responded to the cries of her daughter and her nipples spurted milk, sudden and automatic.
“Oh fuck, that’s gross!” Mark groaned and pulled away. “Shit no, what the fuck are you doing?”
“Nothing. This is natural, but you wouldn’t recognize natural would you.”
“Oh fuck,” Mark said again. He was sitting back from her, still hard, his face a mask of disgust. He shook his head. “No way, man. No way.”
Kim saw his face change, going from disgust to something dreamy. He picked up the knife and laid it against his own cheek and smiled.
“Ah well, guess I’ll have to fuck Jenni instead.”
He leaned forward, bringing the knife around just as the bedroom door flew open and Joe said, “Get off her, cunt.”
Mark swung around, the knife catching Kim under her left breast and opening the skin. Mark laughed. “Come on in and watch, faggot, see how a real man works.”
“Okay,” Joe said, and closed the five paces between the door and the bed, moving fast and without hesitation. He grabbed Mark by his hair and tugged his head back. Beyond him Kim saw Jenni enter the bedroom, holding another knife, one of the smaller ones.
Joe pulled harder and Mark screamed. Joe punched him on the ribcage and then stopped, making an odd grunting sound.
Kim looked down and screamed. The Sabatier was embedded in Joe’s shoulder, in the soft part just below his clavicle, embedded deeply and blood was starting to well around the blade.
Mark laughed. “Fuck you.”
Joe staggered back as Mark stood, bending over and pulling his jeans up, his eyes never leaving Jenni.
“I hope he was worth it,” he sneered.
“He is,” Jenni said. “And so is Kim.”
Mark snarled and lunged at her but Jenni darted to one side, the knife held in front of her. Mark might be drunk but he was judging the situation as well as anyone. He glared at all three of them, looked in satisfaction as Joe leaned against the wall and began to slide down it. Mark darted out through the door.
Kim rushed across to Joe and put her hand beside the knife lodged in his flesh.
“I’m okay,” Joe said between gritted teeth. “Hurts like all hell, but I’ll live. Go after him, Kim,” he said.
Kim hesitated, looking into his face, turned and nodded at Jenni. “Come on, let’s finish this.”
Jenni nodded back and followed her, leaving wet footprints beside Joe’s on the dry wooden floor. Kim didn’t glance back or she would have seen Joe’s head rock as the world span around him and he sank sideways onto the floor.
***
Kim’s stomach turned over as Ami’s cries escalated to an all out wail. She dashed downstairs where the noise was coming from and into the kitchen. Mark was standing in the middle of the floor. He had found another knife. For God’s sake, Kim thought, why does this house have so many fucking knives? Ami dangled loosely from Mark’s hand, his fingers gripping her around the arm. She screamed constantly, the sound filling the room, cutting into Kim’s head.
Jenni passed her, going straight for Mark, her smaller knife extended.
“Put the baby down!”
Mark grinned. “Gonna make me, sweetheart?”
“If I have to.”
Mark nodded. “Maybe I’d like that. Show me a little emotion for once. Come on then.” He waved the knife at her.
Mark’s eyes were locked on Jenni, on the knife she held in front of her. It was such an obviously uneven contest there could only be one victor, and both Jenni and Mark knew it, but Kim realized Jenni didn’t care. She was ready and willing to lay her life down for them. She advanced on Mark.
Ignored, Kim moved to one side and reached out blindly on the worktop. Her hand closed around the handle of the heavy skillet she had put out for pancakes. She pulled it closer, added a second hand. The skillet was large, forged from cast-iron and she needed both hands to lift it.
Mark let go of Ami, tossing her aside like an empty beer can. She hit the floor and skidded, stopped when she came up against the leg of the table. She lay on her side, face crimson, her cries scorching the air.
Jenni advanced more quickly toward Mark.
“No!” Kim shouted, stopping Jenni in her tracks.
Mark turned to her, suddenly aware a second woman was in the room, the one he had dismissed as harmless. Kim swung the skillet two handed, momentum building in her. It was too heavy for her, but she found strength from somewhere and Mark turned fully toward her, not believing what he saw. He started to lift his hand holding the knife just as the skillet caught him square between the eyes. The thwack of cast iron on bone for a moment overwhelmed even Ami’s screams. There was a hush. Kim heard the knife drop from Mark’s fingers and clatter on the floor. A second later Mark’s body thumped dully on the wood. He lay still. No blood flowed but a dark bruise spread instantly between his eyes. Both women watched as his legs spasmed once and fell still.
Kim realized she was standing completely naked, the skillet still in her hand. She dropped it and went across to Ami, picked her up and comforted her. Jenni knelt beside Mark, placed her fingers against his neck. Kim watched as she moved her fingers, searching for a pulse.
“Have I...” Kim failed to finish the sentence.
“He’s dead,” Jenni said, confirming the obvious.
“What am I... Oh my God, Jenni, what am I going to do?”
Jenni sat back on her heels and looked at Kim. “Nothing. You’re going to look after Kim and Joe. I’ll take care of this.”
“Take care of what?” They both turned at Joe’s strained voice. He swayed and leaned against the door and Kim went to him, took his arm and led him to a chair. He sat heavily and then stared at Mark’s body as though it was not registering on him.
“I killed him,” Kim said matter of factly, kneeling in front of her husband. Jenni came across and took Ami from her, continued the comforting and slowly the infant stopped screaming and subsided into hitching sobs.
Kim looked at the body, not really taking in what had happened.
“You have to take this knife out of me,” Joe said.
“We’ve got to take you to the hospital.”
Joe shook his head. “What about him?”
“I think the hospital’s too late for him,” Kim said.
“We can’t go to the emergency room,” Jenni said. “They’re going to want to know how Joe got a knife in his chest, and then they’ll want to know everything, and they’ll find out about Mark and...and…” She started crying and Ami, sensing her pain, decided to join in.
“Ah, fuck it!” Joe said. He gripped the black wooden handle of the knife and pulled hard. “Shit!” He screamed, but the blade came free and the knife dropped from his fingers. Fresh blood welled up and ran down his chest. A lot of blood.
“Towels,” Jenni said, taking control, and Kim ran to the sink and brought back drying cloths and hand towels. She pressed hard against Joe’s wound, trying to stem the outpouring.
Jenni placed Ami back on the floor, ignoring her renewed cries, and went to the freezer. She cracked ice and poured it into a plastic bag, brought it back and pressed it against Joe, who groaned loudly. Blood now covered half his chest and was running down over his belly. It dripped from his thighs to the floor.
“I think I’ve ruined these speedos,” he said, in a perfectly rational voice.
“How much blood is that?” Kim asked, her eyes wide as she took in the widening pool.
“Not enough to kill him. Not yet,” Jenni said. She lifted the towels from Joe and peered beneath. “Get more, Kim.”
Kim went to the laundry room and brought back the big white towels Jenni had fetched that morning, still wrapped in plastic. She split them and ran water over each towel in the sink, took them back and Jenni tossed the soake
d ones aside and pressed the new towels against Joe’s wound. As Jenni revealed the gash, Kim watched in horror as fresh blood gathered and ran out.
“It’s okay. I think it’s stopping,” Jenni said. “What about you?”
Kim glanced down at herself, aware for the first time that blood streaked her belly from the cut beneath her breast. The wound had stopped bleeding, the blood drying.
“I’m fine. But we’ve got to take Joe to the ER.”
“Not yet. Give it five minutes. If he’s no better we’ll take him, but remember, Kim, it was me hit Mark, not you.”
Kim shook her head. “No. I hit him.” Her mind was confused, but she recalled that clearly.
“You didn’t. Did you see her hit him, Joe?”
“I didn’t see anything,” Joe said.
“You did. You saw me hit Mark with the skillet,” Jenni said firmly.
“Fuck, it hurts,” Joe said.
“Good,” Jenni said. “That means you’re alive.”
“Ha ha ha,” Joe said, slowly and deliberately.
Jenni pulled the towel away from his shoulder. Kim felt relief flood her. The bleeding was definitely slowing, the towel not completely soaked like the first had been. Jenni leaned forward to examine the wound, watching fresh blood well up and run down Joe’s chest. She nodded as though satisfied.
“He’s still bleeding,” Kim said. “I’m calling an ambulance.”
“No!” Both Jenni and Joe spoke together. Jenni said. “Have you got a first aid kit?”
“First aid kit?” Kim said, not sure a first aid kit was enough for this. “We brought Ami with us. Fuck, Jen, we got enough medical supplies to service a small war.” She turned away and came back after a minute with a large plastic box.
Jenni rummaged through the contents, pulled out gauze and padding and wide strips of plaster. She lifted the towel from Joe again.
“Okay, this is going to hurt some,” she said.