by KT Grant
Thank God she trusts me now.
Bridgette watched Deborah's awestruck face as she viewed the fireworks. Before she could stare up at the display in the sky, she was jostled roughly from behind. Their hands broke apart and Bridgette turned to see who had rudely bumped into her.
“Sorry.” An older, severely dressed woman passed her, again pushing into her shoulder as she quickly rushed by.
Bridgette frowned and shook her head.
“What's wrong?” Deborah asked, completely oblivious to what had just happened.
“Nothing important.” Bridgette took hold of Deborah's hand again. “Hey, it's getting a bit too crowded and I think I've overdosed on enough funnel cake and frozen yogurt to last the summer. What do you say about going back home and relaxing?”
Deborah's lips twitched. “Want to relax in my bedroom with me?”
Bridgette laughed. “Didn't we do that already?”
“Let's do it again.” Deborah squeezed her hand.
“I'd rather relax with you in that big bathtub of yours.” Bridgette bumped her hip against Deborah's. “We can reenact one of the bathing scenes as Pauline and Juliet from Heavenly Creatures.”
“Heavenly what?” Deborah asked, wiggling her nose.
“Don't tell you haven't heard of Heavenly Creatures. That was one of the first movies Kate Winslet acted in.” Bridgette cocked her hip. “You do know who Kate Winslet is?”
Deborah rolled her eyes and jabbed her lightly with her elbow. “Yes. I know who she is.”
Bridgette linked her arm with Deborah's. “I'll give you the rundown of the movie on our drive back. I think Peter Jackson had a bathing fetish because of that movie.”
“Is he an actor in the movie?” Deborah asked.
“Oh Debs, you crack me up.” Bridgette chuckled, and as they reached her car, she backed Deborah against the passenger side door and ravished her mouth. Deborah moaned and joined in on the kiss, her hands going under Bridgette's top and caressing her back and lower until she cupped her ass cheeks. Surrounded by the bright lights of the carnival and the happy cries from the crowd, they made out, not caring if anyone came upon them and witnessed the affection for one another that had grown into something deeper and real.
* * * *
Deborah couldn't stop kissing Bridgette. It had to be the leftover sugar on Bridgette's lips from the funnel cake they shared earlier in the night. On the drive home they kissed at red lights and stop signs, finally parking in Bridgette's driveway, where they steamed up the windows, and not because of the humidity or the heat in the air. It was actually very pleasant, since the heat wave broke earlier in the week, and perfect for a bubble bath with the woman she couldn't get enough of.
“I have freesia-scented bubble bath and a bottle of champagne. Why don't you get the bath ready and I'll grab the bottle and be back before you know it?” Bridgette walked Deborah up to her front porch and they kissed some more. Deborah was ready to push her down in one of the rocking chairs in the corner and go down on her, but stopped herself.
“I'd like that,” Deborah said softly against Bridgette's cheek and gave her a hug. She hid her face in Bridgette's curls for a moment, inhaling her sweet floral scent.
“You left your butterfly in my car. I'll bring it over as well. It'll look right at home on your bed.” Bridgette winked and gave her another kiss.
Deborah finally released her and unlocked her door. “I'll keep the door unlocked. Hurry back.”
“You can bet on it. See you in a few minutes.” Bridgette winked and waved as she walked down the steps.
The screen door closed behind her and Deborah made certain the front door was slightly ajar for when Bridgette returned. Deborah hummed softly as she turned on a lamp to cast a soft glow in the living room, then ran up the steps to get ready for what would be an end to a wonderful night.
* * * *
Wearing her short pink pajama set, Deborah lit candles around the bathroom. She rubbed her hands together in excitement over sharing a bath with Bridgette. She'd never done such a thing with another woman and couldn't wait to make a new memory for herself that would have her smiling, not frowning. Pushing the door open to allow the breeze from the circular fan from her bedroom, she went over to her windows and opened them higher. The night was cool for mid-July, and the only sweat she and Bridgette would have on their skin would be from making passionate love together.
Deborah recognized Rotquel's barking from across the street. She viewed Bridgette's house, seeing the light on in the front of her house, as well as a light coming from inside. Soon Bridgette would be in her arms again, where she'd taste her lips and other luscious parts on her body that had her salivating.
Tapping her chin, she remembered the bottle of body lotion in the linen closet. Her nipples grew hard at the thought of giving Bridgette a nice intimate massage that would lead to a special type of happy ending for her.
Rotquel's barks trailed her as she walked out into the hallway. She must be really excited to see Bridgette. Shrugging, she went over to the closet just as the stairway down below went dark.
What the— Deborah groaned. The light must have burned out. Not wanting Bridgette to stumble around in the dark, she made her way over to the landing.
Grumbling under her breath that there was no light switch to turn on and give her light, she carefully walked down the stairs, wishing the moon was brighter so she wouldn't trip and fall and break her—
Un dì, felice, eterea, Mi balenaste innante, E da quel dì tremante, Vissi d'ignoto amor…
Deborah held the wall for support. Her stomach rolled as the opera played softly from somewhere inside. There was no way that could be possible, since she didn't have a stereo or a radio in the house. She backed up one step when she noticed the front door was fully closed and a shadow of a person stood in front of it.
Nonononono! Deborah whimpered, her heart beating rapidly in her chest as she swallowed and stepped down. If she went back upstairs, she wouldn't be able to escape.
As she grew accustomed to the darkness and moved around the banister, a cocking sound met her ears. “If you move one more inch, I'll shoot you in the leg. I can promise you it won't be pleasant.”
Deborah almost fell to the floor upon hearing the voice that had haunted her, and dug her fingers into the wooden banister. The opera continued to play softly, then went off with a click, only to be replaced by live singing in English.
“Since that moment I loved you, loved and adored from afar. Hoping for love, love that fills the universe, Sorrow, sorrow, sorrow, sorrow…” Genevieve's voice finished signing the melody and Deborah blinked from the small light that appeared in front of her.
Genevieve held a lighter under her chin, casting a ghostlike glow around her face. Deborah's hands shook as she wrapped her arms around her waist and silent shudders overtook her body.
“You found me.” Deborah mouthed and tears fell down her cheeks as she took a step back.
“Stop moving!” Genevieve screeched and moved forward, holding the gun in one hand while keeping the lighter on with the other.
Deborah halted and took in deep breaths to calm herself. The air was suddenly thick and fear clogged her throat. She backed up against the wall near the steps as Genevieve closed the lighter and turned the lamp on. When she faced her again, Deborah covered her mouth in utter shock.
Genevieve's hair was pulled back in a tight bun and colored with gray. She also wore glasses and a large flowered dress. Her face was covered in heavy makeup. Deborah's stomach cramped again as she came to the realization that Genevieve wore a disguise.
“You were the woman who bumped into Bridgette at the carnival,” Deborah said. When Bridgette had been jostled, she'd turned away from the fireworks display a moment and caught sight of a matronly woman wearing a garish dress passing them. The same dress Genevieve wore now.
Genevieve chuckled and pulled off the wig and the glasses. She threw them over near a bag sitting next to the front door. �
��I can wear a disguise also, Wade.” Deborah's ears began to ring at the name of one of her aliases.
She shook her head to stop the sound and stiffened when Genevieve moved in closer. Deborah moved to the left and away from the wall. She lifted her hands up at Genevieve in supplication.
“I know you're furious with me, but I had to do it. I couldn't live with you anymore. I was afraid—”
“Afraid?” Genevieve's arm shook as she swung the gun back up at her. “You don't know what true fear is. But you will when I get through with you.”
Deborah closed her eyes for a short moment. She released a shaky breath. “You won't get away with killing me.”
Genevieve cackled. Deborah's eyes shot open. “Kill you? Oh no, my dearling. I'm not going to kill you right away. First I'm going to punish you for making me look like a fool. We're going on a little trip together, where we'll get reacquainted.”
Genevieve's lips lifted and Deborah licked her own as she noticed how raw and chapped they looked, as if Genevieve had been chewing on them.
“I'm not going anywhere with you. Go ahead and shoot me here because there's no way in hell I'm leaving with you, knowing you want to torture me.”
“My dearling has finally grown a set of balls!”
“Stop calling me that!” Deborah yelled.
“How dare you speak to me that way, you faithless, lying cunt?” Genevieve whispered and dug the barrel of the gun into the middle of Deborah's forehead. Deborah went still and something wet dripped down the inside of her legs.
Genevieve's smile grew soft as she took a step close. Deborah backed up until she was near the edge of the couch.
“Please don't—”
“Please don't,” Genevieve said in a squeaky voice and snorted. “That's what your lover said to me as I bashed her over the head with my gun.”
Deborah clenched her hands into tight fists. Bridgette!
“If you hurt Bridgette—”
“Shut the fuck up! I don't want to hear her name coming from your dishonest mouth, darling wife,” Genevieve growled and dug the gun further into her forehead.
Deborah bit her lip. She hoped to God Genevieve hadn't killed Bridgette in her rage. Maybe that was why Rotquel had been barking.
“Pay attention to me, twat!” Genevieve shouted, her arm trembling violently.
“Yes, Genevieve. I'm sorry,” Deborah said in the pacifying way she'd used most of the time during their marriage.
Genevieve seemed to calm down, but kept the gun against her forehead. “You will leave this house with me right now. If you even try to fight me, I'll shoot you. My gun has a silencer, so your neighbors won't run to your rescue. If you behave, perhaps I won't kill the chunky redhead.”
Deborah bit down so hard on her lip that it drew blood. “I'll do what you want. Just don't hurt anyone else.”
She flinched when Genevieve cupped her cheek. The gun lowered and sweat dripped down the side of Deborah's face as Genevieve held her in an embrace.
“I love you so much, but you betrayed me. Maybe I can forgive you after you're punished. Then we can go on before, perhaps to Europe and start a new life there,” Genevieve whispered in her ear.
Deborah nodded stiffly and moved her arm where she bumped the lamp on top of the side table.
Moving back, Genevieve cupped her face with both hands, the gun resting on her shoulder. She smiled at her with undisguised love, her eyes bright with tears. “Tell me you love me.”
The words came easily, the lies flowing from her lips. “I love you so very much, Genevieve.”
“That's my darling girl.” Genevieve grimaced as she fingered Deborah's hair. But then her face grew soft and she placed her lips against hers.
Deborah wrapped her hand around the top of the lamp and sighed against Genevieve's mouth. When Genevieve's tongue licked at the seam of her lips, she opened her mouth slightly. “I'm sorry, Gen.”
The moment Genevieve's tongue slipped in her mouth, Deborah bit down hard and lifted the lamp, sending it crashing down on Genevieve's back. She shoved her away and turned, sliding across the floor as she ran toward the kitchen. Genevieve's cry bellowed around her and she covered her head when a soft whistle went off and the plaster in the wall next to her exploded.
Deborah rushed past the kitchen table, and had just reached the counter when she was pulled back roughly by her hair. Her scalp burned as fingers dug into her head.
“Slut!” Genevieve shouted and smacked her cheek with the gun.
Deborah yelled and went down, going blind. Her cheek throbbed like a million needles jabbing into her face. She lay there stunned, her jaw going numb as she was pulled back up and shook hard.
Another slap came out of nowhere across her face and she whimpered, her legs folding underneath her as a band of fingers dug into her arms, nails scratching violently. She tried to struggle as hands tugged at her, pulling her up. The ringing in her ears increased and she almost vomited. A squeak left her mouth when she was roughly pushed against the refrigerator and Genevieve squeezed her throat.
“You'll pay for that, you bitch!” Genevieve shouted and clenched her hand tighter around her windpipe, cutting off her air.
Deborah swung her fists at Genevieve's face and chest, anything to get her to release her. Her heart pumped fast and a cold sweat covered her back. She could barely stay conscious as Genevieve strangled harder, her pointed nails cutting into her skin, killing her slowly—
A loud crash sounded and she was swung around, her back pressed up against Genevieve's front as the gun pushed against her temple.
“Drop the gun now!” a man's voice rang out from the entrance of the kitchen.
Deborah blinked rapidly, trying to bring her vision back into focus. The room had become blurry and dark.
“Fuck off! She's mine and no one is going to take her from me,” Genevieve screeched loudly and backed away.
Deborah's feet scraped across the kitchen floor as she was pulled toward the counter. The shrill sounds of sirens came from a distance, overriding the ringing in her ears.
“Put down the gun. Don't make me shoot you,” the voice ordered and Deborah reached out a hand, mouthing wordlessly for him to save her.
“You think I'm that stupid?” Genevieve said, and the gun against Deborah's temple dug in even more. “You'll shoot me and take Deborah away from me. She's mine!”
Deborah pulled at Genevieve's arm, dragging in deep breaths through her abused throat. She whimpered when Gen's hold grew tighter.
“Shush, dearling. Soon it will be all over and we'll be together forever.” Genevieve kissed her wetly on the cheek and cocked her gun.
“No,” Deborah bleated and coughed. New voices ordered Genevieve to release her and drop the gun.
I don't want to die! Deborah could barely stop the darkness as it rushed over her. No! Must stay awake!
Genevieve mumbled nonsense in her ear and began to cry. Deborah had lost her voice and could only whisper, begging Gen to release her. She continued crying softly, then the gun came around and tucked under her chin.
Deborah needed to do something quickly before Genevieve blew her head off. Her hand swung out and it landed against something hard. She searched around and found the carving knife she'd left to dry in the strainer. She was able to get a tight hold around it without Genevieve noticing.
“Together forever, even in death,” Genevieve hoarsely whispered, and when her arm came down to wrap around her waist, that was when Deborah struck.
Voices rang out as she twisted and pushed Genevieve away as hard as she could. Time seemed to slow down as Genevieve stumbled and aimed the gun. Deborah tried to go for Genevieve's stomach, but she couldn't get a good enough aim and slashed the knife against Genevieve's face, cutting into her flesh and dragging the knife sideways.
A loud screech left Genevieve's mouth as she clutched her throat. She still held the gun, and as Deborah dropped to the ground and crawled away, shots rang out. A body fell on top of her as sh
e hid her face against the linoleum.
Then there was silence, until something heavy fell in front of her. Deborah lifted up and cried out as Genevieve lay quiet on her side, her eyes open but empty as she stared at nothing. Blood dripped down her face and front onto the kitchen floor.
“Genevieve!” Deborah cried out and tried to get to her knees when arms came around her.
“It's all right now. She'll never hurt you again.” The man's voice, a familiar one she had heard before, pulled her away as uniformed officers rushed into the room.
“She's dead,” Deborah sobbed, nearly hysterical as Bryan dragged her away.
“We need you to get checked out. You're bleeding and cut up,” he said calmly, and when she turned in his arms, away from her dead wife, she grabbed hold of him tightly, suddenly remembering Bridgette.
“Bridgette!” she called out.
Bryan kept an arm around her as he helped her outside. Bright red and blue lights and too many cars to count were parked in front of her house. People across the street watched. She glanced around for any sign of Bridgette.
“She's been taken to the hospital. You'll go there to get checked out and have your statement taken.”
“She's alive?” Deborah's knees shook and would have fallen if not for Bryan's hold.
Bryan's mouth went into a tight line. “She's alive, but with head trauma.”
“I want to see her,” Deborah said in a hoarse whisper. Her stomach cramped and her head pounded. She bent over, suddenly nauseated, the need to throw up too strong to ignore.
“You will. But first we need to take care of you,” Bryan said in a kinder voice.
As she was handed over to an EMT, Deborah vomited. And continued until she was too weak to stand. She soon ended up in the back of an ambulance, lying on a stretcher as a woman asked her questions and cleaned her cuts on her face and arms.
The sounds of the sirens and the ambulance moving helped her drift away, numb and broken, knowing she was the reason a woman was dead and another she'd come to care for could possibly be fighting for her own life.