Love. Lies. Dying.

by Carla Blake

  She wonders where the hell she is?

  Grabbing her suitcase, she goes upstairs, pleased to find her bedroom is pretty much as she left it. It’s just a shame the same can’t be said for Katherine’s, because in here the bed looks like its been slept on rather than in and her duvet is all mussed up, and why is her hairbrush on her pillow?

  Megan doesn’t get it and she shudders as a wire of disquiet winds its way around her spine and slowly tightens. Something is not right here, she breathes, and it’s not just the police.

  Katherine has been here. She is sure of it. She doesn’t know how or why or when even, it just feels like she’s been here.

  And it’s giving her the creeps.

  Safe inside the bunker, Katherine listens to the noises in the kitchen above her head and tries to figure out who is up there. It doesn’t sound like the police, or if it is, there’s only one of them. There isn’t the noise there was before, or the sound of voices. Just footsteps moving around.

  It goes quiet. Whoever it is has left the kitchen. She hears the stairs creak and knows they have gone upstairs.

  The idea that it may be a squatter fills her with fury and she’s not about to take it lying down. This is her house! Hers! How dare they waltz in and think they can just take over her stuff. She won’t have it! She is not going to let her lovely house be filled with filthy, skuzzy squatters who have no right to be here! She’ll kill them first before she lets them do that, and don’t she won’t, cos she fuckin’ will!

  Sliding out of her hiding place, Katherine glides across the chilly, cellar floor and silently makes her way up to the kitchen. Opening the door, she peers through the gap and instantly fixes on the handbag left on the table.

  If it’s squatters, she thinks, then they are squatters with good taste. That’s Gucci.

  Back in her own bedroom, Megan tries hard to get a grip on herself. Okay, she thinks, if Katherine has been here, then so what? She isn’t here now and it’s very unlikely she’ll show up. She must know the police are looking for her and she must know this is one of the first places they’ll look. So she’s not likely to hang around. Now stop being such a sodding idiot and go get ready for Alex. She’ll be here before you know it and if she finds you cowering like some soppy school girl, you’re not going to live it down for weeks!

  Megan!

  Katherine has found her driving license, complete with photo.

  Her face breaks into a smile. So it’s Megan creeping about upstairs. Good, faithful, little Megan, no doubt come to make sure everything’s okay.

  It’ll be a pleasure to see her again, just to see the look on her face when I step out of the shadows. I wonder what she’ll do? Scream? Faint? Offer to fuck me?

  Opening a drawer, Katherine takes out the longest knife she can find and holds it up so she can see her reflection in the blade.

  Time to say hello, she thinks.

  Unzipping her suitcase, Megan fishes out her wash bag and heads for the bathroom, hoping she’ll feel better after a shower. The idea of Katherine having been in the house has seriously rattled her and even though she knows she isn’t here now, the idea that she might be skulking in the next room just won’t leave her. To calm herself therefore, she’s working on the assumption that if she does something ordinary, these strange jitters will leave her be.

  It’s a good plan and one that looks like it might be working, right up until the moment she looks into the bath and sees the remains of suds. Then her heart flips, turns over again and tells her to fucking panic, because no way, no fucking way, should there still be bath suds still in the bath! They left weeks ago! Weeks! And the bath was clean, she knows it was. She bloody cleaned it! Shit! Shit!

  “Hello Megan.”

  Megan screams and drops her wash bag. Her toothbrush and a stick of deodorant fall out. Katherine tells her she should be more careful.

  “Something might break.” She adds, eyeing the fallen items. “And that would be more mess to clean up.”

  Megan stares at her. “What are you doing here!” She gasps, noticing for the first time the knife dangling carelessly in Katherine’s right hand.

  “It’s my house remember.” Katherine replies, bringing the knife up to admire its shiny blade. “I think I’m entitled to be in my own house.”

  “Yes, but..”

  “But what Megan? Scared I’m going to cut you? Scared I might kill you? Cos that’s what I am now, isn’t it? A killer. A murderer. Are you scared?”

  What’s the point in lying? “ Yes.” Megan says.

  “Right answer.” Katherine smiles. “So you should be. How did you get here Megan? Did you drive?”

  Megan nods. “Yes.”

  “The keys to your car?”

  “Are in my handbag downstairs. Take it if you want, I don’t mind.”

  “I don’t care if you do mind. Who knows you are here? Tell the truth now.”

  “No one.” Megan lies, swallowing hard. “It was a spur of the moment thing. I thought I should see if everything was alright, after the police..” She lets the sentence trial off.

  “It’s okay.” Katherine says, “I know they were here. I was hiding, but they didn’t find me. Obviously. Problem now is what to do with you?”

  She moves closer, the knife held firm in her hand. Megan shrinks back but there is nowhere much for her to go and her back presses hard against the edge of the basin. Her eyes never leave the knife, weaving back and forth in front of her face. She is more scared now than she has even been in her life and it rushes through her mind that she might not have much life left in which to topple this level of fear. She can’t help the tears that spring to her eyes. She doesn’t want to die.

  “Katherine.” She pleads. “Don’t.”

  “Oh, but I have to.” Katherine soothes. “Don’t you see? If I let you live, you’ll tell the police and then they’ll come and get me and I’ll go to prison, and I don’t want to go to prison, Megan.”

  “I won’t tell!” Megan says, starting to sob. “I promise! You can trust me! I won’t say I thing. I won’t! I promise! Please Katherine. Please!”

  “I’m sorry Megan, it’s too late.”

  Katherine stabs her in the stomach. The knife slicing through skin and muscle and tissue and oh, how easily it disappears. She never realised how easy it was.

  And now she doesn’t have it anymore because the knife is in Megan and Megan is gasping and folding in two and her hands are flying to the wound, her fingers already stained red with blood. She is crumbling to the floor and her eyes are staring up at her whilst her mouth is an open O of wonder. Blood is soaking her top and dripping onto the lino and she is lying down now next to her fallen toothbrush and she is still bleeding, the knife sticking out of her stomach.

  Katherine watches her and feels nothing. There is no remorse or grief or even triumph. Just a faint realization that this is how her life is going to be from now on. If someone invades her space she will have to defend it, no matter what the cost.

  It is going to take ages to get all that blood off the flooring.

  “Katherine.”

  It is Megan who speaks. Her voice is faint, barely a whisper, and Katherine has to kneel down to hear her. “Katherine.”

  “What?” Katherine’s voice is cold and indifferent. She doesn’t want to hear this pathetic woman’s dying wish. She wants to go downstairs, open a bottle of wine and get outrageously drunk. Megan’s last bleating means little to her. “What do you want?” She demands.

  “Behind you.” Megan gasps and closes her eyes.

  Katherine turns. It feels like she is doing it in slow motion, but round she goes. She is still crouching beside the now dead Megan. She knows her knees are going to pop as she straightens. Her eyes seem to be ahead of the rest of her body and she sees the figure in the doorway long before
her body has the time to stand up. Instinctively, she grabs the blade still sticking out of Megan’s stomach and pulls it free with a wet, sucking sound.

  But Alex is ready for her. Alex, who letting herself in, has heard Megan’s begging for mercy, wonders what the hell is going on, hears Katherine’s voice, understands instantly and legs it up the stairs too late to stop the fatal blow. But she isn’t too late now. She isn’t too late to pull out the gun she keeps stuffed deep inside her handbag and aim it at Katherine. Nor is she too late to hear Katherine start to beg and promise her the world or do anything for her if only...

  Alex gets inside her car and sits behind the steering wheel with tears coursing down her cheeks. Her gun is now a bullet light, but she doubts if she will replace it.

  She has made all the requisite phone calls and no doubt sirens will soon fill the air. She has not given the authorities her name and she never will.

  Starting the car, she pulls out of the driveway and turns right. She looks at her fuel gauge. Somewhere she will need to fill up with petrol.

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