over as town treasurer, my theft would be discovered, but I’d planned on being gone when that happened, living on an island under a new identity. George always did have the habit of screwing everything up.
Behind me I heard a sickening crash as the glass on the screen door shattered. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw bugs spilling through the new opening and onto the porch, George and Sally spilling out with them.
“Times up,” I said, smiling at Joe. He tried to run, but he wasn’t very quick. The last few years he’d really let himself go, no doubt blaming his inactivity on a bad heart. The truth, though, and better for me, was the man was just lazy. I slashed his stomach open with the first strike. The second widened the gash and I could see his insides. If there’d been time to think about it, I probably would have gotten sick. After all, I wasn’t a violent person, at least not until my livelihood depended on it.
Once I was sure Joe was dead I looked around for any witnesses. But no, not a soul in sight. I lived on a secluded street and by this time of day everyone was at work. Picking up Joe’s bug canister, I threw it on top of him, then, grabbing Joe’s feet, I pulled him to the back of the yard, counting on George and Sally to follow suit.
I wasn’t disappointed.
“I should have expected this,” I said, as George stumbled across the lawn, “you always said you’d make me pay. For weeks I dreamed about you, your voice echoing in my head. I probably should have buried you somewhere else, but we were in the middle of remodeling and the wall was there, just there, open and ready to be finished. The smell didn’t really bother me, either, just your voice. But then the smell went away and so did the dreams.
“You were just waiting, though, weren’t you? Well, three years ago I didn’t let you ruin my life, and I’m sure as hell not going to let you ruin it now!”
I pointed Joe’s canister at the two of them and began to spray, the poison fogging the air. I held my breath as I backed towards the rear of the yard and closer to the garage. When the poison ran out, I sprinted for the door and jumped into my car. I reached into the glove compartment where I kept a spare key. Of a truth, proper pre-planning prevents piss poor procedure. Wouldn’t do me any good if in a jam I couldn’t find my keys.
The last few years, always sure that someone was merely an audit away from finding me out, I’d lived in paranoia. Not to mention the pressure of having a couple of rotting bodies in the house. I even kept a packed suitcase in the truck of the car, my G.O.O.D bag, because one never knew when they needed to Get Out OF Dodge. My money, too, was not sitting in one totally vulnerable place. Instead, the sizable cache had been split into numerous accounts, all keyed to my alternate identity.
Backing the car out of the garage, I pulled onto the street, and turned towards town. But then—NO! George stood in the way, his bug-infested corpse blocking the road. I floored it, pushing the pedal to the floor and ramming the bastard. Bugs splattered all over the window, along with George’s intestines. Turning on the wipers, I screamed and threw up my hands as I crashed into a tree.
When I woke I was in the hospital, handcuffed to a bed, and then they brought me here. They call it a hospital, but I know what it really is. Doctor Green, the so-called psychiatrist, just stares at me, taking notes while I tell him over and over how George drove me to it—to all of it.
He doesn’t believe me. No one does.
I can hear them coming to take me to my room and I’m scared. I don’t want to be in there alone … not with them, and they’re always there, always watching and waiting. But this is part of the punishment.
“Jenny, it’s time to go back to your room.” The orderly unties my restraints, helps me stand, then makes sure my jacket is secure. “Don’t want you hurting yourself like last week.”
“I told you, I didn’t do that, they did!” Why won’t they believe me? I feel the first bug, a centipede, crawl across my cheek, followed by other bugs; it’s the same every day, but they pretend they can’t see. “There,” I scream, trying to get him to help, “they’re all over me, disgusting creatures! Get them off me! Offoffoffoffoff.”
I’m sobbing uncontrollably, but I don’t care. Walking down the hall, I try to swat the bugs, but I can’t move my arms. It’s the same every day. George loves it, silently watching as they lead me to my room. I point him out, but they don’t see him. “There he is! Don’t you see him … it’s George! I told you he was alive. Don’t you see the bugs?”
In front of me, George opens his mouth, laughing at me. Hundreds of beetles fall out, spilling onto the floor, but no one notices. The orderly, oblivious to the creatures he’s walking over, holds my arm as he guides me past George. Then we pass Sally and he shoves me into my room. He’s not worried about injuring me, the walls are padded. Desperate not to be left alone, I throw myself against the door, but I hear the lock click into place. Still, I plead, screaming, hoping they will come back. “Don’t leave me here! Please, don’t leave me!”
No one pays attention and eventually I cease banging my head against the door. I know they don’t care. They think I’m crazy, but the truth is, I’ve been cursed for my greed and what I did to my husband, to Sally, to Joe.
When I crashed my car, I died and went to Hell. Resigning myself to fate, I turn around and face the other three figures in the room.
The End
Lisa McCourt Hollar resides in Ohio with her husband and children. She is currently working on a YA vampire series, Marked and an adult vampire novel, The Legend of Graystone Manor. She hopes to have both released in the near future.
Jenny's Secret Page 2