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MADELINE
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Would you look at this? Mal came home drunk tonight. She didn’t even see me sitting on the barstool waiting for her. Not when she came in the door—a weird look on her face—and not even when she literally bumped into me and almost fell over on her way to bed. I pour her a glass of water and leave it on her nightstand. She will need this when she wakes up.
Alright, well, the day is just beginning for me. Time to set this plan into action. I borrowed some more of my sister’s clothing but made no alterations this time. No, I want to look just like her in case I have a run-in with my intended target for the evening. I decide to wear simple, loose-fitting jeans, and a sweat shirt that says, “I Love Nursing” Lame! People are going to think I have a freaking infant at home or something. It’s a bit hot for the sweater but I might need the hood for cover. With my hair in a ridiculous ponytail, I head out into the world.
Because Shawn is an idiot, and has his resume listed on his LinkedIn account with his home address on the header, I now also have that same address. Does he not know how internet stalkers and scammers work? Anyway, it benefits me and that’s all that matters. It is possible that I might not need to hit up that jazz club for my chance after all.
When I turn to lock the door behind me, Paul is standing there with his arms full of trash. “Fuck! You scared the shit out of me. Why are you here being all creepy and shit?”
“Uh...” he gestures to the stuff in his arms. “You left this out here. Mal, I don’t know what I did to make you mad at me, but please tell me how I can make it right.”
Shit, I forgot he thinks I am my sister. Oops! “I did?”
“Yeah, when your purse spilled. I didn’t want to leave it out here, and your attitude kept me from knocking on the door. So, uh, I was going to take it with me if you didn’t come back out. Not to keep it or anything, just to hold for you. Are we okay? If not, what can I do to make this right?” Paul looks so unbelievably helpless and vulnerable. It would be a crime to leave him hanging.
“Is that a credit card?” I ask, eyeing the contents he holds. There is a credit card just sitting there on top of a bunch of junk.
“Yeah, a little personal to leave out here. That’s not really like you, Mal.”
Staring at him, I think about this for a moment. “Here,” I say, opening the door. “Leave all my stuff on the table, right there.” I point to the kitchen table, but he just starts acting all retarded, like he suddenly can’t move. “Just throw it all on the table. I’ll get to it later. All but this.” Plucking the card, I pocket it. It’s a Capital One Credit Card, not like the debit card she canceled on me. It might come in handy.
Paul takes his time entering, his eyes everywhere but the table. “Just throw it on the table. I have somewhere to be.”
“Oh, sorry. Can I do anything for you? I don’t like you being mad at me. We have had a lot of fun.” The grin he sports right now makes me internally gag. “What can I do to keep that going?”
“Come on, out we go.” I am forced to shove him back out the door. The dude is giving me serious captive vibes and I have no desire to end up in a closet somewhere with my arms and legs tied together with electrical cord.
Skipping down the steps, Paul is right on my heels. How does my sister deal with this shit? We get to the ground floor, and I turn on him. “Look, Paul, it may have been fun for you...” I trail off. Wait a minute. I think about how he might be able to offer me further use. “Hey, do you have a car?”
“You know I do. Remember, I gave you that ride one time.” I stop him before he can say anymore. We don’t need to bring up past shit that might mess up my game.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I need another ride now.”
“Okay, sure. I can do that. Where are we going?” Paul asks.
“We are not going anywhere. I just need YOU to take ME somewhere. Got it?”
He hops in front of me. “Got it. This way, my lady.” Ugh, I cannot believe I slept with this moron.
***
Paul put the address I gave him into his GPS, and it only took about fourteen minutes to get here. I get that there wasn’t any traffic, but really? My sister has been living less than fifteen minutes from the man she has been obsessed with for months and didn’t even know it. Okay, obsessed might be a little much.
“Is this the place?” Paul asks in a worried tone.
I check my notes again and look back up at the house. “Yep, this is it.” It’s a house. An actual house. Not an apartment or a townhome, but a house. I don’t move. My ass is planted in the passenger seat of Paul’s 2006 Ford Focus. Staring at the porch light that glows over a pale red door, I wonder what is happening inside those walls.
“Do you need me to wait and give you a ride back home?” Paul interrupts my thoughts.
“Actually, I am just going to sit here for a minute, if that is okay with you. I need some time to compose myself.”
“To what?” he asks. When I don’t answer him, he goes on. “Are you still talking to that guy? I thought y’all were over.”
This brings me out of my trance. “What guy?” Who is he to think he knows me and what I am doing?
“You know, Shawn, your ex. This is his house. Mal, did you really have me drive you to your ex’s house? I thought we—”
“Hold the fuck up!” I stop him. For a second, I forgot he thinks I am Mallory. I need a minute to gather my thoughts. “Paul, you need to stop. We are not a thing. I made that very clear to you. Also, how do you know this is Shawn’s house? Are you guys friends or something?” It never dawned on me they may be in contact with each other.
I can see the panic all over his face. “Well...uh, no. We aren’t what you might consider friends, but I got to know him a bit while y’all were dating. You see, it’s complicated. This might not be coming out right.”
“For God-fucking-sakes, Paul. Spit it out! Do you still talk to him or not?”
“We never really talked, per se. We were more like acquaintances. I mean—”
“I get it.” He shuts up at my interruption. “You thought you guys were friends, but the minute he stopped coming around, he stopped talking to you along with me. We are in the same boat. Aren’t we, Paul?” Feeding his internal psycho might actually get me some answers. “Does he live here alone?” I question.
The man next to me freezes. I haven’t been able to shut him up since this adventure began, but here he is, all speechless and shit.
“Answer me!” My scream echoes throughout the metal box around us.
“Sorry,” he sputters. “I thought you knew.”
“Thought I knew what?” I ask. Why is he being so cryptic?
“That Shawn and you know...” He gestures with his hands toward the house. I raise my brow, waiting for him to continue. “Shawn and Amy. You know, they hooked up. She left, and he left. They are still together.”
The confusion must be written all over my face, but this idiot can’t see it. Who the hell is Amy? Silence. All there is around us is silence as we both wait. Amy. Hmm. Wait, is that who he tagged in that one Insta photo? Does my sister know her? Should the name mean something?
“Amy, as in your old roommate, Amy,” Paul clarifies.
You have got to be kidding me! My sister’s ex ran off with her roommate and she didn’t even know. Paul is still staring at me like I have two heads. I need to react. Say something, Mad! “How do you know this?”
He hesitates. “I didn’t want to say anything. I saw them together. Several times while you were at work. Then again, while he helped her move her stuff out and into this house.”
“Did you assist them in this breakaway from me?” I ask in horror.
When he doesn’t respond right away, I reach over and slap him on the chest. “You mean to tell me that while my sis... Um, while I was at work, thinking my boyfriend liked me and my roommate was loyal, you helped them ditch me? Are you for real? Then you have the audacity to hook up with me? Oh, I get it. You wanted them to leave so you could hook up with me. That’s pretty low of you, Paul.”
“I admit, I didn’t take the moral high road on that one. But you and I work. You and him? Not so much.”He shakes his head as if he has it all figured out.
“Really, Paul? You are a piece of work. And then it took you, like what, four months to finally score?”
“Six,” he says under his breath, but I hear it. Six? My sister got dumped by this asshole six months ago and still hasn’t let go.
A light comes on in the house, catching my attention. Paul is mumbling about something, but I don’t care. There are two people in that house that did my sister wrong, and they need to pay.
“Paul, listen to me. If you care about me. If you really want to be in my life, then you will wait in this car until I come back. Do you understand?”
He has no time to respond, as I am already exiting the car and heading for his trunk. I slap the back. “Open it up, Paul. I know you have something in here I can use.” He says nothing. Just stays in the driver’s seat with his eyes focused forward but still pops the trunk. Did I scare him? Good.
Look at that. A crowbar sits front and center. I didn’t even have to dig for anything. This will work just fine. Picking it up and slinging it over my shoulder, I head straight for the house. I know they are awake. The large window has light shining through it now, and a moment ago, I saw two shadows pass by.
Standing on the front porch, I see they don’t have one of those video cameras on their doorbell. Guess they haven’t gotten there yet, or maybe they are just renting. Either way, it works in my favor. With the hand that’s not holding the crowbar, I reach up and give the door three hard knocks.
I can hear them from the other side. Hushed voices bleeding through the wood. Should they answer? The hour is late. It couldn’t possibly be a salesman. Perhaps it is a neighbor in need. Do they really want to be the ones that help? Fuck, their lag bores me. I give the door one more sturdy knock but say nothing. There is a peephole, so I keep my head turned to the side.
The front door slowly opens. “Can we help you?” A man asks before I turn my face to him. He steps back, releasing the door as he does. This gives me a chance to enter.
“Hello, Shawn,” I say while walking through the threshold, intruding in his space, and shutting the door behind me. He is too shocked to react fast enough. “And Amy, long time no see.” The stick-thin girl stands several feet behind her boyfriend and looks as if she is about to have a heart attack. “Are you guys busy? Is this a bad time for company?”
Shawn answers first, “Now is actually a bad time, Mal.” He is closest to me and obviously the bigger threat. Before he can say anymore, I lift the crowbar from my back, and with all my might, plant it into his skull. He flails. His actions have no meaning as he stumbles around, eyes crossed, hands flailing.
When I go to pull the crowbar out, I find it stuck. Shawn’s lost eyes stare at me. His mouth is wide open. Blood drips from his head wound at first, but after a couple of seconds, it runs down his face at a rapid rate. This is when Amy reacts.
She screams, an ear-piercing scream that makes me wish I had a gun.
“Oh, fuck,” I say when she runs up the stairs and out of sight. I still can’t get the crowbar out of this dipshit’s thick skull.
“Fuck it!” I say, releasing the bar and leaving it in his head.
He may not be dead yet, but he will be soon. One thing is for sure, he isn’t talking to anyone about what just happened. That dude is a vegetable.
I have to get to the bitch before she escapes or reaches a phone. I take the stairs two at a time. This is a small house. There are only three doors on the second floor. Two of them are closed.
Oh where, oh where could you have gone, you little whore?
I pull one door open and see that it is an empty bathroom. The open door down the hall looks to be some sort of office. The closed door is locked, but not for long.
I step back to give myself some leverage and plow into it with all my force to bust it open. It does nothing but hurt my shoulder. I hear Amy gasp on the other side.
“Let me in, let me in, you little traitorous pig!” I yell, then decide to try an easier route.
She could be calling the police right now. I must act fast. I pull the single credit card out of my back pocket and slide it through the doorjamb. My body pushes into it when I feel the release.
Amy is cowered on the bed, a cell phone in her hand. It is plugged into the charger, and I can already tell by the look on her face that she was waiting for a charge so she could call for help.
“Put it down,” I demand while entering the room.
I don’t have a weapon as of yet, but my eyes scan the room for one, something Amy here should have done already. No, she was too worried about calling for help before trying to help herself. I don’t see anything, but I do see the screen on her phone light up, her face morphing to hopefulness as it does. Not today, bitch.
“You got me fucked up.” I pounce onto the bed.
Her eyes are wide with panic. I grab the phone out of her hand and see that she only made it to the call screen. There was never a chance for her to dial any numbers.
“You sneaky little hoe. You were just going to sail off into the sunset with my sister’s boyfriend? Who the fuck do you think you are?”
“Please, let me explain,” she begs.
I am straddling her. The phone now tossed to the floor. There is no one coming to help her, but I still don’t get to take my time. That scream she let off a minute ago probably alerted some neighbors to what is happening right now.
“Mal, this isn’t like you. I’m sorry. We didn’t want you to find out this way, but you cannot do this.” Amy tries reasoning with Mal. Little does she know, I am not her timid, cowered-away-from-conflict old roommate.
“No, it’s not like me at all, Amy. That’s because it isn’t me.” My palms dig into the tendon-filled flesh of her skinny neck.
She tries to fight me off, but it’s no use. This scrawny bitch is going down.
She tries saying something, panic, and confusion riddle her face, but no words escape her mouth.
My hands dig deeper, trying to shut her up. White knuckles and red skin do something to me. My hip twitches with a jolt and I have to bring myself down, somehow gain control.
It takes forever, but after about five minutes, she stops struggling.
Her body goes limp. Her eyes grow cold and lifeless.
She is gone; no time to relish in the moment. I gotta get out of here. Still, I take a moment to look at her, to soak it all in and feel alive. Well, at least more alive than she is.
Mad, get your shit together and get the hell out of here before you get busted. Right, priorities.
I stand and notice the blood on my sleeves from Shawn. Hell, is he still alive?
Guess I’ll find out as I exit this joint. I can’t get into Paul the Perv’s car with blood on me. I move to the bathroom and clean up. Removing my sister’s sweatshirt and tossing it into a corner, I grab something from the deceased couple’s closet. A large black tee will do.
On my way out, I stop at Shawn’s sorry shell. He somehow crawled to the bottom of the stairs before he died, with the crowbar still stuck in his skull.
“Sorry, Shawn, but I need this back.” Standing on the third step, I place one foot on his shoulder and grip the crowbar’s end with both hands. It takes some work, but I get it free rather quickly.
Entering the kitchen, I place the bar in their sink and turn on the hot water.
Looking around—while the water washes all the blood and brain matter off—I see these people were in the middle of a late dinner. Roasted chicken, potatoes, and carrots sit on plates.
Yum! I might have some time to spare—as I have yet to hear sirens—and decide to help myself to a late-night cold dinner.
This is delicious. No wonder my sister was enamored by this guy. That is, if he was the one to cook tonight.
When I am confident that the bar is clean enough, I wipe my hands, grab it, then exit out the front door the same way I entered.
Paul is still waiting by the curb. I give his trunk another knock, and when it opens, I toss the bar back inside.
“Is everything okay?” he asks.
“Sure.” I turn to him. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“You have a little...” He motions to his cheek. “And what happened to your shirt?”
I flip the visor open and look in the mirror. Fuck! There are a few blood splatters on my cheek and even some on my neck. A shower is first on my agenda when I get back to my sister’s apartment.
“Oh, they made me eat dinner with them. Roasted chicken. Some juice must have splashed. You know, I didn’t want to eat and felt kind of rushed. But all is well. I just needed closure. It’s important and if we don’t get it...” I trail off.
“No, I understand. I know exactly where you are coming from. So, you actually sat down and ate with them? After what they did to you? Wow!”
“Paul, please, grow up. Just get me the hell out of here and never mention this night to me or anyone else again.”