He gave her a slight shove on the shoulder and she continued to walk. The house was a mess, at least from the outside. Half of the roof had caved in and a tarp had lazily been applied, not even covering the entire gap. Various black garbage bags covered blown out windows. Leaves and branches had collapsed on the truck in the driveway. There was an open trash bag with broken paper plates in it and a few dresses and other womens clothing strewn about in the yard.
“What are you doing?!” He snapped. Sophie had stopped walking. She felt sick.
“You can’t listen, huh?” he said, dragging her along. “My wife couldn’t listen either. The whore.” He gave Sophie another shove until she was inside the house.
The house was surprisingly clean and quiet. The hardwood floor shined like it had been recently polished – or maybe rained on because of the big hole in the roof. The stream of sunlight across the floor vanished when he slammed the door.
“Come on,” he grabbed her again and took her to the very middle of the room. He held the knife to her neck. He could easily drag it across her neck and just get it over with. She felt the blade nick her neck. Neither of them made a sound.
“Why aren’t you begging me not to do it?” he wondered.
“I’m just so…so scared…” her voice shook as proof. The house was dark and smelled of rain and meat. It felt lonely.
“Yeah well…why were you snooping around?” he asked. When she didn’t answer he pressed his fingers into her back and gave her a little shove as if to push the words out but they didn’t come.
He was so much taller than her and her face was against his stomach and she inhaled his scent. Fading cologne, grass, sweat…blood…a day that had died in the worst way against his body.
“Huh?” he pressed the blade closer to her neck. He had black eyes. They looked like holes in his face.
“I wasn’t…snooping…I was walking…” she stared up at him. His face was tense. He seemed seconds away from dragging the blade across her neck. She searched for words that would save her life.
“Please don’t kill me…please.” She shut her eyes and prepared herself.
“Finish your sentence,” he gave his demands precisely. “You were walking and then what, hmm?” His voice was deep and he talked fast and assertive. She opened her eyes and found him staring down at her. Nothing else mattered but what she did and said. She actually had someone’s attention finally. She found a strange comfort in this.
“I saw her…running.”
“So you did see it,” he said, almost smirking. “Well…” he reached back into his pocket and took out the dirty, worn handkerchief. “You won’t be seeing anything else again.”
She stood perfectly still as he got behind her and brought the handkerchief to her face. She shut her eyes and felt it press tightly against her face as he tied a secure knot behind her head. Then he gripped her arm and took her along. She had no idea what was going to happen next. Her heart stumped around, wanting answers.
He pushed her down and she felt the straw structure of a chair beneath her. The legs were old and wooden and stiff. She felt his knife against her throat again.
“That’s my knife,” he said. “Move or scream and it goes into your neck. I will not hesitate.” There was a lot of promise in his voice. She made a slight sound just to let him know she understood and stayed very, very still. If she moved at all it was because her heart was beating so hard it shook her whole body.
He brought her hands behind the chair and she felt a splintery rope wrap around her wrists. He tied them so tight together she could feel her pulse thump between her wrists. Next he tied her ankles to the chairs legs, wrapping the rope several times around her legs. He went upstairs and came back down with a roll of duct tape, ripped a piece off and placed it over her mouth. A few seconds later she heard him walk away, the floor creaking beneath his feet.
13
She didn’t know what time it was but it seemed late. She figured it was night because she heard crickets. Her arms ached from being restrained and she was terribly thirsty and was getting a slight headache. She’d heard sounds all night – him coming in and out of the house, walking around. He never said a word to her the whole time.
Then his footsteps grew nearer and her body tensed. What was he going to do? What had he been thinking all night? Did he have something in his hand? He pulled the handkerchief down from her eyes. He had a gun now. He’d retired the knife. He pressed the gun against her face, its solid cool make felt very distinct against her cheek. Then he just stared at her for a minute, placing his hand on her knee.
“I’m gonna make you some dinner, and I’m gonna feed you while I hold a gun to your head, if you scream, I’ll shoot you. If you don’t scream…I won’t shoot you,” he shrugged. He always seemed on the verge of smiling, like he was getting a certain thrill out of all of this.
Sophie looked at him with fearful eyes. She stared at his blonde mustache so long she noticed a few grey hairs in it. He stood up. His tall, lean body cast a shadow over hers. The crickets seemed louder. She wondered if the sliding glass doors to the patio were open…
“Okay?” he waited for her to nod. He put his shoe up on her knee like he was about to kick her over.
“Nod if you understand.”
She quickly nodded and her hair got in her face and she wanted to move it away but couldn’t. She looked up at him hoping he’d do it for her. She tried to plead with her eyes but he didn’t seem to understand. He was actually very good looking. She shut her eyes for a second. Her head was pounding. She gave another nod.
He let the handkerchief dangle around her as he went into the kitchen. The house was one big open space, at least on the first floor. The handkerchief smelled like sweat and grass, like him. He must have kept it in his back pocket all the time. She could feel her pounding heart in her eyes. She thought it was going to make her eyes explode.
His kitchen was very clean, and the house seemed bare. He had everything in its proper place. All the utensils were stored away – knives in a separate drawer from forks and spoons. He had two cookbooks lined on the counter next to a healthy plant. Everything was spotless. Every appliance looked brand new. Pots and pans hung over the bar. He was the mess. His head. His heart.
She watched him place a cutting board down on the kitchen counter. Then he turned and took an eight inch chef’s knife and started cutting up peppers and then chicken. He looked up at Sophie.
“Are you a vegetarian?” he checked.
She shook her head and he continued cutting. He cut very clean and fast. She watched him wash the knife right after he was done, putting it back in the drawer. His arms were nice and lean, his veins were close to the surface.
“I’m making a chicken salad,” he said. It was like he could read her mind because she wondered what he was making.
Her eyes widened as he walked over to her with the food. He walked fast as he came over, like he might walk right through her. He placed the bowl down on a table next to her and kicked a vacant chair out of the way and sat on the back of the couch. She watched the way his shirt sagged against his thin body, and his jeans were very flattering. He crossed his arms and stared for a minute before he leaned forward and she took in all the features of his face again.
“Don’t be so tense. I’m just taking your tape off.” He stopped though, dropping his hand. Why’d he stop? He was quietly observing her. He stood up and looked down at the salad. He put his hands on his hips. What was he about to do? What was he thinking? He could do anything to her he wanted.
He knelt down in front of her. The expression he made caused him to look about ten years older. It was sad and sinuous.
“Its this simple,” he let her know, moving his hand around. He had nice hands, kind of slim for a man’s.
“If my wife had been good and done what she was supposed to, she’d be alive right now. And I don’t know where you’re supposed to be right now, but if you’d just sta
yed there then this wouldn’t be happening either, okay?”
She quickly nodded. His hands suddenly landed on her shoulders and she shut her eyes, terrified.
“I’m not gonna hurt you, Hey? Open your eyes.” He pulled on her shoulders a little, like he might shake her. She opened her eyes and noticed a scar on the corner of his right eye. He started to remove the tape again.
“Are you going to scream?” he checked before pulling it away. She shook her head vigorously.
“Because if you scream I’m fine – you’re the one that will be dead. I will kill you – do you understand?” He spoke calm and assuring. “There’s plenty of room out in those woods to bury another body – a little one like yours, especially.”
She shut her eyes and felt blood find its way to her thigh because the tampon was too soiled to soak anymore up. She felt his hand caress her cheek.
“This was not part of my plan,” he assured her. “You must understand that. I don’t go around killing people for fun – that bitch, you have no idea, you just saw what I did. You don’t know what she did.”
She wanted him to know she understood. She nodded several times. He stared at her auburn hair, at her pretty little eyes. Every time she nodded more hair fell into her face. Her heart was pounding and her throat ached. He picked up the gun and pointed it at her throat.