“Momma, momma!” I heard my daughter cry and, like an emperor penguin hearing their chick among the overwhelming nursery of others, I weaved my way through the kindergarten class to my little Nell. She beamed at me with her angelic smile and ran into my arms.
“Momma, we learned about trees today and how some have leaves that change colors in the fall. But not all of them. Those ones are called con…conference. And then we drew trees and mine was really pretty and Jane drew a really pretty one, too. Did you know some people can’t see all the colors? They are called colorblinds. Like Ricky and Tommy. They said the red leaves look the same as the green ones. My sandwich was so good today! Can you make it for me everyday? Jane had a bite and…”
Nell prattled on about her day, the non sequiturs building up to form a somewhat comprehensive view of her day. I didn’t interrupt to let her know momma was also colorblind. I just smiled and listened as we walked to the car. The outgoing line was a crawl but we were in no hurry. Having an online shop made it easy to work around Nell’s schedule. And today, Nell was going to a birthday party for one of her friends she had met at the local children’s theatre group.
We had enough time to pop into our local park and hike the short loop. I like getting Nell out in nature. I believe in exposing kids to the outdoors as much as possible. She paid particular attention to the leaves today, looking for different colors. She also spotted a toad, a swallowtail butterfly, and a couple of downy woodpeckers.
We piled back into the car and headed over to the ceramic studio, the party destination. I already had the gift wrapped and ready to go on the back seat. Lauralee, the birthday girl, is obsessed with unicorns. Kids with favorite animals make gift selection a breeze. Just find anything with that animal on it and they’ll be happy.
I park, grab the present, and we walk to the door. Nell runs over to her friends to say hi while I place the gift on the table alongside all the others. I chat a few minutes with Lauralee’s mom, then wave bye to Nell. “Bye momma!” she blurts before focusing her attention back to whatever interesting gossip five year olds tell each other.
***
A vague sense of unease washes over me as I unlock my door. I hesitate a moment on the threshold, looking for the source. Nothing seems to be out of place. Our front garden is quietly growing, bursting with tomatoes, kale and squash. The street beyond is silent, most of the neighbors having jobs that require them to be at an office downtown. My home, also, is serenely quiet. No sinister creaking or groaning, no indication that anyone has disturbed the sanctity of my abode. Even the mewing of our beloved cat, Tiger, is absent. That was it. Where was Tiger?
I quickly stepped in and closed the door, calling for the small gray feline. She acted more like a dog than her namesake would suggest and always responded when she heard her name. When she didn’t appear, I quickly dropped my stuff along the kitchen counter and started searching each room downstairs. I looked under the couches, in the litterbox, even opened kitchen cabinets to make sure the poor cat hadn’t somehow gotten herself stuck in one. But to no avail. Tiger had vanished. I glanced up the stairs. We have a door at the top of our stairs that Nell and I close each morning before we leave to ensure Tiger doesn’t get into any mischief among our clothes or keepsakes while we’re gone. Yes, the door was still shut.
I was quickly descending into panic mode – Where else should I look? Did someone steal Tiger? Should I call the police? What was I going to tell Nell? – when a quiet “mew” broke my reverie. It sounded muffled, as if Tiger was calling from behind a wall. I followed the noise to the kitchen door leading to the backyard. Upon opening it, a small grey figure slinked in.
That was odd. Tiger was not an outdoor cat. And she had definitely been in the house this morning. I distinctly remember Nell saying goodbye to Tiger, giving the creature a quick pat on the head, just before we headed out the door. I checked the windows but they were all shut.
Tiger jumped up to her usual spot on the couch and curled up. I stared at her as if she would magically spill her secrets, but cats are more known for creating questions, not giving answers. She merely licked her leg. Resigned, I sat down next to her and turned on the TV.
I hadn’t wanted a cat. It had been my ex-wife who insisted. “Think how good it will be for Nell to have an animal around,” she explained. “It will teach her compassion and patience.” How ironic. Maybe I should have gotten my ex a cat instead, or two. Or ten. But that wouldn’t have solved the problem. The sickness had been planted in her long before that, and no amount of cats would have expunged it. If only I had seen the symptoms earlier. I shook my head, trying to dispel the thoughts. Blaming myself wasn’t productive, as my therapist had told me countless times.
I turned my attention to the TV to distract me. The local news was on, a segment about a charity run. My stomach growled, so I padded across the hall to the kitchen for some lunch. I opened the fridge, grabbed a couple pieces of leftover pizza, plopped them on a plate and headed back to the couch. I know it’s controversial but I believe leftover pizza is best cold. Mainly because I’m too lazy to reheat it. Deal with it.
I figured I’d take another five minutes to eat and chill, then I’d get back to work. With just a few bites left, the traffic segment was interrupted by a “Breaking News!” story. I swallowed and took another bite but I would never finish that pizza.
“Three prisoners have made a daring dash for freedom today. It is unclear at this time how they escaped their confines, but their absence was swiftly noted and a chase soon took place. Two of the escapees were quickly captured, as you can see on our exclusive heli-cam. The third is still at large. The police are urging everyone to stay in their homes or offices, and to report any suspicious persons. At this time we do not have a name or description of this prisoner but we will update you with the latest information as this breaking story continues…”
It was her. I knew down to my bones that it was her. She had escaped and was coming back to finish what she had started. I realized I had been rubbing the scar on my chest, just below my left collarbone. Suddenly, it was hard to breathe. The nightmare was supposed to be over. You don’t fall back into it. Your monsters aren’t supposed to return after they had been defeated. Nell and I had gotten our happy ending. The end. Roll credits.
But that’s not how life works. There are no happy endings because there is no end. I was frozen in this fear until Tiger looked up, eyes alert, ears pricked. Tiger! That’s how Tiger got out, she must have slipped through the back door. The monster was already here.
I launched over the couch, intending to head for the kitchen, when a creak from the stairs brought me up short and I crept back behind the bookshelf. The creek was the door at the top being opened. Footsteps on the stairs followed. They were soft, I probably wouldn’t have heard them if my attention was still on the news. Then there was a sharp crack; she always forgot about the creaky step, third from the top. A pause from the stairs but she must have thought the TV had drowned out the noise because after a moment the descent continued.
I grabbed the heaviest looking object within reach, a large, black hardcover with two red letters and a sewer grate staring up at me.
The footsteps reached the hardwood floor and was turning towards the noise of the TV. Heart hammering so loud I thought I was going to choke on it, I raised the book behind my head and brought it down as soon as the shape of a familiar head had crossed into my field of vision. I swung it at an angle so that the book hit the back of my target’s head, toppling them forward.
I used the momentum to jump over the fallen body and continue toward my previous goal, the kitchen. That’s where safety was – my phone, my car keys, my knives if it came to that. I had underestimated how quickly the other person would recover, however, and felt myself being tugged back by my hair just as I had gotten to the threshold separating the front hall from the kitchen. I reached back and clutched at the hand that had halted my progress. Then I spun my body around, twisting my arms in such a way that the hand was forced to let go. I was now face to face with my attacker. Trish. My ex. A woman I had once loved but now barely recognized beneath all the rage and hatred that glared at me.
“Long hair now? You think that makes you legit? That you pass? What a joke.” Trish swiped at my head but I easily dodged out of the way. “What an abomination you’ve become, EVAN.” She placed extra emphasis on the name, knowing it would hit me. And it did. I hated hearing that name. But I didn’t recoil, as Trish had expected, instead I lashed out with my foot and, connecting with her lower belly, caused a low groan to erupt from her lips as she doubled over.
I ran into the kitchen, trying to make the quick decision of what to grab first. I reached across the counter and snatched up the phone but the adrenaline coursing through me worked against me as my fingers trembled and it slipped from my grip. In trying to correct, I only managed to drop the phone, watching in horror as it fell to the floor on the opposite side of the counter from me. Shit! Squelching my frustration, I targeted the keys, successfully grabbing them in one go. Unfortunately, those precious seconds I lost with the phone meant Trish had recovered and was now entering the kitchen. I jumped back and ran around to the far side of the table, placing it between Trish and myself. This meant I had lost any means of escape, however, as both the back door and the hallway entrance were now blocked by her.
She saw her advantage, using the moment to continue spewing her vitriol as she slowly backed her way to the knife block, never taking her eyes off me. “You pathetic excuse for a human. I can’t believe I was ever tricked into wanting to be with you.” She pulled the steak knife out of its slot. “You’re the one who should have been locked away, not me.” She moved toward the table, standing exactly opposite from me now, daring me to make a move. “You shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near Nell, filling her mind with perverted ideas. I’ll make sure she’s brought up right.” I feinted to the right, then started towards the left but Trish matched my moves like a mirror.
“Say something, you freak!” Trish yelled. I remained silent. “Fine. Don’t talk. Shall we do a little carving instead? That’s what you want, isn’t it?” And with that, Trish lunged straight over the table at me. I yelped as I felt the knife pierce across my arm. Trish was now on top of the table. I ran to the corner but Trish had me trapped. She sliced at my body, creating slashes wherever she connected. “I’ll cut you up until you’re scattered into nothing.” She raised the knife for the final blow into my chest. I was looking at my own death and I accepted it with a peaceful calm. My only regret was not being able to see Nell one last time, to tell her just how much I loved her.
I sent up a final prayer for the world to protect my little girl, when Trish’s face changed from triumphant to startled. She grabbed at her leg where Tiger was busy attacking. Trish yelped and howled and kicked Tiger off, flinging the tiny body across the room. The kick had caused Trish to lose her balance and she toppled off the table in an ugly heap. Still laser-focused on her goal, she reached up to the table to grab the knife where she had dropped it but encountered only air.
“My name is Star,” I said as I plunged the knife deep into her chest. Her exit from this world was quick, not even uttering a final word before slumping back into a final stillness. I had slayed the monster once and for all.
Not yet ready to process all that had happened, I instead limped over to my savior, the small, grey figure quiet against the tiles. I bent down and tenderly placed a hand on Tiger’s side. Feeling the small rise and fall of her body, I let out a small sigh. “You always were more like a dog, but thank goodness you have the nine lives of a cat,” I gently quipped, inappropriate laughter bubbling up that I couldn’t stop. I laughed at my terrible joke, my terrible ex, this terrible situation, the terrible world. I laughed so hard I cried. I cried so hard I went full circle back to laughter.
[Image Credit : Photo by Javier Virues-Ortega on Unsplash]
Aimee Reiss is from NY state. What state she is in now is up for debate. She has always enjoyed writing but is now finally brave enough to see if anyone wants to read her words. She has written two plays that were produced in NY (very off Broadway). When not writing, she also enjoys being on a stage, on a trail, or in a book.
