The Green-Eyed Monster

The green-eyed monster just reared its ugly head.

That bitch, she thought, that stupid, fucking bitch. How dare she?

Kristine sat at her desk, fuming. Her co-worker April (what kind of name was April? It sounded like a stripper) was living up to her brown-nose reputation. Before April got hired, Kristine was one of the favorites; she did her work well, she was polite and knowledgeable, and she was held in very high regard. But that all changed when April started.

Kristine never thought of herself as the jealous type, but she took an immediate dislike to April. On the day of her interview, April walked into the office wearing a short black skirt, and a close-fitting white top that did little to hide the green bra she was wearing. Kristine guessed—after one look—that April was wearing a matching thong, especially given the rest of the outfit. April even had the nerve to walk right past Kristine’s desk and raise her fist to knock on the door of the Regional Manager.

“Excuse me,” Kristine had said, “you have to check in with me first.”

“Oh, silly me,” April replied, flipping her annoyingly perfect blonde hair, “I should have known.”

Kristine told April to sit on the couch outside the R.M.’s office while she called on the intercom to let him know she was there.

“Oh, sure, honey,” April had said as she turned gracefully.

Kristine shook her head and turned back to her computer, only to notice that nearly every male head in the office was facing the waiting area. She stifled a rude comment, and tried to ignore the hussie and the pigs.

April’s interview lasted about forty-five minutes, which was nearly twenty minutes longer than anyone else’s. Apparently, the Regional Manager was “impressed with her resume”. Kristine knew better: the boss just wanted an excuse to stare at the hot, young 27-year-old that was interviewing for the new accountant position. When she finally left, Kristine felt herself relax. The green-eyed monster lay back down and didn’t come back out…

…until April began working at the company.

Every day since her first day was the same: she would walk in and command the attention of all the men—and several of the women—in the office, wearing her short skirts, and tight-fitting tops. Kristine was disgusted. It just wasn’t how you dressed for work—it just wasn’t right.

The green-eyed monster inside Kristine grew every day. One day, one of Kristine’s co-workers commented on her new colored contacts. She looked at him with a questioning look, her head unconsciously tilting to the left. She walked to the bathroom and gazed at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were their usual shade of hazel; flecked with green, but not nearly enough to prompt a comment.

She shook it off and returned to work.

Later that day, after a particularly irritating, albeit overheard, conversation between April and Joseph, Kristine was seething at her desk. She and Joseph had been dating for nearly four months and—up until April’s hire—things had been wonderful.

Joseph was a very attractive man: nearly 6’, and a slim, attractive figure, he kept his dirty blonde hair longer, and swept back from his face. His eyes were a stunning shade of blue, and could captivate you with just one look. When he laughed, the whole room laughed with him, and she had rarely ever seen him in less than a good mood. He drew attention no matter where he went, and never seemed to mind it. Fortunately, he didn’t seem to feed off it, either, which is one of the things that immediately drew Kristine to him. He was intelligent, caring, and, even though he had command of every room he entered, never seemed to abuse that power.

Kristine was confident that he would not leave her for April, but that didn’t stop her from getting angry when the little hussie openly flirted with her boyfriend.

That bitch, she thought, that stupid, fucking bitch. How dare she?

“Whoa, Kristine,” her co-worker said, stopping at her desk, “lovin’ the contacts! Green eyes work for you.”

“What do you mean?” she said, nearly putting too much force behind her words.

“Your contacts? They’re green. They look good.”

Kristine stood and all but ran to the ladies’ room. She shoved the door open and went immediately to the mirror, hoping to figure out what her co-worker was talking about. She looked herself straight in the eye, and saw her eyebrows nearly disappear into her bangs.

Her eyes were a bright, vibrant green. Moreover, when she looked closer, there was an eerie darkness swirling around her irises, reminding her of ink being dropped into a cup of green water.

“What the hell…?” she whispered, mesmerized by the swirling green and black in her eyes.

‘So, now you notice me,’ a low, sultry female voice said.

Kristine looked around in shock. There was no one else in the bathroom, and no logical explanation for the voice.

‘Don’t look so surprised,’ the voice said, ‘you know exactly who I am, love.’

Kristine was starting to get scared now. She couldn’t even speak

‘You don’t need to speak. You don’t need to do anything. I’ll take care of everything for you, darling. That’s exactly what I’m here for…’

“T-take care of w-w-what?” Kristine managed to ask, stuttering through the sentence.

‘Why, April, of course. We can’t have her talking to our Joseph, now, can we?’

“O-our Joseph?”

‘Oh, honey. You just stop worrying. I’ve got this.’

Kristine’s vision began to darken around the edges. She felt light-headed and nearly fell backward. She caught herself on the edge of the sink, gripping the sides and taking deep, panicked breaths. She was staring into eyes that weren’t her own as her vision slowly narrowed to just the reflection of “her” eyes.

‘Go to sleep, dear – it’ll all be over soon.’

***

Kristine’s head was pounding. Thankfully, the room was dark; she was sure the light would have been completely unbearable. She sat up and looked around. Somehow, she was back in her apartment. For the first time since waking, Kristine felt panicked. The clock on her nightstand impossibly read 12:54 am – nearly nine hours later than her last memory.

She had a gaping nine-hour hole in her life.

What had happened? Where had she been for the last nine hours? Still sitting, she swung her legs over the side of the bed. As her feet hit the ground, she found that her shoes were still on; apparently, she hadn’t undressed before she had passed out at home. Slowly, she made her way to the bathroom and clicked on the light.

As the harsh brightness made her head pound even more, she looked herself over in the mirror – and screamed.

She was covered in blood.

Kristine all but tore her clothes off her body, frantically searching for a source of the blood – a cut, or worse, a gash; punctures; bullet holes; anything. She slowly realized that the blood was not coming from a wound; it was not her blood at all.

Not her blood…who’s blood, then?

In a haze, she stumbled the three or so steps to the shower and turned on the tap, swaying slightly as the shower heated up. As steam started to fill the bathroom, Kristine removed the rest of her clothes, and stepped under the hot water. As she stepped under the water, she shuddered and retched as the tile below her feet turned red. When the last of the red water had drained, she scrubbed herself almost raw. She felt sick, retched again, and then was sick. It was about forty-five minutes before she could finally leave the bathroom. She got dressed, bagged the blood-stained clothes and sheets, and took them to the dumpster in the back of the building. She was lifting the lid when she heard a rustle; the clanking of bottles. Her heart immediately began to pound as she whipped around, fully expecting to see a neighbor, or a cop, or someone. She was relieved when a brown and white tabby cat made its way around the recycling bins along the side of the building.

Shit, that scared me, she thought, turning back to the dumpster. She lifted the lid and tossed the bag in, finally breathing a sigh of relief. She went back upstairs, poured some bleach down the drain in the shower, and went back to the bedroom. She rummaged around her closet and found new sheets, and put them on the bed. Feeling a sudden wave of exhaustion, Kristine fell into her bed and passed out.

***

When she awoke the next day, Kristine felt disoriented for a moment. As the fog of sleep began to lift, she began to remember what had happened.

Waking up, head throbbing.

Blood.

Blood everywhere.

Cleaning the blood off herself.

Dumping the clothes – which were probably evidence of something – in the dumpster out back.

She still had a gaping hole in her memory, though. What the hell had happened during those missing nine hours?

‘You still haven’t figured it out, love?’ the same seductive voice from the other day asked.

“Wh-what?” Kristine stammered.

‘I’m the one who took care of everything. You know, our problem with April and Joseph.’

“What?” Kristine all but yelled, “What happened?”

‘Oh, I just took care of the problem for us. She was easy of course. Weak. Like the dirty little slut she is, she just took it; not even an ounce of fight in her. It was really quite poetic: I strangled that little bitch with her own skanky green bra before I carved her up. The look on her face was beautiful – sheer, unmasked terror. Oh, I wish you could have been there, my love! You would have loved it.’

Kristine was horrified; this voice had just admitted to murdering April in cold blood. To top it all off, this voice sounded proud!

‘Of course I’m proud!’ the voice said, ‘and stop referring to me as “the voice”. You know damn well who I am. We’ve been together for a very long time.’

Suddenly, a wave of revelation washed over her: “No… it can’t be. Elvira? You were my imaginary friend twenty years ago! How is this even possible?”

‘It’s because you get so jealous. Remember when your eyes turned green? Do you remember what color eyes you gave me all those years ago? Over the years, I gave you the courage to get to where you are. But when you just rolled over and let April walk all over you, I had to step in. You should be thanking me!’

“Thanking you!?” Kristine shouted, “you murdered someone with my body!”

‘Not “someone”, love,’ Elvira’s voice was back to its usual seductive smoothness, ‘a dirty, cheap whore, and a nasty, cheating, pig of a man!’

Kristine felt her heart speed up. “No…Joseph…you didn’t. You couldn’t!”

‘Honey, he was with April. Of course, he tried to tell me he wasn’t, but I knew; I could tell. He was so fearful when he saw me – saw you. He knew he was caught in his disgusting lie. He fought harder than his little whore, though…he even managed to push you away. How’s your back, by the way, love? You hit the banister in his house pretty hard…’

Kristine couldn’t speak. Elvira had hurt – possibly killed – the man she loved. What was going on? Kristine started to move toward her phone when Elvira spoke again:

‘Oh, he’s dead alright. Cut the lying asshole’s tongue out with the same knife I used to carve up his whore. He was so pathetic, trying to beg for your forgiveness with no tongue. He even started crying when he saw you coming with the knife again. The feeling of the knife sinking into his flesh was so good…almost orgasmic! Ooh, it feels so good to get revenge, doesn’t it, love?’

Kristine began sobbing during Elvira’s story. She couldn’t believe this was happening; there was no way this even could happen! How could an imaginary friend even exist? How could she be speaking? Moreover, how could that imaginary friend take over her body?

‘Just stop trying to figure it out, love.’

“Stop talking to me!” Kristine shouted, grabbing her head in confusion, “I want you to go away!”

‘Go away?’ Elvira purred, ‘I’ve only just started taking care of things for you – I have so many plans for all the people who have hurt you over the years.’

Her voice had taken a dangerous edge. It was almost as if she was enjoying the thought of killing people in cold blood! Kristine’s stomach turned at the thought of Elvira using her body to kill more people. There had to be some way to –

‘Stop me?’ Elvira laughed, ‘honey, you can’t do anything for yourself. I’ve always been there giving you strength and courage; desire and drive. You would be nothing without me!’ Her voice had grown icy, barely masking the fury underneath.

Kristine’s stomach clenched. She ran to the bathroom, and was almost immediately sick. She pulled herself up to the sink and splashed water on her face, trying to alleviate the horrible, sick feeling. She looked up at her reflection, and screamed.

Her face had gone pale, her eyes had turned a shocking green, and her hair had grown darker. Her eyes and cheeks looked hollow; there was an unhealthy, skeletal thinness in her once healthy and full face.

‘Does my appearance bother you, my love?’ Elvira all but spit the last two words out, ‘this is what I became after years and years of protecting you and cleaning up your messes!’ Her green eyes were wild in the mirror.

Kristine tried to turn away from the previously beautiful face in the mirror. No sooner had she thought this, than she felt her head wretched back around and held in place. She began to cry again, struggling to look away, but finding her body frozen.

‘NO!’ Elvira shouted, ‘You do not get to look away from me! You have to see what you’ve done!’

Kristine’s head wretched to the side as forcefully as if she had been slapped. Her head was wretched back to the front and held in place.

“Elvira, please stop!” Kristine cried as her body lurched forward, “where are you making me go?” Kristine’s body continued its jerky meander out of the bathroom. “Elvira!”

‘Oh, stop screaming. It’ll all be over soon.’ Elvira’s voice held no trace of its seductive sweetness; it was cold, hard, and menacing.

“O-over? What do you mean, ‘over’?”

‘You know exactly what I mean. This dual life, this charade, this mockery! You’re going away. This is my life now!’

Kristine lurched forward again, finally making her way to the kitchen. She screamed the whole way there – swearing, begging, crying – but was completely unable to stop herself. She was sobbing as she approached the counter.

Her hand reached toward the knife block.

“Elvira, stop!” Kristine shrieked, even as her hand closed around the handle of the knife. The scrape of metal on wood nearly made her sick. She stared down at the blade of the knife, horrified to see that it was already stained with blood.

‘Yes,’ Elvira purred, ‘even more poetic. I’m going to cut you out of this life with the same knife I used on the other two. Just think of it as a way to be close to that cheating son-of-a-bitch you loved one more time.’

Without another word or a trace of hesitation, Elvira brought the knife across Kristine’s wrist; her shrieks of pain and terror doing nothing to stop it. Elvira brought the knife to bear again and again, cutting Kristine’s wrists to the bone. Kristine stopped screaming, and eventually grew silent, tears streaming down her face. As the darkness took her, she heard the faint sound of Elvira’s seductive laughter.

***

The ambulance screeched to a halt in front of the apartment complex, paramedics already jumping out, almost before the vehicle had stopped. As they rushed into the apartment, the last bits of breath left Kristine’s lungs. They say that you can tell the moment someone dies; there is a light in their eyes that fades into nothingness. The paramedics arrived moments after that light fled from Kristine’s eyes. The first responder, Jack Mitchell, was a rookie paramedic who rushed off to the corner to be sick. His partner, Elmer Rosenberg, had been a paramedic for twenty-seven years, and still nearly lost the contents of his stomach. When they arrived, Kristine was already dead – both wrists slashed to the bone and blood everywhere. As the paramedics tried to resuscitate her, the fire truck that had rolled with the ambulance left, and the police arrived and started interviewing the woman who heard Kristine’s bone-chilling screams.

“…ack. I have a pulse! It’s shallow, but it’s there,” Jack cried, his fingers pressed tight to Kristine’s throat. Jack and Elmer had been working on Kristine for just over eight minutes, trying everything in the book to revive her before the ten-minute mark. “Pulse is stronger now. It looks like she’s coming back. Ma’am? Can you hear me?”

Her eyes fluttered open, staring up into the two faces hovering over her; brilliant green eyes, with black flecks that looked like swirls.

“Of course I can hear you, love,” she purred through her oxygen mask.

“Can you tell me where you are? What happened?”

“I’m in my apartment, and I was attacked by my terrible, terrible sister. Is she here? Oh God, please tell me she’s not here!”

“There’s no one in the apartment except us. We’ll tell the police. Just a couple more questions: what’s your name?”

“My name? Well, my legal name is Kristine McCarroll, but I usually go by Elvira.”

“Okay, Elvira, you’re going to be just fine. We’re going to get you to the hospital.”

“Thank you, love. I know everything will be just perfect.”