
It’s well after one am, and the house is still. Neither Marsha nor my eternal one has moved around for hours. The neighborhood appears completely settled for the night, so very stealthily I leave my hiding spot in the bushes, and furtively make my way toward the rear of the house, where the sliding doors are located. Avoiding the flowerbeds and patio furniture, I’m as graceful as when I took ballet with Marsha as a child. I pry the glass door open, and hurriedly disarm the alarm system, having helped Alex install it earlier this year, I knew the code.
As I carefully slid the door back closed, I heard a growling noise start up behind me. Turning around, I saw Marsha’s overgrown Siamese cat standing atop the kitchen island, staring me down. Most animals did not like me, and this feline was no different. Not wanting the cat to make any more noise and wake the house, I acted quickly, without thinking. I rushed over, grabbed the cat, and twisted his head off with a mighty jerk. The beast let out one loud yowl before I could complete the task, and I stood still, waiting to see if the house would wake up.
When I didn’t hear any movements from upstairs, I dropped the dead animal back on the counter and crept deeper into the house, towards the stairs. I started up the stairs when I heard a ringtone going off, playing a piece of Chopin’s Prelude No. 15, freezing me in my spot. I did not want to be caught before concluding my predestined appointment. Soon a woman’s voice could be heard talking to someone, so I backed down the stairs, and headed towards the nearest doorway to hide in the darkness, hoping whoever was woken by the phone call would soon go back to sleep.
Eventually, all was quiet again in the house, so I left my hiding spot in what turned out to be the formal dining room and began my slow ascension up the stairs. As I ascended I remembered the night I had done the same when I had caught my Aunt Meredith making her plans to send me away all those years ago, when I was nineteen. That night, I had silenced my aunt’s worries for good and left her lying in bed, covered as if in a shroud. Uncomfortably, I grow hard thinking of her lying there still to this day, so I quickly shifted my thoughts back to Freda-Terri-Melody-My everlasting one.
Once I attained the top of the steps, I paused, listening to my surroundings and getting my bearings. I’d never been upstairs in the Cunningham’s house before and was unsure how many rooms there were. Once I was sure no one was up and moving, I headed left, toward my predetermined muse’s room. The first door I came to, I opened, but it was only an extra-large linen closet, holding bedcoverings for the guestrooms. I knew her room was toward the front of the house, so I did not bother with the rooms on my righthand side.
Silently, I crept forward to the next doorway where the door opened to a blue-tiled bathroom with a connecting door to the next room. Trying the door, I found that it was locked, so I returned to the hall, and my quest to find my destined fate. I headed towards the last door on the left-hand side, knowing it would be the one I would need.
Before I could walk five steps, the door to my right opened, and there stood Marsha, busy tying her robe over her nightgown. She looked up at me and gasped out my name, as I quickly rushed to her. Hurriedly, I slapped my hand across her mouth as I pushed her to the wall. As I held her in place with one hand, I pulled my knife out with the other and hastily slipped its blade between her ribs before Marsha could utter another sound. Allowing my old friend’s lifeless body to slide down the wall. Standing still, I listened to the house again before heading to my rendezvous with Providence.
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