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Splendid Danger

By Nathanya van Nijnatten All Rights Reserved ©

Romance / Horror

Splendid danger

Two months ago, there was nothing to worry about. Life always went on with no problems. And then, suddenly, everything changed...

Is it really only two months ago? Time has done something strange. The overview is lost and there is no rhythm in my days.

I love the summer, I thrive best by sun, heat and light, I love the long days and short nights full of stars. What I can remember particularly well from two months ago is my longing for warmth and languid, lazy days. Days to lie in the grass and do nothing. To smell the scents of summer and nothing else. That was all I wanted.

It's still early, but it appears to be another glorious day.

The sun draws a challenging narrow strip along the flower bed in the garden. All buttons in the rose bushes are bursting. The fat cat of the neighbor is purring on the couch under my kitchen window. I’m looking at the sunscreen across the street and mumble something in myself. He's not there. Where could he be? With her? I close my eyes and go back to two months ago, when I was someone else than I am today;

Slowly I wake up and stretch. The warmth of my blanket is still on my body, but the sun is up and it pulls me out of my bed. It promises to be a beautiful summer day. I just don’t know where I am until I realize it; I'm in that new place. I'm getting breakfast, which is alright; only the milk tastes funny so I leave it as it is. Then I go wandering around the new house to explore all areas. Yesterday we got here. My roommates and me.

They really didn't liked me to come with them, but out of compassion they have let me anyway. I know very well why it is, it's the baby that is coming. Because off that little monster they don’t need me anymore, but I haven’t got anywhere else to go so they let me stay. Gently a growl escapes from my throat, I don’t know if its sadness or anger, I think it’s a bit of both. Weird, I don’t recognize myself at all anymore.

When I'm done with my walk through the house I'm sitting down on top of the dinner table, just because I feel like it and my roommates disapprove of it. I see the awakening street. A child playing just outside until the school bus comes and people who rush to their work. And then. . . I see Him. Wonderful he is. Muscular, tall and macho and I think he’s found handsome. I know immediately certainly; I love him!

An hour later, the street is empty. Trying to not wake up my housemates, I sneak out of the house gently and walk the street up and down a few times. Every time I pass his door I watch it from corner of my eye. When I walk pass it the third time, I can’t resist the temptation and step into the garden. I try to be as unobtrusive as possible and take a look through the window and see typical men's house. Fortunately, I think, he’s single.

The next days I watch him closely. Sometimes I pretend to be working in the garden, and sometimes I’m enjoying the sun in front of the house. He always smiles when he sees me. In his gaze I see that he finds me beautiful. That I'm used to because everyone thinks so off course. Yet I feel jitters when he looks at me. He does not talk to me, no, nothing of it. I think he is very shy, it’s very cute. So I survive the days. I make sure to be close as he goes to work and comes home.

Two weeks later I’m being tapped lightly on the back. I look through the window and see Jesse, the neighbor. I met her when I walked into the backyard someday and she saw me through the fence. We hit it off immediately and from that day we speak briefly to each other every day. ‘That long guy from across the road has met a girlie,’ she told me, beaming.

Jesse is the gossip of the neighborhood. She knows everything and knows it is the first, although she ensures that soon everyone finds out the news. ‘Excuse me,’ I say and pretend I didn’t hear her. My stomach is a brick. ‘Well, that tall one from the other side. Your neighbor. He did meet a lassie ten days ago. She is still a baby, much younger than ourselves. Soon she comes to live with him, they say.’ She nods gently and licking a drop of water from her nails. ‘I love him. Does she not see that I am painfully surprised? And me? I think to myself, what about me than?

The next week I’m modeling my hair when I see something moving in the corner of my eyes. When I look up I see him stepping out of his car. My attention is drawn, because it is much earlier than normal. He walks to the other side of the car and opens the door. When he turns around my eyes can’t believe what their seeing. I feel pain in my teeth, and I realize that I’m biting them very hard. Only now I see her. She is small, smaller than I am. Compared to my lush dark hair she is a reddish blond. She is hideous and I decide, I can’t understand what he sees in her. ‘Well sweetie,’ I whisper softly ‘it's war.’ My hate is aroused, for he is mine. . .

It's the weekend, so he is not going to work. I hardly see him outside while it is high summer and when he leaves he comes back with gifts for her. I push my nails deep into my skin and try to kill her with my thoughts. What doesn’t work off course? Fortunately, it is Monday fast enough and he goes back to his job. Of course she does nothing and stays at home all day. I decide to take my chance.

I walk carefully to the back of his house. His house where the bitch now lives in. At my place. To my surprise, the back door is not closed and I can sneak inside. She's not here, she's "out." The whole house has been converted into a paradise for her. This should all be mine, I think.

I get an idea. I go to the garden and walk through the dirt. Then I sneak back inside and be sure to let filthy prints behind everywhere. I break some things here and there: an expensive-looking vase, a mug that’s on the countertop with a little coffee left in it, his laptop. When I see the result, I am satisfied; white lamb rug, leather sofa and the entire wooden floor is covered under the spots (clearly done by a woman), and the rest is a rampage. Smiling, I walk out of the house.

I make sure I'm in our front yard when he comes home; it is not strange that I am because the sun is still shining so powerful after all. In no time I hear him screaming at her. I try to go a little closer to the front door and listen through the mailbox. I hope that there are no other neighbors passing by, but I just need to hear how he divorces her.

From her, I hear only a soft squeak. Suddenly a silence. Then he sounds warm, a loving voice "don’t that again, okay sweetie. Come here,’ than a soft laugh ‘I love you too.’ I must restrain my anger and run to my house. Here tougher measures are needed.

Two days later I get a chance. He’s at work and I see her walk away. I have to hurry because she never goes far. I shoot out of the house and run to his backdoor that once again is open and go inside. If I live here, we change that lock, I decide.

I'm in the house again as smoothly as before. Well her unmistakable scent is in the air. I sit on the couch and think about what I can do. I see a new, expensive statue of a dancer on the mantelpiece and smile. ‘Okay round two,’ I laugh out loud. I stand up and push it off the ledge. With a bang the statue lays broken on the ground, splinters flying in all directions. ‘Oops,’ I whisper with a voice I do not recognize. The next ten minutes, I'm focusing on a total mess. The flat screen TV is "accidentally" falling off the wall, and is hanging on a few threads. In the couch deep cuts are made and pen-scratching adorn the sides and back.

Suddenly I heard a noise behind me, turn quickly. I freeze when I see her. Her eyes are wide and look at me anxiously, ‘You, you, you,’ she stammers. I understand that I have all power over her and lean over to her, ‘I what?’

‘You did this, not me,’ she sobs. Internally I laugh my ass off because she did not dare to look at me. ‘Prove it, honey,’ I whisper in her ear and then I walk out the house without looking back.

Nothing. No screaming, no arguing. Nothing. I spent two days sitting at the window, barely slept. But nothing happens. Well, something happens; a new TV came and a new sofa. But she is still there. How is that possible, I wonder what she has used for an excuse to save herself? I will never know. What I do know is that she is still there. At my place.

That afternoon as I walked back and forth through the streets, I hear His voice. He has come out and is talking now with that fatty who lives next to him. ‘Well, she's just lonely when I'm not there I think. She is so young, and then she sits at home all day with nothing to do. Fortunately, I can work from home and she also does her own thing around the house. Actually, I find that very comfortable. Now we sit together in the sun all day.’ The neighbor laughs, I can’t hear what he replays, but he shakes his head slightly in disbelief, his gray Persian cat, also fat, shrugs around his legs. I feel foolish. I'll never get rid of her, I wish she would die. At the moment I know it's true. . . I want her to die.

I open my eyes. Two months ago I was someone else. I was loving and beautiful. And now I'm a murderess. I might have not really taken a life yet, but in my heart she is already dead. I spent the past few days only for trying to invent a good plan. I invented all sorts of useful scheming to take care of her death, but they were all based too much on coincidence.

Ideally I wanted to push her under a car, but so that it seemed as if she had walked underneath. I realized that was too difficult. Not only did I have to get her in the right place, but also ensure that a car drove down the street at the same time.

Then I thought of rat poison in her drink or food. But who guaranteed me that he wouldn’t accidentally eat of drank it and got sick. If he only sipped in a drop. . . I didn’t want to think about it. No, I realized that if I wanted her dead, I would have to do it all by myself, without any tools. I just need to make sure that I can’t be caught. All supporting materials must be removed, for me to succeed. Tomorrow is the day. One way or another, her life ends tomorrow.

In hindsight I know I was naive. Life was not a movie, which provided a murderess with a dead body without being caught. I just was not smart enough to commit a perfect crime. And by God, it’s been so hot this week. I just could not think straight.

Also I didn’t expect the fiery rage that took over me when I saw her. I can’t remember the actual moment. One eye blink I was standing in front of her in His backyard and the next moment she lied dead beneath me with a cut throat and her body twisted and broken. At that point I started crying with grief because she was young. So impossibly young.

And how he looked at me while I was covered in her blood. The hatred in his eyes burned my heart away, it's that the police held him. He would have ripped me apart. That’s what I read in those beautiful eyes of his. I did not make a sound when I was discharged. I could only look at him, for that emptiness in his eyes.

I know I will soon get the death penalty and that's fine. He do not love me, I have nothing to live for.

‘Mr. van Crowley?’ said Dr. Bonner to Tom ‘I've never seen anything like this before.’ Tom sobbed softly, stroking the soft red hair. Never again would she be beside him on the couch, never on his bed. He never expected to be able feel so much love for another living being. It surprised him because she had only come so recently in his live, he could never have imagined that the parting would hurt so much already.

Dr. Bonner cleared his throat and continued, ‘Last week there was a dead bat found in the area, we will investigate whether there is rabies in the game. But perhaps, maybe she just had mental problems.’ Tom nodded. It didn’t mean anything, it didn’t matter. Flora was dead and no one could bring her back. All he wanted was the She did penance for what she had done to Flora.

Kate and Peter from across stopped him when he wanted to enter his empty house. He wasn’t really aware of it because he kept thinking about Flora's stuff he had to clean up. That thought hurt. It took a while for Tom realized that Kate and Peter had said something. ‘Sorry?’ He asked softly as he squeezed his eyes shut for the bright summer sun.

‘We're terribly sorry,’ Kate cried softly, her hand gently stroked her belly filled with baby. ‘We never thought that Moira would do such a thing,’ continued Peter ‘She was always so sweet and cozy. It was since we moved and decorating the nursery she changed. I think she was very jealous of our child already. We obviously shall compensate you for your loss.’ Tom shook his head. He wanted, only getting Flora back.

Kate opened her green eyes and looked at Tom; a tear ran down her cheek. She gasped for air 'who would have thought that an ordinary house cat could do such a thing?’

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