Eeny Meeny

58

Caroline was sinking deeper and deeper into Hell. And the lifeless corpse of Martina was her personal demon leading the way. However much Caroline shut her eyes, turned her back, screamed, shouted, wept and wailed, the sound of Martina’s silent accusation was impossible to block out.

Worse was the sound of laughter. The laughter of the evil bitch who had set this all up. She had made them a promise. She had said that if one of them… Caroline wept some more, but they were dry tears now. There was nothing more to give.

The whole thing had been a con. The woman was long gone. And Caroline? Caroline had killed a girl. An innocent girl and what was her reward? Death.

Perhaps she should kill herself? A weird elation punched through her. She stalked around the cellar looking for a means to her end. She could hang herself with Martina’s clothes, except… there was nothing to hang from. The ceiling was smooth, the room unfurnished. There were no sharp edges and nothing to fashion into a weapon. Crazily, she soon found herself clawing at the bullet hole – come out, you bastard! – before giving up and descending once more into despair.

Then without warning a key turned in the lock and the door swung open.

‘Well done, Caroline.’

She could hear her, but she couldn’t see her. For a moment, Caroline was frozen to the spot. Her tormentor had reappeared and fear gripped her completely.

But nothing happened. Was the woman still there? It didn’t look like it and she couldn’t hear her. Suddenly Caroline was on her feet and heading to the door. If the woman was still there, she’d wring her bloody neck. Bring it on! But then suddenly in the midst of her charge to freedom, Caroline stopped. And turned.

Martina. There she was, lifeless and still. Two of them had arrived, now only one was leaving. Caroline stood on the threshold. Whilst she remained inside she was a victim. Once she stepped outside, she was a murderer.

But what choice did she have? To live she must embrace her crime. So she stumbled through the doorway.

She was at the bottom of a flight of stairs. Light poured down from above – through some sort of trapdoor – temporarily blinding her. Once more, she hesitated. Was her abductor waiting above? Slowly, steadily, she climbed the creaking stairs. She emerged into a sea of brightness.

She was alone. Alone in the body of a decaying house. A big one. Unloved and unwanted, just as Caroline had always been. And yet right at this moment, she loved this house. Its light, its emptiness, her liberty. She could walk in any direction, without fear, without compulsion. She was once more master of her fate.

She started to snigger. Before long she was howling with laughter – wild, raucous, crazy laughter. She had survived!

Still laughing, she marched over to the front door. Wrenching it open, she struggled up the short garden path and through the gate, back on to the bustling city streets.