The Secret Friend

72

Walter shoved her up against the wall and jammed the stump of his disfigured hand against her mouth. 'Say one word and I'll lock you in the dark with no food. Do you want that? Do you?'

Hannah shook her head.

The doorbell rang again. Looking past his horribly scarred face, she saw the basement steps leading up to an opened door; saw kitchen cabinets and the ceiling of another room. Less than a dozen steps. If only she wasn't handcuffed…

What if the police were at the door?

Bite his hand, get it away from your mouth and scream DO IT.

Walter yanked her away from the wall, spinning her around and wrapping his arm around her throat, squeezing as he dragged her back down the hallway. She couldn't breathe and she couldn't fight him. He was too strong.

He stepped up next to the card reader. It beeped and he pressed 2 followed by 4 and 6. She didn't see the last number.

The door opened. Walter shoved her inside. Hannah tripped and fell against the floor. A moment later, the room went dark. Hannah hugged her knees close to her chest and rocked back and forth, trying to stifle her tears. Walter grabbed the.22 Bulldog from the kitchen cabinet. He kept the gun behind his back as he moved inside the living room and looked through the window.

Standing on his front porch was a heavyset woman bundled up in a bulky winter coat, hat and scarf. Walter didn't recognize her. She was holding a dish wrapped in tinfoil.

He checked the street and didn't see any cars. His was the only house on this street. He looked back to the woman.

Answer the door or let her leave?

She rang the doorbell again.

The woman smiled as the door opened. The smile faltered a little when she saw his face. It took her a moment to recover.

'Hello, I'm your new neighbour, Gloria Lister.'

Walter didn't answer. He stared at the snow melting against her boots, knowing she was shocked by his face, knowing she was judging him. He wanted to swing the door shut and hide.

When he didn't introduce himself, the woman broke the uncomfortable silence. 'The lights were on, and when I saw your car in the driveway, I thought you were home,' she said. 'I didn't want to leave this pie out here, so I rang the doorbell a few times. It's apple. I'm a baker -'

'I'm allergic to apples.' A lie. He wanted her to leave. Now.

'Oh… okay, well, I'll take it back then.' She waited a moment, and when he didn't answer, she said, 'I didn't mean to disturb you. Have a good night.'

Walter slammed the door shut. He put on the padlocks and shut off all the lights. He felt dizzy.

He should have said hello. He should have taken the pie. Tomorrow, when his new neighbour went to work, she would tell all her friends at the bakery about her strange neighbour, the man with the ugly, scarred face. I was glad to go, really, he looked like a monster, Gloria would say, and they would all have a good laugh. People would talk. Word would get around – it always did in small towns – and sooner or later the police would get wind of Gloria Lister's strange neighbour who didn't invite her inside his home, who left her standing outside in the cold with her pie. Maybe the police would pay him a visit, decide to come inside and take a look around. You never knew.

He should have at least said hello.

Using the wall for support, he stumbled into the living room and looked out the window again, watching his new neighbour carefully manoeuvring her way over the icy patches on the street. Walter wondered what it would be like to invite a woman inside his house. That would be a first.