Dark Times

Dark Times

A Story by steve
"

A woman alone in the house is terrorised by an intruder.

"

Dark Times


She awoke, covered in cold sweat. The light from the moon shone through the window. The clock on the bedside cabinet read 2.56am. Still hours until morning. Mary needed something to drink as her mouth was very dry. Reluctantly she put her dressing gown on, as it felt chilly. Then making her way to the kitchen, she opened a cupboard to get a glass. Turning on the cold tap she all of a sudden heard a noise coming from down the hall. What the hell was that? She dropped the glass and it smashed on the floor. Mary tried to step over the shattered glass so she wouldn't injure herself, when another sound came from down the hall, causing her to lose concentration. Immense pain was felt coming from her left foot. Peering at it she could see a long piece of shiny glass stuck in the lower part of the sole. She swore under her breath, angry with herself for being so foolish. Using her thumb and finger she got hold of it, then as quick as she could pulled it out. The pain was unbearable as it shot up her leg. Mary lost her balance and fell clumsily, looking up, she saw a figure standing at the end of the hallway. The light wasn't on in that particular area so it was hard to see his or her's face. Mary's heart raced. She was terrified.
"What do you want from me?" she asked, knowing it could only be bad news. Recently there had been a lot of burglaries in the Norfolk area. She kept her eyes on the person as they brandished a shiny long object from their coat pocket. "I have money. Take what you want, but please don't hurt me," she begged, her hands together like she was praying.
The person laughed, it sounded like a man. He came closer while he said, "I'm not interested in your money. But I do need something else from you, Mary? Good old Mary living in a quiet village, keeping herself to herself, away from any danger. Or so you thought."
She didn't know what to think, what the hell was going on? She tried to get up but the amount of blood on the floor made it very difficult. Also her foot hurt terribly. Grabbing hold of the worktop she gritted her teeth, and keeping both feet firmly on the floor so they wouldn't slide she slowly stood up. "Now get out of my house," she yelled, not taking it anymore.
He took a couple of steps and slight light from outside caught his face. Mary couldn't believe it, how was this possible? "Why would you do this to me?"
He got something out of his trouser pocket, then a strong light shone directly into her face.
"Why are you doing this?" she pleaded. "What did I do to deserve this?"
Putting the torch down onto the worktop, he waved the knife just above her head. "Even now you're playing me. I just can't believe you," he yelled, angry as can be. He put the blade against her throat. "Are you quaking in your boots yet, love?"
She peered up at him, disgusted with his behaviour. "You should be ashamed of yourself."
He couldn't believe it, she was so full of s**t. He Peirced her throat with the blade and she fought back. He got hold of her hands and tied them together with rope. He knew what she was like, slippery as hell. "Where is he?" he asked, needing to know. He'd promised his wife you see. That is the reason he was here. To find out the truth.
Mary seemed concerned about something, and looked away from him. After some seconds, she replied, "I don't know what you are talking about."
He'd had enough of this now. He pulled her up from the floor, and dragged her into the living room, pushing her onto the sofa, where she seemed far from happy. "Where is he?" he shouted, wanting an answer fast.
"Just piss off, you're in too deep. You can't handle this. So do yourself a favour and just leave," she said back, getting more irritable by the minute.
The man stood up wiping his brow not knowing what to think. Then he felt the urge to ask her something which he'd dreaded for so long. "Is my son still alive?"
Mary was completely shocked. "Is this why you are here? Because of the delusions you suffer from, now you think your psychiatrist is to blame for your son's death."
The man seemed angry as he picked up some magazines then flung them at the TV. "You do this on purpose don't you. I know the game you play. I'm the only one who knows. Because I know your vile secret. Am I right or am I right?"
She was getting really annoyed now, also her mouth was so dry it felt like sandpaper. "Nathan, I understand what you're saying. You're confused, and you blame me for your son's disappearance. I can understand that. But why would I harm your son? You came to me, don't you remember, because of your son you seeked help from me. Are you taking your pills, Nathan?"
The man looked down at the floor, agitated. He rubbed his chest countless times as he didn't know what to do with himself. After a few minutes he glanced at her, confusion on his face. Then he said softly, "I haven't been taking my pills for a few days now, and sometimes things get jumbled up in my head. Does that make sense, Mary?"
She was absolutely exhausted, but with as much calmness as realistically possible, she answered, "Just untie me, Nathan. Then I can give you the right pills to take all the paranoia away. How does that sound?"
He seemed relieved by that news and untied her straightaway. Once she was in a standing position, he put a hand on her shoulder and pleaded her to forgive him.
"Just give me the knife, Nathan. And I promise you everything will be okay. I'll fetch you the pills as quickly as I can, to make you all better."
He smiled, realising he'd messed up. He untied the ropes.
She picked up the knife and plunged it deep into his throat. Blood poured down her arms. His body fell to the floor.
What a night, she kept thinking. How the hell am I supposed to get rid of the body? She picked up the phone, knowing exactly who to call.
.............................................................................

Half an hour later there was a knock from the entrance of the house. Mary knew what was coming, and wasn't looking forward to it one bit. Taking a deep breath she opened the door. A man called John stood there looking far from pleased. He wore a mask to conceal his identity.
"I don't understand what's going on, Mary? I thought this was happening tomorrow night, but then one of my men gets a call from you, saying you've killed an intruder. What the hell is going on?"
Mary felt stressed. She ran a hand through her long dark hair, before saying nervously, "I know, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to mess the plan up. But this man broke in and attacked me. I was so scared."
John walked into the house to see what the hell was going on. He looked furious. The moment he saw the body he let out a massive sigh. "For god sake, Mary. This is bad. Who the hell is he?" he asked, rubbing his forehead obsessively.
"Remember the blonde boy from a few weeks back, that's the father. I could tell he was getting suspicious some days back. He kept asking me questions about his son."
John walked to the body, using his foot he softly kicked the head area. "Wake up, idiot."
"What's the point of that?" she said. " He's deader than dead."
He turned to her, "Now time for business. Where's the kid?"
"In the usual place. Follow me."
In the wide hallway was a door which she unlocked. She opened it, then proceeded down the stairs. He followed. Once in the room with only a single light, she pointed to a cage. Inside was a boy about ten years old. He looked petrified. He stared at them. He started to cry, "Please don't hurt me."
Mary felt sorry for him, but what he didn't realise was, he was going to a better place, unlike the horrible parents she saved him from. Through her years of being a psychiatrist she'd encountered some awful people. All she wanted to do was help these children. In a strange sort of way what she was doing would be looked upon as evil and callous. In her mind she was saving these poor souls from years of misery and neglect.
"I have an idea, Mary. But I don't think you'll like it. You do realise you have made this situation very stressful for me," John said, giving her one of those looks which filled her with dread. "Please, John. It wasn't my fault. How many years have I delivered the children from terrible backgrounds to you, so you can sell them to the rich for a very good price."
John had made his mind up. "Just see it from my perspective, the man dead in your living room suspected you. Why was that? See, that's what scares me. Maybe you aren't up for the job anymore, maybe the money I pay you has made you a bit too confident? Do you see what I'm saying."
Mary was desperate. "Please, John. I promise it won't happen again. I don't understand how it happened. Every time he came to me I tried to explain that sometimes in life these horrible things happen."
John knew what he needed to do next, he was a nice bloke, he liked Mary. But this situation he faced was a nightmare. What else has this man said to other people, when he thought his psychiatrist was maybe to blame for his son's disappearance? Utter nightmare.
"I have an idea. I can see a toolbox over there on the table. Fetch it for me and we should be able to get rid of the body without any hassle. Do you like that idea?"
"Yes, that sounds perfect," was all she said, seeming relieved.
The moment she wasn't looking in his direction, he smacked her hard around the head with a brick from a nearby shelf. She fell to the ground. She didn't move. He felt her pulse. She was still alive. Good. John peered at the kid. He took the mask off. The boy seemed upset. "I'm not going to hurt you. By the way what's your name?"
"Charlie," was all he replied. Tears streaming down his face.
"Give me an honest answer, kid. What are your parents like, do you like them?"
"What do you mean?"
John needed to be more tactful. "You have two choices, kid. Come with me and end up with a family that loves you for who you are, or go back to your parents. It's your decision, mate. We haven't got much time."
The child seemed confused by the decision he had to make. When finally, he answered, "I love my parents dearly, but they're aggressive towards me, which scares me a lot. Sometimes I have trouble sleeping thinking dad will come in drunk, as mum is always complaining about it, and to be honest she's not much better."
John felt tearful, as his childhood wasn't much better. "Come with me, kid. And I promise you everything will be better. Do you trust me, kid?"
"I'm not sure. Why did you hurt that woman? In a strange sort of way she was kind to me."
John felt bad, "Yeah, I know what you are saying, but she messed up. She isn't dead. But she needs to learn how to play the game. I'm sorry you had to see that."
"Can I come with you please, as I can tell there is something about you that I trust. Does that sound weird?"
He liked this kid. "Yeah, sure. Let's get you out of that cage. You're a brave kid. I'm proud of you."
John knew where the key was as he'd seen Mary get it plenty of times. He unlocked the cage and the child ran out. "Thank you, mister."

.............................................................................

John drove down the darkened road, the child sat beside him. Before he'd left the house a phone call to the police telling them about something he had witnessed earlier, while he walked his dog, involving the woman who lived there and another bloke, caused the law enforcers to take immediate action. He gave a false name. Job complete.
"So, kid. How would you like to live with me? I live in another country where it's always hot. I have a lovely wife and she's always wanted chiildren. How about it, it's your decision?"
"Yes, that sounds very nice, but why me?" he asked, not really understanding why this stranger was being so kind to him.
"Because I like you, kid," he replied. "Now let's get on, as we have plenty of miles to travel. Also I miss my wife's cooking."
The boy laughed. At that moment John realised everything was going to be okay.

The End


© 2018 steve


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Added on May 15, 2018
Last Updated on May 15, 2018

Author

steve
steve

Norwich



About
Hi, I hope you enjoy my short stories. I've been writing for sometime now, and thoroughly enjoy it. To be honest, I find it quite addictive. Even when I'm at work I am thinking about the next story.. more..

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