The things we do when we are alone show up at times on their own.  Enjoy Part 4.    


JENNIFER SAT UP NEXT to Peaches.  She needed to pull herself together.  Whoever killed Peaches was a threat to her family.  They were more of an animal than Peaches ever was.  What if they were still in the house?  That murderer may still be waiting to make a surprise attack on her.  It was then that she knew what she had to do.  She had to find the killer.  Go room to room and find him or them.

If someone was inside the house, she needed a weapon.  She did not have a gun.  She and her husband did not believe in having guns around their children.  Knitting needles?  They would work.  It had been so long since she knitted.  Where were they?  She needed something.  It had to be something that caused severe harm to another.  The same way the killers did to Peaches.      

Her eyes settled on the knife sticking out of Peaches’ side.  She grabbed the knife, bit her lip, shut her eyes, and snatched it out.  The thought of what she had done filled her mouth with saliva.  It took her thirty seconds or so to calm herself.  She then got to her feet and became dizzy.  She braced herself against the wall.  “Alright,” she whispered.  “Where are you?  You damn murderer.”

Jennifer stumbled down the stairs.  She intended to be quiet and sneaky.  She was neither.  But she was slowly feeling better.  At the bottom of the stairs she stopped and listened.  Did she hear someone in the family room? 

She swallowed and ran into the family room.  The knife cut through the air as she swung it.  Swinging the knife and moving fast left her dizzy again.  But she could see well enough.  Nothing appeared out of place.   

Jennifer squeezed the knife and went quietly through the house.  Leaning to her right she could see the front door.  It was locked.  She then ran to the back door, wobbling as she did.  It, too, was locked.

The locked doors baffled her.  They were locked from the inside.  That meant the person had to be still inside the house.  She checked the kitchen.  Drawers were open.  Spoons, forks, knives, broken dishes were on the floor.  Why hadn’t she heard all this destruction? 

Maybe her theory was right.  They did drug her and rape her and tried to rob her.  Peaches scared them and tried to protect her.  That was when they killed her.  The bedrooms, she thought.  They are in the bedrooms. 

She ran back to the hallway and stopped and looked down it.  Three bedrooms were on the right.  She rushed inside each one.  She wielded the knife with the intent to kill.  No pausing.  Catch them off guard, if she could. 

No one was inside the bedrooms.  It was a letdown.  She wanted revenge.    

She went back upstairs.  Maybe she should call the police.  Why didn’t she think of that earlier?  Yes.  She would call the police.  But first she needed to think.  She stood over Peaches and stared down at her. 

Things were not adding up.  Something was off.  But she was having trouble grasping it.  Whatever they drugged her with was distorting her ability to think.  A little voice inside her head was saying things she did not want to hear.  She was trying to ignore it.  But it was not going away.  It started the moment she yanked the knife out of Peaches.  It was a soft whisper. 

You’re the only one here.  Does this seem odd?  Are you sure you didn’t do all this?  Are you in denial?  Some people do things that they would rather forget.

“No!” she yelled and clamped her hands over her ears.

Happiness is often ruined by our own hands. 

There is one more part to this story.

Enjoy your week.

I’ll see you tomorrow.

Stephen Wallace     

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