Last Night

ONE

                                                                                RICHARD

He looked outside. It was drizzling making the windows hazy. He couldn't see the lake. The entire place was covered in mist. Richard Hughes was outside after a long time. He was surprised, as the living room, however untidy it was felt a familiar longevity that he never thought he could experience again. The manor had been a home to him for as long as he could remember. It was his home.  The magnificent estate was a thing of beauty, dripping in mist and dew just like something out of a romantic honeymoon. He felt a tingle of erection thinking about the past two weeks. It had been hypnotic and passionate. He smiled. He couldn't believe that he was grinning like a fool after all that's happened. He shook his head and turned and looked at the mantelpiece above the fireplace. Her picture was encased in a small wooden portrait. 

The erection subsided as a wave of guilt overcame him. Perhaps what happened was just a mistake. He didn't mean to do what he did. Sarah would forgive him, he hoped. She should. Maybe she won't. There was no way to be certain. Then again, would she still talk to him after all that's happened?. That was the big question.

Richard moved away from the window and on towards the foyer. He passed the large table directly underneath the second floor. Richard had wondered why it was kept there. He didn't know. He had no way of knowing why. Maybe it existed solely for him and Sarah. He smiled as he remembered having sex with Sarah on it last week. It was midnight as they crept downstairs for a late night cup of coffee. On the way back from the kitchen, he found it kinky to take her right there in the living room of a large manor. She didn't comply at first, but eventually gave in. He could feel the bulge in his pajamas again. He took his mind off of Sarah. He had other things to do first. He started pacing the manor, pondering in his thoughts. His mind was blank. He had a lot to take care of, but here he was. In his pajamas. He looked outside again. Will the police be here soon? They couldn't enter though, he made sure to lock the gates as soon as it happened. No one in, no one out. 

First things first, he had to take care of the body. Then he would talk to Sarah. He didn't get to speak properly with her last night. He would sit down and explain everything. Why things had to happen the way it did.  A loud scream broke through the air. Sarah? Was she...

He looked up the stairs. He slowly crept up the stairs gripping the banister. He stopped at the entrance to the main bedroom. The closet door was ajar, where the body lay on the floor covered in a white cloth. A woman stood over it. It was Janet, their maid. Janet lived in a small cottage down the garden. She couldn't have heard what went down last night. Richard hid behind a pillar, out of sight. She couldn't see him in such a situation. How the hell did she get in anyways? Through the back door perhaps, as he was loitering around the kitchen and the living room. Did they always leave the backdoor open for people to meander about in their house? Fuck! He should've locked it. Didn't matter anymore. He slowly walked backwards, careful not to make a sound. The guest bedroom was just around the corner. He could hide in the closet and wait until Janet's gone. Janet would probably call the police, assuming they hadn't been informed already. Then what?

He still crept backwards onto the guest bedroom. His hands traced along the wooden banister. The second floor was a good level above the first. He looked at the main door downstairs. Should he try to run? No. Too risky. A familiar smell took up his nose as he entered the guest bedroom. He realized that he hadn't been here in over two weeks. He ignored the smell. BLIP! His head turned startled. It was a cell-phone left upon the nightstand. Richard rushed to get it before Janet could be alerted. He took the cell-phone and hurried on to the closet. Muted it. He waited with bated breath. Did she hear it? He knew how the phone got in here. He was glad he found it though, 'cause he could check if Sarah had called the cops. He slipped in and closed the door. His breath was now  whiffing in the confined space. Sweat ran down his forehead as he tried to calm down. He can get through this. He knew it. The phone lit up the closet. He looked down. The lock screen showed Sarah, her golden locks blowing in the wind frozen to a snapshot that accentuated her beauty even more. Her arm was around someone. He peered closely. Richard's own face looked back at him. Or was it? The man's face was hardly recognizable anymore. Looking at the face, his mind drifted to the person who's body lay comatose and bloody in the main bedroom.