Sweet Little Pains

11

Clare had been finishing up a call with her son when a faint knock sounded on her door. Saying a final ‘bye’ to Alex, she waited for him to hang up before she stood from her position in her bedroom, making her way to the front door. 

“Who is it?” She asked, expecting it to be Elizabeth. She was surprised when her enquiry was met with silence. 

“Hello? Who is it?” She tried again, and met with the same result. 

Immediately, she realized who it was.

Swiftly, she returned to her bedroom for the small sheathed knife she always had in the small drawer compartment of  her bedside table.

Unsheathing it, she glanced at the blade, testing it sharpness against her skin without drawing blood, but the glance was driven more from habit than actual necessity. The knife was sharp, sharp enough to easily inflict mortal bodily damage.

She strode back to her front door, then cautiously, opened the door with the knife hidden partially behind her left forearm. There was no one there. A look down the stairs from her position reaffirmed that. There was no one here – at least, not anymore. They had long left.

It was probably just a prank, she thought putting her foot back into her apartment. But just when she was about to shut the door, she realized that there was a package on the ground, a square box covered neatly in a red wrapping sheet, complete with a black bow.

Frowning, Clare bent, inspecting the box without actually making contact with it. What the hell was in it, and who the hell had sent this? It looked neat, pretty even, like a thoughtfully wrapped Valentine’s day present.

Her wariness sky rocketing, she nudged the box with the tip of the knife. It didn’t make a jingling sound, just merely moved an inch away from its previous position. 

Clare had half a mind to leave the package there, or toss it downstairs. She had no idea who the sender was after all, and the aura around it was making her slightly uneasy. But then at that moment, she heard a sound from the stairs. 

Clare stood from her crouching stance watching the stairway in alert preparation. She kept the knife away from view, deciding that she may need the element of surprise on her side. But then Elizabeth Woodwiss ascended the steps, her brows arching high in surprise.

“Waiting for me?” She asked sweetly, “How sweet of you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Clare said, picking the parcel from the ground. “You’re late, by the way.”

“Well unlike you, I work till nine. Factoring in the time it took to get here, I’d say I did alright.” Elizabeth said, her eyes sparking with interest. “What’s that? You got a present?”

She wouldn’t go as far as to call it that. “Come in.” Clare grunted, stepping into the house, package in hand. She sheathed the knife as Elizabeth stepped in, noting silently the curiosity her eyes and steadily ignoring it.

Heading into her room after locking the door, she replaced the knife and set the parcel on the bed before returning to the woman waiting outside.

Elizabeth had removed her cream colored overcoat and was sprawled on the loveseat, her eyes closed. Clare observed her for a moment, taking in her classy, smooth elegant lines, her air of confidence and beauty and felt a momentary prick of irritation. She looked like a damned supermodel.

 “I see you didn’t waste time making yourself at home.” Clare observed dryly.

“Oh, don’t be silly.” Elizabeth said lightly, “Me making myself at home would be getting a drink from your kitchen and using your shower.” She batted her lashes once in a vaguely mocking sweep. “By the way, something to drink would be great. I’m parched.”