Old Windows

The Garden, Again

* 1 Week Later

Mort's health had only grown worse, and Claire's desire to see him dead was surfacing higher and higher. She sat on her impulses and unceasing imagination, all day and all night. She checked the clock that burned in bright red lights 3:45 in the morning and decided to take a final look at his story.

Claire withdrew the laptop from under the mattress and went to that saved file that was menacingly sitting on the side of the home screen. Without mental warning, that same destructive knot that sat within the depths of her, ignored for so long, was now repossessed. Against her will, her mind began to put the pieces together. Just exactly how he might've killed Elise. How he heard her scream, the blood stains he meticulously cleaned from his floors, his thought process that could only be conjured through the very mind of satan. Not to imagine the countless others he's killed along the way, but Claire had no way of finding out who they were. She could only assume they were responsible for Mort's outlandish corn surplus.

While her heart and her mind was locked into the horrors displayed on the bright screen, her heart rate was abruptly accelerated by unusual sounds coming from downstairs. She slammed the screen down and sat up right in her bed.

Keeping every minuscule movement to minimum, she still couldn't hear from the sound of her own heart beat filling her ears and rattling the walls. She covered her mouth to silence the trembling of her breaths quiet as she inched closer to the door to hear.

There were various moans and groans that were in no way patterned, and she still couldn't figure out what the hell was going on. But as she kept her ears attuned to whatever fate was approaching her, Claire's mind instantaneously came to a raging halt. There was an indefinite whisper coming from the bathroom. Her head slowly turned to the door open ajar, beckoning her with something of an indulgence of hope that might've awaited her inside. She walked in, and her eyes locked with the brown hat that sat on the counter for God knows how long. It was like a shark smelling blood, there was no resistance.  Claire placed the hat on her head, and there was an infatuation with the foreboding factor it seemed to offer her. There was power under this hat, and as her head lifted and she saw herself in the mirror she relished all the more in her reflection.

"Very fine Ms.Brown, very fine," she fancied herself.

Her head shot back towards the door when a reverberating whack echoed off the door. There was no more deep inhaling, no more pounding heartbeat. Instead she stood behind the door of the bathroom and waited for the next call.

"Claire are you in there?" Mort's voice called.

She didn't answer but when the door knob began wiggling, she made her way out. Claire opened the door to find Mort on the ground, who must've crawled his way up. As she stood in the doorway, his attention was brought upwards to her new accessory, his familiar friend.

"Can I help you, Mort?" she asked in a southern twang.

"Take that off," he demanded.

"Oh why? I think it looks nice," she smiled.

He couldn't exactly figure out what upset him more. Knowing what was about to happen and he had no real way of stopping it or was it that she was taking new ownership of his prized possessions.

"Take off that go*damn hat right now," he began to try to stand up.

"No I don't think so. But I think you'll wanna watch this," she smirked as she retrieved his laptop from the bed. She bent down to his level on the floor to show it, but at a length where he could only touch it with his own breath, "Remember this? I'm sure you do, but I know who doesn't," she sang, "Starting with Elise maybe, maybe an ex wife, who knows."

Mort lunged at her to grab it when Claire swiftly stood up and backed away all in one motion, "You're not getting this back," she laughed.

Claire made sure Mort was watching as she took a firm grasp of the laptop and swung it as hard as she could against the wall. She laughed manically as the pieces began to crumble and fall to the floor.

Mort wailed in torture, crying out curses that were drowned out by the screeching of her deranged laughter. Over and over she plowed whatever remained of the computer into the wall until it was an unrecognizable pile of metal.

"I've been wanting to do that for a looong time now," she caught her breathe through a pleased grin.

"You are a g**damn b*tch," hissed through his teeth and spit on her shoes.

Claire promptly positioned her foot on top of Mort's neck, pinning him to the ground, earning her some well deserved coughs and struggling breaths from him.

"Ah, ah, ah, I don't think you wanna do that mister. Haven't you ever heard you don't bite the hand that feeds you?" with each word she applied more pressure to her foot.

His words were replaced with gasps before she removed her foot and watched him struggle for air on the floor beneath her, but he still would always manage to insult her, "You never fed me anything, you never gave a sh*t about me."

"Hm, you're probably right Mort, you always were," she smiled.

"So what now, aren't you gonna kill me?" Mort looked up at her.

"Oh I will, just not yet. I think," as Claire was finishing her sentence, she walked out of the bedroom to look through the small window. She bent down and carefully examined the garden below, "Wouldn't you say that's just a perfect spot Mort?"

Having her back turned towards him, she had no time to prepare for what he was doing behind her. Mort wobbled on his broken leg, his mind demanding he be stealthy in his motion, and walked as close as he could without her hearing him. Before she could turn around, Mort propelled himself in the direction of her exposed back and attempted to impale her with a screw driver he kept with him.

Missing the stab by just a few inches, it scraped through her shirt and ran down her spine. She whined in pain as she stood up as quickly as possible to push him off. Claire couldn't help but try to reach her hands behind her and soothe whatever pain she could, but there wasn't much time before Mort came back to strike again. He was going for the foot this time, but Claire's foot was already instinctively heading for his face.

She shoved him back with a fervid kick that sent his head bashing into the floor. He moaned as the screw driver rolled out of his decrepit hands. Claire picked up the hat that fell off her head and delicately placed it back on, walking over to the unattended screw driver. As she picked it up she examined the blood that was glistening off of it, "You got me there Mr.Rainey, that did hurt," He couldn't manage words as only fatigued and feeble groans escaped his lips. 

Before he could catch any breath, Claire lifted her foot high, and when it came down it was landing on Mort's back. She booted him down the staircase as hard as she could and Mort went flying, crashing into the front door. The force of his body caused a small painting to fall off the wall.

She took her time walking down the stairs, never taking her eyes off of him, rejoicing in the pain and power of it all. As she reached the bottom, his body slumped down and revealed a blood stain forming from the back of his head transferred onto the wood of the door.

"Come on Mr.Rainey, let's go," she kicked him out of the way and opened the door.

Stepping over him, she turned around and grabbed him by the arms, dragging him to the garden.

On the, what seemed like a long way there, she spoke through her heavy breathing, "Aren't saying much anymore huh?" she laughed as all he could do was cough up blood.

Once they arrived, she dropped his arms forcefully, kindling even more various, soft, defeated cries.