Two Of Hearts

Basement

I followed the asshole from before who dared to touch Sylvia so casually. It was the entitlement that really ticked me off. To my unsurprise, he was bothering other women too, and some were literally minors.

Needless to say, now he is lying in my basement with his dick cut off. I am a pretty average girl, but a misogynist really brings out the worst in me. Maybe I need to fix my anger issues, like Stacy said the last time I went to her office.

I type in my therapist's name in my contacts and try to control my heavy breathing. I send in a text to schedule my next appointment after a few minutes of contemplation. I push open the door to my balcony, plop down in the chair, and take out a cigarette. My hands are still slightly shaking as I press it to my lips and blow the smoke out. The notification ping from my phone reels me back from the imaginary monsters that were climbing up the house, and I glance at it expecting it to be Stacy, my therapist, but it is Sylvia instead.

Sylvia: You didn't have to, but thank you.

I shake down the weird feeling that shopping isn't the only thing she is thanking me for and stare into the darkness of the night once again.

I wake up the next day to the constant ringing of the bell. I drag myself from the bedroom in pure irritation. I open the door just to see Aunt Helen and Sylvia conversing as if it is totally normal to show up at someone's house at 9 o'clock in the morning.

"Hello, dear! Do you still have that tall wooden table? I may need it for my stall," Aunt Helen says excitedly.

"Uh, the one with carved floral patterns?"

She nods.

"Oh, it is in the basement, I believe," I try to stifle a yawn.

"Sweetie, I will just go and get it," Aunt Helen replies as she welcomes herself into the house and ushers Sylvia in as well.

I stand there for a few seconds processing the words, and then it dawns on me. The dead body.

I rush inside and say, "I will find it for you. You can sit in the living room."

"Nonsense, you can rest up, dear," Aunt says. The agony on my face must really be visible to Sylvia because the corners of her mouth curve into a menacing smile, and then she has the audacity to say, "Your aunt is right. We already inconvenienced you by visiting this early, and we couldn't possibly trouble you more."

This evil woman. I try to think of an excuse when my eyes catch a table similar to the one downstairs, and I turn to my aunt, "Would this work?"

"Hm?"

"Would this table work too?" I repeat as I point to the dark brown table set against the wall.

"Oooo, this is pretty similar."

"Yeah, minus the carving."

"This does work, honey. You are so thoughtful to suggest this to prevent me from physical exertion," she hugs me as she says this. I try not to show the relief on my face as Sylvia seems to read my expressions really well.

"You have to come to the spring festival this year because I am putting out a stall. No more staying in," Aunt Helen says as she pulls apart from me.

This was apparently shocking to Sylvia because she quirks her eyebrows at me.

"You didn't visit the festival last time?"

Before I can even confirm or deny, Aunt Helen says, "This poor child has been through so much. She stopped going after her parents—my sister and her husband—passed away three years ago, you know. She even used to drive here to attend the festival from the city during her earlier university semesters."

I feel the humiliation set in. Why was she airing my private life to someone we barely know? The one thing I cannot stand is pity. It doesn't matter if it is the prettiest woman I have ever set my eyes upon. I glance at Sylvia to gauge her expression. It really takes me by surprise how she looks like she—like she doesn't care?

I have to really try my best not to stare at her with my jaw on the floor because either she has really low levels of empathy, or she is just batshit crazy. Okay, so maybe pity is better than whatever this is...She looks bored.

Her eyes suddenly twinkle, and she says, "Helen? Why don't we ask Ivy to help us as well?"

I just stand there trying to make sense of the situation. I look between Aunt Helen and Sylvia deciding things for me. I could say no, but something tells me Sylvia knows exactly what she is doing.