HOMEWRECKER {18+}

31

O L I V I A

The next day, I stepped out of the car by the cabin which was surrounded by trees.

This wasn't the doctor's cabin. It was one I had purchased, perfect for all seasons—winter, summer, and everything in between.

Finally, a place for myself, I thought, retrieving my suitcase and the freezer box that had once held Mrs. Stewert's arm from the back of the car.

I walked to the cabin, unlocking the door of the two-story wooden structure, which resembled a cottage with a lake beside it.

Why had I bought the cabin? The idea came from the doctor's cabin, but I was also drawn to the cabin's size, which included a kitchen, living room, two bedrooms, and two bathrooms.

And, most importantly, the basement.

My favorite thing about the cabin was its isolation, miles away from any civilization.

Stepping inside the cabin, the smell of old wood filled my senses. Dust coated everything as I moved through the living room into the hall, which ended with a bookshelf.

I walked down the wooden hall to the bookshelf, which looked ordinary but was actually a door leading to the basement.

I moved a few books to reveal the doorknob, turned it, and opened the bookshelf-door. After switching on the lights, I descended the staircase into the windowless basement.

It was perfect for hiding things—like the large suitcase I carried.

I set the suitcase on the floor and turned to the freezer I had brought with me.

The same freezer that had once contained Eleanor's best friend's arm, preserving it perfectly.

I placed the freezer box inside and closed it, recalling the day I murdered Mrs. Stewert and brought her arm here for the first time.

Olivia Vance danced around the crimson-stained house, despite the absence of music or electric lights. The flickering glow of candles placed throughout the rooms created an eerie atmosphere.

Mrs. Stewart's screams provided a haunting sound as Olivia leaped and twirled, her clothes drenched in the woman's blood.

Blood also smeared the walls, and Olivia made sure not to waste a drop of Eleanor's best friend's blood, because Olivia's mother made sure to never waste a drop of her blood.

Giggling, Olivia painted on the woman's pristine white couch with blood. It wasn't as skilled as Eleanor Everett's work, but Olivia was satisfied with her gruesome artwork.

She danced through the house, smearing blood everywhere, but she was wearing gloves because she would never leave a trace of herself.

Olivia's mind drifted back to the first time Eleanor had taken Mrs. Stewart to the basement, to watch as Eleanor scarred her own daughter's back.

Afterward, Eleanor and Mrs. Stewart had danced in the basement, sipping wine, while Olivia screamed for help that never came.

The young girl had screamed until she realized that help would never get to her, marking the day her hope died.

"Olivia!" Mrs. Stewart screamed, trying to draw the girl's attention.

The woman lay lifeless on the white kitchen table, but her eyes still pleaded for life.

Her wrists and ankles were bound, spread apart, as she lay on her back, screaming for help that would never come. Her son was away for the weekend, and she had divorced her ex-husband long ago.