The Reckoning

The storm raged. The rain lashed. She looked out the window. When the lightning flashed across the sky, she could see the horizontal streaks on the pane.

“It’s rough out there.”

The bass reverberated through the living room as her father responded; she was stating the obvious. With an abrupt movement, she looked at him. Her eyes flickered wide open momentarily. He never noticed her, what she was saying, or doing. The attention always fell on her younger brother, never on her.

Her brother did okay at school, always middle grades. He was better at sports, but never a star. She had scored straight A’s for the last two years at school, aced college and now, in her third year at uni, she was top of the class. She wasn’t interested in sports. Still, while in college, she took on a five-mile run just to try - and won. A coach approached her, saying she’d beaten the national record and asking if she’d run for his team.

None of this had attracted any response from her family, but when her brother came fourth in a one-mile run, both her parents had praised him and bragged about it to everyone they knew.

The subtle, abrupt exhale of contempt at her father’s reaction to the pointless remark about the weather did something to her.

She neither could nor would try to explain what happened. The only thing she said, when asked years later, was that something shifted inside her - a fuse blew.

She stood quickly, grabbed a candle and walked to her room. In the flickering light of the flame, she opened her wardrobe and drawers. Found all her bags and began packing. She didn’t throw it in. No, not her style. She neatly folded everything with care and placed precisely in her bags. She packed to maximum capacity and minimum creases.

With no hesitation about what to pack and what to leave behind. When she finished, she put her bags back in the wardrobe. Safe out of sight. If any of her family members walked in on her, there was no noticeable difference.

She considered her plan carefully: bags packed – check; Fuel in the car – tomorrow; full service – tomorrow; documents and papers – check. As she ran through her checklist, she knew she had to observe her normal routine until she was ready to execute her plan. As far as she was aware, they suspected nothing.

I have to maintain my daily routine. They can’t see it coming. If they do...

It was hard to keep pretending, but she had to. She couldn’t allow anything to derail her... escape.

“Honey, give me a hand with dinner, will you?”

Her mother’s sugar-coated voice carried upstairs to her. She got up, opened the door, and called back.

“Mum, I’m studying.”

She knew what would happen. It was always the same. Because she hadn’t closed the door again, she heard her mother complain to her father. It took less than five minutes before he was at the door, telling her to go help her mother with dinner. His voice was cold metal. Hard, unyielding, without a trace of warmth. She put her pen down and stood. For a brief second, she felt the urge to slam the door in his face. But she needed tomorrow to get her car serviced; to be ready. Her father stepped aside to let her leave her room. She noticed his eyes scanning it before he followed her downstairs.

Her brother lay sprawled on the couch, reading. She paused. No, not reading — he was flipping through a comic.

“Mum, why didn’t you ask Rick to help you? He’s not doing anything. I was studying. It’s important.”

She already knew what the answer would be, and she was right. Her mother went straight into a tirade about ‘how her brother was tired’ — he had done nothing all day. ‘He’ll just injure himself’ — then teach him how to chop. It’s not that hard. ‘He doesn’t know where the stuff is in the kitchen’ — no, because he never lifts a finger here.

She could feel her temper rising, so set the table and took over chopping the veg. Once that was done, the cooking followed. While the last bit was simmering away, a sticky feeling crept over her skin, so she took a quick shower. By the time she finished, the food was ready. She plated up for everyone, then called out to them.

“Dinner’s on the table. Don’t let it get cold.”

After finishing her meal, she cleared her setting and went back upstairs to study by the candlelight. She knew they would call her when they were done, so she could clean up after them. It was how it was.

Done for the day, she got ready and went to bed.

‘Tomorrow I’ll get the car checked, and that’s it.’

Was the last thing on her mind before falling asleep. The following morning, she woke early, had breakfast, and went to uni. She’d booked the car in for a service during her classes.

She had considered putting her bags in the car, but decided against it - just in case the garage would wonder and contact her father. No, it had to be as normal as usual. After her classes, she picked up her car, paid the bill, and filled the tank. While driving home, she thought about how to get her stuff loaded into the car.

As luck had it, nobody was home when she arrived. Quickly, she loaded her belongings into the car. With everything packed, she left a note in her room explaining she’d found another place to live and was moving out. She changed the SIM card in her phone and left the old one with the note. There’d be no way for them to reach her now.

She had updated her contact details at the uni, with strict instructions not to provide them to anybody. There had been a slight issue when the secretary said they would have to give them to the police if required.

She explained her father was a police officer who’d use his status to access her personal information, and she didn’t want to risk that. She added he would pursue a court order if necessary, though there’d be no legal grounds for one. They agreed the secretary could contact her with the police present. If the contact seemed genuine to her, she would then give permission for her details to be passed on.

Closing the door behind her, knowing it was the last time. This was it. She was finally leaving the house, which had felt like a prison for... She could not remember far enough back to when it hadn’t.

The flat she had found was closer to the uni. She could walk there. Her online business had already paid for the flat and some furniture. Paying for the internet at home... no, stop. It wasn’t home; it never was. She had just lived there. It was her parents’ home. Paying for the internet there had the advantage that she needed access to it. One of the few things her father did not have control over.

He didn’t know she had opened a bank account in her own name, to which he had no access, nor that her online business directed her earnings into that account. Everything was digital, leaving no paper trail.

She parked in her allocated parking bay and began the multiple trips up and down to get all her stuff moved in.

Tonight, she would celebrate her new freedom.

She still needed to get a lot more for her flat, especially kitchen essentials: pots, pans and the rest. The list went on, but that was fine. One thing she insisted on was a single, nice crystal wine glass, admitting she was a bit of a wine snob.

Just around the corner from her new flat was a Co-op, and two shops further down, a Chinese takeaway.

Her things brought up, and what she could, she’d packed away. She grabbed her purse quickly, checking. Yes, she had enough cash. She had emptied her tote and brought that with her. Into the Co-op, showed ID, and a bottle of red was hers.

I should have ordered first, then picked up the wine. Now I’ll have to wait.

As she entered, she saw three people waiting, but the queue moved faster than she’d expected. They turned out to be together, and left shortly after. There was still a brief wait, but it gave her time to find the takeaway menu, which she’d stick to her fridge when she got home.

Back home, she opened the food containers and hadn’t realised how hungry she was until the smell hit her nostrils. She placed the wine on the warm radiator to bring the temperature up. She wished she’d purchased and opened it the day before, giving it time to breathe.

“Cheers to me.”

She said aloud to herself, sitting on the stool at the breakfast bar.

“To me and my new life!”

She felt this peace wash in over her, and slowly settled within herself. After she finished eating, she put the containers in the bin, then refilled her glass and began walking through her flat.

She knew she had been lucky with it. The price had been so low that she had questioned it. That was when she learnt about the double murder that had taken place here. She had considered it and decided she still wanted to buy it.

Three bedrooms. Not that she needed it, but she wasn’t about to turn it down, and the space wouldn’t go to waste.

“This I will use as my office. Hmm... Which one shall I use as my master?”

Hearing a noise from one room, she slowly entered. There was a hole in the wall into the next-door neighbour’s. She remembered that the killer in the double murder was still on the loose. Now she knew why. He had made a door in the wall.

Suddenly, she stood face to face with the estate agent. He grinned maliciously, expecting her to scream or try to escape.

Instead, she switched back into self-preservation mode. She stepped forward. Surprised, he moved back into his own flat. In one gulp, she finished her wine before thrusting the delicate glass into his chest. The bowl shattered on impact. Its stem found its way deep into his heart.

The shocked expression on his face reminded her of her father when the kitchen knife had found his heart. Her brother had noticed nothing until she had slit his throat. Her mother had been the biggest problem.

Now she remembered it all, including washing the sticky blood off in the shower, the red colour spiralling down the drain.