EVERYDAY FEAR
Have you ever
had that creepy sensation that someone was behind you when you look in the
mirror…?
Carrie Benton
kicked off her shoes, did a little twirl around her bedroom, and sank gladly
into the armchair beside the bay window that looked out onto the street. She
gazed down dreamily at the road below, still seeing Gerald’s tanned face
smiling down at her, still feeling the gentle touch of his hand against her
arm. She decided there and then that it had been the perfect evening. Nothing
could mar this, she mused, and it would be even better in the morning when he
came to collect her for breakfast and they would share the whole day, not just
the evening.
Tosca chose that
moment to make his entrance, his pitiful meow shaking her out of the dream
world she was currently in. Carrie gathered the cat into her arms. ‘Hi there,
cattykins, who’s hungry then?’ she crooned into his fur. He arched his back and
playfully shot his paw at her. She giggled and set him down on the bed where he
regarded her with an air of suspicion.
‘I am going to
fix you some food,’ she teased, ‘right after I wash my face and get my dressing
gown on. You’ll just have to wait a while.’
Carrie switched
on the en-suite bathroom light and hummed to herself as she picked up the
facial wash from the shelf. She heard Tosca scratching the coverlet of her bed
in what she assumed was act frustration at being thwarted out of his food. ‘Not
long,’ she sang out, ‘Then I’ll get you your dinner and I’ll tell you all about
Gerald and our date.’
Carrie heard
Tosca hiss as if to say,’ Damn your date, just fix me some food!’ and she heard
a soft plop as the cat jumped off the bed. A minute later she shivered as she
felt a sharp cold draft blowing through the bathroom. Darn cat, she thought, he
must have squeezed through the bedroom door to the landing and left the door
open.
Carrie smeared the facial wash over her face, mixing it with water from the tap. The soapsuds bubbled on her skin. As she splashed warm water on her face, she thought she heard someone behind her. She looked up into the mirror, her face dripping water. Gerald stood there, framed in the entrance to the bathroom. She peered at him through a veil of soapy tears, thinking at first it was a trick of the light, or perhaps some water in the eyes making her vision blurry and unstable. It was only when she felt the quick bloody pain across her throat and smelt the scent of his Brut aftershave mixed with her blood that she realised, too late, it was Gerald and that her dream date had just turned into a nightmare.
