12
Ben was just about to pour another glass of whiskey when there was a knock at the door. He stood up and stumbled towards it. He opened the door and saw it was the receptionist from the front desk. She was holding an envelope.
“Yeah?” asked Ben, a bit too roughly.
“Sorry to disturb you so late, sir. My shift was just ending when a boy came into the lobby. He said there’d been an accident and he’d to deliver this envelope to you. I looked at the name and address and when I looked back up the boy was gone.”
Ben took it from her hand, trying to focus on the writing.
“Thanks,” he looked back up but she was already walking down the corridor. Ben walked back into the room, closing the door behind him. He sat at the table and opened the envelope.
We know what you’re thinking of doing…
It’s not going to happen you’re too weak!
We know you told about that other thing that happened, that was a bad decision…
We’re going to make you pay… your all going to burn like she did…
If we can’t have her, no one can…
Ben put the letter down and walked over to the phone. Picking it up, he dialed their house number. It rang a few times until the answering machine clicked on.
“Ellen, it’s Ben, I’m coming over.”
He put the phone down and put on his jacket, then shoved the letter in his pocket. He took one last drink and left the room, slamming the door shut behind him.
* * *
The taxi-cab pulled up outside of the house. Ben paid the driver and got out. Ben pulled the jacket over his head as he ran through the heavy downpour of rain. Trying the front door handle, he found it locked.
He checked the rock in the garden, but it didn’t have the spare key in it, so he picked up the rock and smashed in a pane of glass. Reaching inside, he felt around for the lock. It clicked open.
The house inside was in darkness. Closing the door behind him, he shook the rain off his jacket.
“Ellen,” he called out, “Ellen, are you here?” There was no answer.
Ben tried the light switch but the storm seemed to have cut the power.
Pushing the living room door open, he saw an empty bottle of wine and a glass on the table.
Ben expected Johnny to be standing by the counter, but the kitchen was empty. The house’s old timber frame creaked and groaned, he looked outside and saw that the trees outside looked as if they might uproot and take flight. A bolt of lightning flashed outside, filling the empty kitchen with a strobe of white light.
He walked over to the drawers and pulled the top one open, reaching in he pulled out a knife.
Am I really doing this?
It’s either him or Ellen. You know he’ll kill her.
As he opened the backdoor the wind and rain blew him back a step. He shielded his face with his hands as he ran down the garden, towards the small gathering of trees at the far end.
He ran through a deep puddle, soaking his feet. Leaves and sticks were being torn from the branches and hurled towards the house like kamikaze missiles, a handful collided with his face or hands.
Reaching the trees, he looked around, letting his eyes adjust to the dark woods. The swing wasn’t hanging from the tree anymore. He could see some streetlights glowing in the distance, the power cables in the garden rattled, threatening to come loose at any moment. A car alarm began screeching somewhere.
“Ellen!” screamed Ben.
Something blunt hit him in the back of the head and then his world went black.