‘So you found a grand in cash on the bus?’ asked Mischia. ‘Yeah, in a brown envelope on the floor at the back,’
Kelly replied, tiredly rubbing her eyes.
‘So what are you going to do with it?’
‘I don’t know.’ She shook her head. Mischia’s mind went into overdrive.
‘Let’s spend it. We could go shopping, to Romford...’ Kelly felt a headache developing, and Mischia was irritating her, she instantly regretted telling her about the money. Now there was no way back, she had to keep it, or at least the thousand pounds she’d already told Mischia about.
What would she do about the dead body and the ritual? The rest of the money? Why hadn’t she told anybody straight away? The police? The authorities? Wouldn’t they ask her the same questions if she decided to tell them now? And what would she say? How would she explain herself? Should she even tell them? What was she going to do? Kelly shook her head and rubbed her face with both hands, she felt so miserable and confused, but Mischia didn’t notice, she was rabbiting on about how to spend the money.
‘We could buy shoes, clothes, accessories, some stuff for the flat, and then do lunch like in Sex and the City. Oh my God, I’ve always wanted to do that! Then we can get a cab home with all our bags...’
Kelly was a slightly heavy girl in size but quite small in height. With smooth brown skin and shoulder length hair (always tied back), she had the sort of ordinary face that people wouldn’t remember.
She was the type of person who only did things when she had to, generally lazy, Kelly liked life to be easy, unchallenging and uncomplicated.
Mischia, on the other hand, liked to be active, and couldn’t sit still for very long; she would work her way around the flat every Saturday and Sunday, looking for something do. During the week, she would put much energy into her job as a trainee chef, to the pleasure of her employers.
Mischia had simple brown eyes and freckles around her nose, but didn’t like either, so she covered them with glasses, her skin was prone to spots, but her complexion was lovely, and her hair was an unruly mass of curls. She was also slightly heavy in size, but that was made up for by her height.
The girls had an easy relationship developed at college, after an incident with a boy.
Kelly had been pursued by a boy she later found out was Mischia’s boyfriend. Mischia had found out about this, and confronted Kelly, only to learn that it was her boyfriend doing the pursuing, and not Kelly. The girls had joined forces and plotted revenge against the offending boy, successfully managing to humiliate him in front of everyone that mattered.
They had become friends after that.
At twenty-two, Kelly and Mischia had decided to seek independence and move into their own place, where they split bills, rent, food, etc, and life was good as far as they were concerned, despite the ordinary ups and downs.
‘...Remember that top you wanted but couldn‘t afford?’ ‘Mischia stop, plea-’
She was interrupted by the sound of a breaking
flowerpot. Mrs Phillips from upstairs had an annoying cat that would ‘meow’ at the same time each night and knock
Ella Roberts things over, inconsiderate of the people it was disturbing. They had complained to her, but all she would say was ‘Cats are independent animals dear, you can’t keep them locked up’. So, there was nothing anyone could do, save killing the cat, of course, but they grudgingly put up with it instead.
‘It’s back. You know, something needs to be done about that cat,’ Kelly complained.
‘I know, but you know what she says...’ Mischia looked at the ceiling sarcastically.
Kelly sucked her teeth ‘You know I was trying to sleep the other night-’
‘-And it scratched at your window and meowed?’
‘Yeah, how did you know?’
‘It did that to me.’
‘Stupid cat,’ Kelly hissed at the window. ‘Maybe, we should pour hot water on it?’
Mischia nodded, uninterested, then said ‘Anyway, back to the money. Are you going to give some to your mum?’
Kelly could have slapped Mischia for reminding her of her dilemma, and shook her head, then went on to thinking about how she would actually explain such a lot of money to her mother, and also debated telling Mischia the truth, but decided against it.
Fatigue enveloped her, and she wanted to sleep forever, or at least until this whole situation had gone far away or didn’t matter anymore. Since that was impossible, she decided, instead, to get some rest, and then maybe tomorrow, she would know what to do; people always thought better in the morning, feeling so tired, she was not thinking straight, and nothing good would come out of making decisions in her this state of mind.
‘I’m off to sleep now,’ she stood up, stumbling a bit ‘Goodnight Mish.’
‘Night girl.’ Mischia waved her off.
On the way to her bedroom, Kelly stopped her mind from drifting back to the dead body, and the paranoia about the owners of the money coming after her.
She changed into her night clothes, climbed into bed, and, after a long time, fell asleep from pure exhaustion.
Kelly was woken up by a scream.
A scream that was filled with fear.
At first she thought it was a dream, but the screaming persisted so, sleepily, she sat up and stumbled out of bed, sliding her feet into a pair of old slippers, wondering what the hell was going on and why it was disturbing the sleep she had waited so long to fall into.
She followed the noise slowly, at first, and faster as she approached the living room.
Mischia!
And what she was staring at stopped Kelly in her tracks.
Mrs Phillips’ cat, dead, on the carpet, and inside a circle of candles and stacks of cash labelled £5,000.
It’s spine had been broken, and the body was positioned to form a ‘W’, while a giant pin, also engraved with a ‘W’, had been dug into it’s side, the cat’s thigh had the same ‘W’ symbol engraved on the giant pin.
Kelly looked at Mischia.
And screamed.