Fear

9. Fear
Sally
Amber
James
John
Romance

“Do-ki, do-ki, do-ki,” Amber chanted, humming under her breath as she climbed the stairs to her apartment, laundry basket in tow. Her honey-colored locks bounced on her back, curly and shiny, over her fuzzy pink sweater. The jean material of her shorts scratched over her legs as she jumped the last stair and plunked the laundry down next to her door. She fished into her pockets, searching for her keys.

“Wonder what Ms. Haffe is making for dinner?” she asked herself, tugging the keys out of her back pocket and letting herself in. Shadow, her cat, bolted across the kitchen tile and slammed into the wall before rocketing under the couch.

“Shadow!” she shouted, dropping her keys on the island and lowering herself next to her faded blue couch.

“Shaadooow?” she cooed, waving her fingers under the upholstery.

“Rrroooowwwrr,” Shadow hissed and spit, his yellow eyes glowing from the back of the shadows. Amber blinked, confused.

“Kitty, kitty, kitty?” she reached her arm under the couch. She heard Shadow hiss again, and she felt wind whistle by her fingers as his claws came centimeters from their tips. She yanked her arm out with a yell.

“Damn, Shadow, what’s your problem?” She stood, kicking off her high tops and wiping her trembling fingers off on her jeans. Amber scrunched her toes into the carpet and sighed.

“Fuck! The laundry!” she bolted back to the front door, which was still open, and looked around the corner. The laundry was still sitting there; she breathed a sigh of relief and brought it inside, locking the deadbolt behind her.

In her bedroom, she dropped the basket on the bed and started to put her things away. Shirts and blouses in her closet, jeans in her dresser. She was sorting through her underwear when she found it: a light blue envelope with her name across the front.

“What the hell?” she dropped the bra she was holding on the bed and ripped open the envelope. A pair of diamond earrings fell out, with a spray of rose petals. Amber threw the envelope, hissing.

“Shit,” she gasped, knocking the flower petals off her legs, then off her bed onto the floor. She ran into the kitchen and grabbed the broom and dustpan. On her way back to her bedroom, she snagged the phone.

In the bedroom, she tossed the phone onto her light purple comforter and started sweeping up the petals, careful not to sweep up the discarded earrings. Certain all the petals were in the dustpan, she walked down her hallway to the bathroom, where she dumped them into the toilet and flushed them. Leaving the dustpan there, she retreated back to her bedroom, plopping on the bed and dialing her brother’s number.

“Hello?” her brother’s voice sounded like a prayer on the other end of the phone line.

“John?” she heard her voice shook, and she winced, picking up one of the earrings and twirling it in the light.

“Amber? What’s wrong?”

“Fuck, John. He did it again. He left me a note in my laundry. There were earrings in this one. Diamond ones.”

“Shit, Amber, don’t stay there anymore. How many times does Sally have to tell you that you can move in with her before you believe her? Dammit. Just get out of there, Amber. How the Hell did he get a note in your laundry?”

“I left it outside my door. I didn’t even…I wasn’t gone for more than two minutes. I don’t understand why he’s doing this.” Amber’s voice wavered, and she started sobbing.

“Fuck, Amber. Fuck. It’s okay, calm down. It’ll be okay. I’ll be over there as soon as I can. Just keep your door locked…”

“John, no, don’t!” John lived three hours away, in a cul de sac in the lowlands. It was a far cry from Amber’s dinky little city apartment.

“Then call Sally, right now,” he demanded. Sally was a friend from college; an art student with her own gallery thanks to a small fortune she’d inherited from her grandmother. Sally had offered her the loft above the gallery when this whole mess had started.

“Okay, fine,” she pouted, kicking the remainder of her laundry off the bed. It fell with a plop, and she managed to persuade John to hang up the phone.

“Stupid brother,” she sighed, leaning over her bed and collecting her discarded clothes, tossing them back into the basket. Didn’t he understand her at all? She wasn’t going to give up the only thing she’d ever put effort into because of some psychopath. She didn’t owe this apartment to anyone but herself. He wasn’t going to drive her out.

She finished gathering up her things and kicked the basket out of the way. She stared at the phone in her hand as she ambled back to the kitchen. The diamond earrings were still back on her bed, glimmering reminders of the eyes that were watching her. Should she call Sally after all? Amber set the phone back on its cradle and ran her thumb over the call button. No. Just no.

She retreated to the kitchen to fix dinner. As the food simmered over the stove, she caught herself staring at the deadbolt on the door. Wincing, she forced herself to look away. To distract herself, she took a can of cat chow from the cabinet and filled Shadow’s bowl. Maybe she could bribe him out.

“Shaaadow,” she cooed, shuffling over to the couch. She hadn’t seen the cat leave his hiding place in the last forty minutes.

“Shadow,” she leaned over, peered under the couch and smiled.

“Here, kitty,” she put the bowl next to the crevice and blew over it, hoping the smell would lure him out.

“Shadow?” she whispered. Was he asleep? She couldn’t see his eyes.

A thump behind her made her scream. She turned, her arms outstretched. Shadow jumped off the table with a yowl, and hid behind the armchair.

“Shit,” Amber panted, tugging her curls out of her eyes. “Damn,” she whispered, her body shaking with heaving breaths. “Fucking cat,” she laughed, waggling her fingers at him. Shadow meowed and came forward, wriggling under her arm before gnawing on his food. Amber closed her eyes and rubbed him, still laughing nervously. “Stupid Shadow,” she mumbled, “you’ll be the death of me.”

She rubbed him down one last time before going back to the kitchen, not wanting her stew to burn. Amber scrubbed her hands once, taking off the scent of her cat, and lifted the lid off the pot. The warm scent of stew hit her nose, and she smiled, stirring it once before turning off the heat. She ladled some into a bowl and sat down on her couch, watching Shadow eat. Reaching over to the coffee table, she snagged the remote and turned the t.v. on with a click. As the droning noise of the weather channel filled her apartment, she filled her stomach with warm food.

When she’d finished her meal, she set the bowl down on the table and yawned. Today had taken more out of her than she’d originally thought. With another yawn, she grabbed the nearest throw pillow and cushioned her head, sinking into sleep.

What the Hell? Amber thought, her head swimming. It smells like flowers…lots of flowers. Her eyes were dry, and her head was throbbing. Scrunching her forehead, she forced open her eyes.

A man with dark brown hair and glasses stood over her in a black tweed suit.

“James?” she rasped, her blue eyes snapping open. She tried to sit up and coughed as ropes pulled her back down. Her head snapped back and forth frantically, taking in her surroundings. She was tied to her bed by her ankles and wrists. Candles were lit and placed around her room, little dancing lights on her dressers and side tables. She tugged on her bindings and winced as they burned, chafed her wrists and ankles. She could see that James had disrobed her, dressed her in some silky red number that he’d gifted her with back when she’d thought he was a man with nothing more than a slight, sweet interest in her. She pulled on the bindings again, harder this time, struggling through the tears.

“Tsk, tsk.” James leaned over her, held a mirror over her face. “You’re going to ruin your make-up,” he smiled, his glasses reflecting the light of the candles and hiding his dark eyes. Amber looked up at her reflection and went stiff. He’d done her make-up, and put his newest gifts in her ears. A necklace he’d left for her was clasped around her neck.

“Now,” he smiled brighter, put the mirror on a nearby table. “How are you feeling?”

“James,” she rasped, her throat still dry. “Don’t do this.”

“Come now, Amber, don’t be that way,” James crooned, running his finger down her throat. Amber burst into tears, tugging again at the rope.

“Amber, Amber,” he sighed, laying his burning hand on her cheek. His glasses slid down on his nose as he leaned over her, denting in her mattress. “Don’t you know I love you?”

“No, stop,” she whimpered, her legs trembling. James’ hands reached down, untied her ankles.

“See, Amber? I do love you,” he slid his hand up her leg, ran his hand over her knee.

Amber felt her eyes widen, and then she brought her knee up, smashed him in the face. James fell, his hands coming up over his nose. She pulled, twisted, thrashed. One rope came free, and she rolled over, tearing at the knot around her other wrist. Her nails ripped, but she didn’t stop. The sound of James’ painful moaning urged her forward, until the knot came free, and then she launched herself off the bed and ran, bolting down the hallway, ripping off her necklace. She could hear James shuffle and stand, then bellow and tear off behind her.

“Amber!” he choked on the blood running from his nose, and she rounded the corner of the hallway, snatched the phone from its cradle. She bolted around the island in the kitchen and dashed into the bathroom, locking the door behind her. Frantically, she dialed.

“Wong’s Wonton how we help you?”

“Fuck,” she hung up, dialed again.

“AMBER!” a thunderous pounding rained on the door, bowed in the wood. “Amber!” a hiccupping sob, and more pounding. Amber’s heart raced, jumped. Her stomach churned as the dial tones pinged in her ear.

“This is Sally,”

“Sally, oh my god, Sally, you have to-”

“I’m not home right now, but if you leave me a message after the beep, I’ll get back to you.”

Amber felt despair.

James still beat at the door, and it sounded as though he’d picked up her chair and was beating it against the wood. Pieces of wood were splintering and cracking above her, raining down over her and cutting her hands and face.

The phone beeped.

“Sally,” she whispered, taking a deep, rattling breath. “Sally, James is here, he’s beating down my bathroom door.” Her voice shook, and she closed her eyes. More wood rained down, and as if from a distance, she could hear James roaring, screaming that he loved her.

“Sally, my God, help me,” she whimpered. The door sprung open, and James stood over her, murder in his eyes, blood staining his white undershirt.

“There you are, Amber,” he smiled. The hair stood up on Amber’s arms, and she skittered back, pushed herself against the tub.

“Excellent idea,” he smiled. “We’ll have ourselves a bath.” His hands pinned her down, and he grinned in her face.

“No, James, stop,” she’d sobbed herself hoarse. He was running his hand through her hair, chuckling.

Weeping, she clamped her eyes shut, looked away.

Bang, bang, bang. Screams rang out.

Amber’s eyes snapped open, and her mouth dropped. A policeman stood in the doorway, gun drawn, and another one ran in around him and drug James’ limp body off her. Woozy, bleeding, Amber passed out in his arms.


“Amber? Are you awake Amber?”

Amber’s eyes fluttered open, and she tensed.

“Amber, calm down, honey, calm down.” Sally was standing over her, rubbing Amber’s arms soothingly. Glancing around, Amber could see that she was in a hospital bed.

“James?” she clung to Sally, shaking.

“They caught the bastard. He’s not dead, but he’s not going anywhere for a long time,” she assured her. “They’ve got him in jail right now. Oh honey, why didn’t you come over sooner?” She wept, Amber wept. They talked, wept some more. After two more hours, the nurse came and sent Sally home.

Exhausted, safe, Amber dozed in the warmth of the room. She woke later that night with the chills, and pulled the blanket further up her form. She turned the t.v. on with a click, let the droning of the news calm her down. Soothed by the noise and the light, she gazed around her room.

“Oh, hello dear,” an old woman who shared her room crooned, waving her frail hand lightly.

“Um, hi,” Amber waved back.

“A young man was here for you earlier. Quite handsome, he was. Said he was your brother. He left a bouquet for you.”

Amber’s eyes opened in surprise, and she looked over at the bouquet of Tiger Lilies on her side table. John knew that they were her favorite flowers.

He shouldn’t have come all that way.

An orange envelope was nestled in the flowers, and she lifted it out, smiling.

“He’s a sweetheart, my brother John,” she explained to the old woman, wiggling the card in the air.

“How nice,” the woman smiled.

Amber opened the letter, grinning.


/Amber
Don’t worry, you’ll see me shortly
I just wanted to leave you these in the meantime
Love Always,
James/

Amber screamed over the sound of flowers and glass shattering on the floor.