Part two is here
She shoved open the car door and stormed across the street to the front door. She raised her hand, and hesitated, just for a moment, which was when she heard the scream. She’d watched plenty of horror movies, she knew what a scream was supposed to sound like, but this was different. There was a whole new level in this, like the sound of a rabbit caught in a fox’s jaws. It was pathetic and monstrous at the same time, and she backed away from the door, then dropped to her knees, out of sight of the front window.
The hair on her neck had risen, and she had goose bumps all over. She scuttled sideways, looking for a side gate, and when she found it, she reached for the catch, and ever so slowly, opened it and went through. She was stood in a narrow gap that ran down the side of the house, no windows facing it and she stood, and took a deep breath.
Hold on a second, call the police. She thought about her man being dragged off, dumped in a squad car, and she shook her head. She didn’t know what had happened, but she needed to, before she called them. She walked quickly down the side of house, and round to the back.
Another scream cut into her. It was quiet, muffled by the double glazing, but she could hear the desperation, and the terror. She froze beside the patio doors, then peeked carefully in.
They were in the lounge, and all her worse fears were realised.
The woman was on her knees, blood streaming from deep cuts in her face and arms. He stood above her, cycling clips in place, a large plastic apron covering all but his shoes, and kitchen knife in hand. She clapped one hand over her mouth as the blade came down, cleaving through the softer part where the neck met the shoulder. The pretty woman went down, and he bent, and swung, and swung. She fell on her knees, retching, staring at the light hairs on the backs of her hands. Strange the details you noticed at times like these. Not that there had ever been ‘times like these’ before.
She pushed herself up, wiping her chin with her hand, and turned, reluctantly, back to the window.
Each time the knife came up, droplets of blood flicked off and splashed across the patio door. She jerked back every time the soft thuds announced a new spatter. Soon, she was watching through a red haze, the glass covered.
The body was a mess. He dropped the knife atop the body, shrugged off his apron onto the pile, then peeled off surgeons gloves and let them fall with the rest. He had done this before. The thought made her lip curl, and her hands clench into fists. He made a careful, but swift inspection of his clothes, and stepped out of the room. He returned a few moments later with a bottle of water.
