Spare Key

to the window and he felt something inside him shrivel as he realised she must have known about the cum and the fact it had disappeared would have only made her more suspicious. Did she suspect him?

He read over the note again but it was hard to focus with his heart hammering away in his chest. The note didn’t mention him by name but who else would she suspect? Ben cursed his foolishness. What, he thought it would be fine? That it wouldn’t look strange that all this stuff just happened to occur a couple of days after he moved in?

Quickly, he stripped off his t-shirt and mopped at the new ropes of sperm. But she hadn’t called the cops, he thought, his panic receding a little as he thought it through, she must still have her doubts. This didn’t mean he necessarily had to abandon his revenge. He’d just have to speed things up. Maybe do it now?

No that would be stupid.

But the key for his flat worked on both the back and front doors. Maybe this one was the same?

If it was he could do it now.

Ben crossed to the door, his heart pounding with excitement. What did it matter if the man was there? If he could enter silently, he could take care of him before he became a problem. It wouldn’t be like the last time, the man wouldn’t be unexepectedly coming home from a business trip. He could do it.

He could…

Ben hadn’t even realised he’d inserted the key until he heard the lock click open.

It worked.

The rush of power hit him, stiffening his cock. The idea that he had her in his power. He twisted the handle and the door began to swing open, the gap gradually growing tantalisingly wider.

I need to get my tools, he thought, picturing where he’d start. He’d use the large carving knife on the man. Just quickly and efficiently slit his throat; get him out of the way in a hurry. He didn’t want him flailing about and waking her. No, he wanted that privilege for himself. He’d press the knife to her throat. He wanted to see the confusion as she awoke to the feeling of cold steel on her skin. Then he’d slowly hold up the duct tape so she could see it…

The door halted an inch open and Ben ground his teeth in frustration. He had to restrain from just ramming it when he poked his fingers through the gap and felt the chain holding the door shut. It was so tempting. But how loud would the splintering wood be? He couldn’t risk waking them.

He scrabbled around in the gap for a moment but there wasn’t enough room to get his hand in and he couldn’t slide the chain free. He bunched his hand into a fist, fighting back his irritation. He could be in there now; he could have already started…

The laugh ripped through the air, ridiculously close and Ben flinched, the irritation disappearing as he stifled a scream. What the fuck was that? His mind raced even though he instantly realised it was coming from the neighbour’s yard. There was a faint murmur of voices and then another laugh exploded followed by frantic shushing noises.

How long had they been there?

Had they heard him?

Suddenly it was like Ben was waking from a dream as he realised how close he’d come to doing something stupid. How close he’d let the ridiculous panic over the sign push him into rushing things. Why did he need to rush? Even if she told the police, what could she prove? And even if she knew it was him, she couldn’t possibly know that he could get in. That he had the key. She had no idea how close he could get to her. All he had to do was be patient and wait until she went out again. If he went through the front door there’d be no chain to stop him and he could have all the time in the world to make his preparations.

Ben began to move back towards the fence, careful not to make any noise. He was so focused on his task that he almost went past his shirt, rumpled on the ground, and he shook his head as he snatched it up, trying to focus. He was making far too many little mistakes and he wondered whether it was some lingering effect of the pills or was it just that he was out of practice?

How long would the medication take to wear off? For that matter, how long since he took the last one? Ben tried to think but couldn’t remember. Not that it really mattered. Especially not when he passed the window and saw her sprawled out once more. He couldn’t help pausing and pressing his fingers to the glass, remembering how often he’d stood over her body at night, his cuts throbbing, the knife in his hand. All those impotent nights where he’d tried to work up the courage to take the revenge he’d fantasised about for so long. All those wasted opportunities, before the overdose had taken her and they’d been shipped off into foster care, washed over him and a brief sadness gripped him. But it wasn’t long-lived.

Because although he’d squandered those opportunities, he’d since found a way to have many, many more and those ones… well those ones were never ever wasted.

* * * * *

Rachel’s head was throbbing as she pressed the phone to her ear and was bombarded with Sarah’s cheery voice babbling out from the receiver. She shot a look at the clock; saw ten-fifteen glaring back at her and politely refrained from asking what the fuck Sarah thought she was doing ringing so early.

The fact there wasn’t a trace of hangover in Sarah’s bubbly voice and that the voice gave the distinct impression she’d been up for hours already didn’t help her irritation at all. She shook her head to clear away the sleep and immediately realised that it was a bad idea. It only increased the throbbing and as she peered around sleepily, she realised that Mitch had indeed legged it.

She’d suspected as much when the phone had woken her alone in her bed but she’d held out hope that maybe he was in the kitchen making breakfast or something. But apparently not and her irritation spiked again. No good-bye, no thanks for last night, no note, no nothing. Fucking great. It wasn’t like she wanted to fucking marry him and have his babies or anything but fuck, there was such a thing as common courtesy.

Sarah was still babbling away and Rachel realised that she’d missed almost everything her friend had been telling her. Her stomach was starting to somersault and even though she really didn’t give a fuck what Sarah had to say, she snapped a reply. ‘What?!’

There was a slight pause on the other end of the line and Rachel realised she might have been a little abrupt. Not that the bitch didn’t deserve it after last night.

‘Well, well, is someone feeling a little seedy this morning?’ Sarah’s voice was so bright and cheerful that Rachel was glad she wasn’t present. The temptation to stab her would be just too much. ‘Speaking of which, how’d it go last night? Come on, gory details.’

‘It was alright,’ Rachel croaked and had to remind herself it was allegedly one of her friends she was talking to.

‘Just alright? Come on.’

There was a pause and Rachel rubbed at a bleary eye with the palm of her hand.

When Sarah’s voice came back it was still cheerful but there was a slight edge of irritation to it.

‘Well, I’ll expect a full report once you’re feeling a little more sprightly but that’s not really why I’m calling. As I was saying, even if some of us weren’t listening, it’s about that guy last night… Um… Your neighbour… What’s his name again?’

Sarah’s voice dropped out just long enough for Rachel to form the thought: like you don’t fucking remember.

‘Ben. That’s it. It’s about Ben.’

‘What about him?’

‘Well he’s a strange one for sure.’

Which is why I didn’t want you to fucking invite him over last night.

‘It didn’t seem to bother you that much,’ Rachel said, attempting a jovial tone. It didn’t work. It came out bitchy. Fortunately Sarah answered with a throaty chuckle.

‘Well, I was also pretty drunk last night.’