Darlene struggled against the grip of the intruder’s gloved hand over her mouth. The whispered accusation, “you have something that doesn’t belong to you” repeated in her mind. She remembered the Glock that she had removed from Jeff’s waistband and stashed under her mattress… as if she could flip the mattress to get it. She’d die before handing it over.
“You have the keys.”
There was a hint of familiarity in the whispered voice. Darlene couldn’t place it, though. She grasped the arms- definitely male. His hand pressed harder on her mouth. She closed her eyes and shook her head, her cries muffled by leather. She relaxed. Maybe if she pretended to give up, she could catch him off guard.
“Don’t make me do this.”
I’m going to die. Darlene resisted the urge to open her eyes. Please God, help me.
The house rumbled from the crack of thunder. Darlene gasped when she felt a crushing weight on her chest.
Darlene snapped her eyes open. It wasn’t the same whisper.
Nosy Myrtle Crawford. “What- how?” Darlene sputtered when she saw her neighbor with a baseball bat propped on her shoulder. Darlene prayed the room was dark enough to conceal the color that burned across her cheeks. Rescued by an octogenarian. The rumor mill would love that one.
Myrtle smiled. “Rockford Peach, 1954,” she said proudly.
“Y-you played professional baseball?”
Myrtle frowned. “I wasn’t so old back then. Now git up ‘for he does!”
Darlene grunted as she shoved the man. He hit the floor with a thud. Her stomach turned when she realized the sticky liquid on her fingers was crimson.
“I’ll meet you downstairs,” Myrtle said.
Darlene stood and reached under her mattress to retrieve the Glock, papers, and keys she’d taken from Jeff.
Curiosity ruled, so she clicked the lamp on and removed the man’s knitted mask.
“Oh, my God…” Darlene stumbled, tripping over her feet. Her husband’s skull smashed on one side, she knew.
Color (noun): complexion tint: (a) the tint characteristic of good health; (b) blush.
If you want to read other responses, or try the challenge yourself, click on the tricycle picture to view Trifecta’s site. Happy writing (and reading!)
This continues Darlene’s story (if you haven’t read the other parts and are curious about what has transpired so far, here are the links:)
I know, Widdershins… I really need to get a page set up for this. It’s on my list, really