Twisted Fate

Imogen’s hands quivered as she gripped the phone. “Is Joe with you, or is he outside?”

“He’s sound asleep, snoring beside me. What’s going on?” said Winona, the owner of the cottage retreat.

“I heard a noise outside. Footsteps.”

“Okay, dear. I’ll wake Joe up and get him to check it out. But I’m sure it’s only a stray animal going about.”

A sweaty brow made her wince when a twig snapped outside her bedroom window. “It’s not your dog, is it?”

“No dear. He’s with us in the room, resting. But stay put and we’ll check it out for your peace of mind.”

She ended the call, hugging her body tight in her fleecy nightgown and bare feet. The fluffiness of the carpet gave her warmth. It had to be a stray cat, surely.

Imogen sat on the edge of her bed, waiting for Joe. She was being silly about a noise when the silence around the country would only sharpen intermittent sounds. Shame fell upon her, thinking these owners were strangers she’d only met this morning, and here she was complaining.

Her mind turned back to the productive day she’d had as a writer, spending the weekend away from family and responsibilities. Her two young children and workaholic husband kept her busy, and she’d been surprised when he agreed to let her have two days to herself. The writing she’d done today moved her romance story along.

A tap on her bedroom window jolted her. Slowly, she rose and drew open the curtain. Jumping back, she lost all breath. Her fingers shook and her heart raced. A hooded figure. Dark, brooding eyes. Staring through the window. Close by. What if Joe was hurt, and who was this man?

Reaching out for a knife from the block in the kitchen, she made her way to the open-plan living room opposite the bookshelves and peered through the window again. But nothing.

Imogen’s eyes gazed at the living space. It looked different. Before she went to bed, she could’ve sworn the couch was closer to the dining table, but now it was further away. Chills at the top of her spine radiated into her legs as she wobbled, steadying herself against the couch. Someone had been inside the cottage while she was in bed. She hadn’t been asleep but was reading in bed for an hour.

A knock on the door jerked her back into the present. Was it the intruder, but why would he knock?

“Imogen, it’s Joe. Open up.”

With a sigh of relief, she put down the knife, unlocked it and swung it open. “Oh, Joe. Thank God.”

“Listen, I’ve had a look around the cottage and the property, but no-one’s here.” He patted his stocky fingers against her shoulder, his chestnut brown eyes vibrant. He must’ve been in his sixties and had a bulky presence.

Strange. “But I just saw a man in a hoodie staring through my bedroom window. I didn’t imagine that.”

Joe tilted his head, peering past her. “Haven’t seen anyone. Are you sure? We haven’t had any intruders ever on the property.”

“Yes. Should we call the police? He might be hiding, but what would he want?”

He squinted. “A hooded figure you said?” She nodded. “It must’ve been the new guest in that second cottage behind you. Winona did say they’d be turning up late tonight. Mother and son. Unfortunately, the son has an intellectual disability and is harmless, really. He must’ve been wandering about. My guess is, he’s returned to his place. Not to worry.”

Her shoulders squared. “Oh, that’s a relief then.” But the uneasiness didn’t cease, and her chest still squeezed her like a vice. But she didn’t want to appear weak, so decided to go back to bed. “Thanks, Joe. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He nodded. “Of course. Imogen has a nice lunch surprise for you. You can’t go past her delicious meatloaf.” He smiled before he walked off.

Sneaking back to her room, she fell under the covers and visualised a peaceful garden. She was being ridiculous when the poor guest must’ve feared her. Curious about her, no doubt. If he was disabled and harmless, she had nothing to worry about.

Closing her eyes, she settled into sleep and darkness fell.

***

Gasping for breath, Imogen woke and shivered. Shards of glass shattered. A brick landed with a thud against the dresser. Quickly jumping out of bed, she reached for her phone on the bedside table and called Winona. “Help me. Someone’s broken the window.”

“Oh, no,” said Winona. “You can stay in the house with us. I’ll send Joe over again and call the police.”

Jittery and biting her nails while pacing the floor, she later wrapped a nightgown around her. She was not sleeping here tonight. Surely Winona would have a couch.

Shivering despite the warm air, Imogen jumped at the knock on the door.

“It’s Joe.”

She swung open the door. “Come and have a look.”

He made his way to her bedroom and shook his head. “Blasted guest. Come with me. Winona said you can stay with us tonight.”

Locking the door behind them, she teetered to the main house with Joe huffing. His concern warmed her heart.

“I am sorry about this, Imogen. This has never happened before, but I’m heading over to the cottage. I’ll see whether her son did this. If not, I’ll have to call the police. Head inside. Winona’ll look after you. Don’t you worry.”

Imogen spotted the owner and wrapped herself in her arms, feeling safe. “Thanks for letting me stay.”

Winona pulled away, her long, grey hair dishevelled and her gnarled hands reaching for her own. “Oh, you poor dear. The guest’s son has obvious issues, but I’ve spoken with his mother, and she’s offered to pay for the damage. We’ll sort it tomorrow. I’ve set up the guest bedroom for you, so you should be fine.”

“I appreciate that. But why would he do that? Your window’s smashed. With a brick.”

She nodded. “His mother says he has tantrums. He might be adjusting to the place and wanted your attention. He doesn’t understand, you know.”

“How well do you know them?”

“I know the mother. She works at the local bakery and wanted to take time out with her son. He’s not physically aggressive.”

“I hope he settles for the night at least. I don’t want this happening again.”

“Oh, tomorrow they’ve decided to leave. It won’t be an issue, love.” She nodded as she prodded her over to the bedroom that featured a double-bed, weathered mahogany tall boy and a stained bedside table alongside a walk-in-robe. “Now you rest. You’re in for my surprise breakfast in the morning.”

Imogen laughed. “Joe said you’d surprise me with a meatloaf for lunch. Now breakfast?”

“Of course. My famous non-alcoholic Bloody Mary.”

“Wow. For breakfast?”

“It’s always a good time for a delicious beverage, I say. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Winona.” Settling into bed, she closed her eyes, but sleep failed her after thirty minutes. Even here, noises bothered her. The creaking, tweeting birds, muffled voices in the distance, and the sound of a car engine.

An uneasiness settled into her bones again, as if something didn’t feel right. But no, she was in shock, that was all. If the guests were trouble, they had to leave.

Closing her eyes again, a thud and a yelp caught her attention. What the hell! She was sure no-one else was staying in the house.

A loud bang against her wall made her hair stand on end. Who was banging on her wall? The property owners had no children living with them. It was only the two of them, and the guests were staying on the other side of their home. Should she check it out?

Why not? She couldn’t sleep, anyway.

***

Imogen peered outside her bedroom where all was quiet. Joe and Winona must be sleeping.

A bang made her jolt. Then a muffled voice outside her room. It seemed to be coming from her left side when Joe and Winona’s room was on the right.

Curious, she crept along the corridor and looked over her shoulder as if someone was about to jump her. The quiet unnerved her. She passed by more rooms with closed doors. Turning the knob to one of them, it was locked. She shivered for no reason, the darkness making it hard to navigate along the narrow space.

Her hair stood on end, with whispers coming from one of the rooms up ahead. Something nudged her foot as she fought for breath. What the hell! A cat. Who knew they had a cat?

Bending down to pat it, she smiled at its white and black fur. “Hello there. What’s your name?” The cat purred, then raced off.

Slowing down her steps, she spotted an outline of a figure up ahead. Frozen in place, she soon jerked back and fell, hitting her head against the doorknob. The hooded man crept towards her when she quickly slid herself along the floor and turned towards her room. She screamed. Why was he sneaking up on her? “Help, help.” Quickly pulling herself up, she raced back to her bedroom, slammed the door, and turned the lock. The knob shook as if he was trying to get in. Chills down her spine and shaky legs made her drop to the bed, hoping he’d stay away. Now, where was her phone? She was sure it was inside her bag, but rummaging into it now, it had disappeared.

Imogen wondered why the owners hadn’t heard her screams. Were they outside? She needed to find Winona and tell her about the hooded figure. It couldn’t be their disabled guest coming inside the house, could it? Hadn’t Winona sorted it out? Why was he lurking inside the house instead of being in the cottage?

The footsteps receded in the distance, so she assumed the hooded figure had left. But she had to find Joe and Winona, make sure they were all right. What if they were hurt, and how could she live with herself if she didn’t do anything about it?

Thoughts of rest escaped her, her eyes darting in the darkness, short of breath, with a throbbing headache. Elbows pressed into her sides and her shoulders tightened.

Her stomach rock hard, she was about to throw up. Her limbs shook.

When she crept towards the door in preparation to leave, the door busted open.

Again, she screamed.

***

Tears fell down her cheeks. No, it couldn’t be. Her eyes had to be deceiving her.

“You are right where we want you, Imogen.”

She held her breath, her voice shaky. “Why are you doing this?”

He yanked her by the hair. “Because we can. Why don’t you come with me?”

She lifted her elbow and knocked him in the face, but it barely affected him. He was strong. “Let me go and I won’t say anything.”

Out of his jacket, he retrieved a knife. Imogen flinched.

As he pushed her into the hallway, footsteps approached in the darkness. She couldn’t see who it was as he pressed the handle of the knife into her back.

As they drew closer to the person, Imogen cowered. They were in on this together, pretending to be loving, but were just the opposite.

Winona patted her hair. “Oh, love. It’s okay. We’ll take great care of you. Don’t you worry. If we decide to keep you, we’ll have amazing adventures together.”

Walking down the corridor, Imogen’s eyes watched for any sign of escape or even a weapon, but there was nothing. She couldn’t risk it when Joe held a knife on her.

The bead of sweat made her hot as she entered a room with stairs. “What is this?”

“Get down,” said Joe. “Any funny business and I’ll jab this into your carotid.”

Tangy and sweat smells made her sick as she moved down the steps, the darkness making it hard to find her way until they reached the basement. Joe turned on the light. She winced at the horrid sights.

In one corner lay single sneakers, old, bloodied clothes, stacks of boxes with more clothes, books, jewellery, a long, clear tube filled with what looked like dried blood, and car keys. Who did these belong to? Their other victims? Winona’s Bloody Mary came to mind. No, she didn’t, did she? But before seeing more, she entered another room. A woman who appeared to be in her twenties looked up. Her eyes were bloodshot, bloodied wrists secured to a steel pole with vine. The deep cuts around her neck made her nauseous. “Help me,” she whispered.

Imogen couldn’t breathe as she stared at the poor woman, knowing she had to help. But how? She fixated on a tray of tools situated on a table: a scalpel, syringe, knife, and hammer. Were these their means of torture?

Winona rubbed her hands as Joe picked up the vine while resting the knife on the floor beside him. “Oh, this is exciting. Another pet? And what better way to get you guys to watch each other? At least you won’t be alone.”

Could she grab the knife? She needed a distraction. “There are no guests, are there?”

Winona scoffed. “Of course not. That was Joe’s many disguises. The games we play. There is no police here to save you either. We’re miles from services, in the middle of nowhere, so don’t think anyone has ever escaped. They haven’t.”

“I’m sure the police are after you,” said Imogen. “If you’re kidnapping women, people will reach out, knowing these women have stayed here.”

“We’ve got away with it so far.”

Joe pushed her hard against the chipped wall and was reaching out for her hands when she kicked him hard in the groin. “You bitch,” he said.

She shoved Winona hard, but the woman recovered and pounded into her, causing her to fall back. Winona lunged for her, pulled hair strands from her scalp and cursed words. “I’ll kill you, bitch. You’re dead.”

Winona shifted and threw a heavy box towards her, blocking her path.

Joe rose, gripped his knife, and walked slowly towards her.

In the box, she found a mobile phone. Quickly rummaging for it, she slammed it into Joe’s face. As he fell, it gave her time to escape and run up the stairs, making her way to the front door and through the woods until her legs no longer carried her. Dropping down and leaning next to a tree, she shook her head. I must go back. The other woman. What if they kill her?

Armed with a large rock and stick, she ran back to the house and inside the basement. The silence was eerie as she slowly made her way down the stairs, gripping her weapons with eyes flicking in all directions. Senses sharpened, she listened for any footsteps or breathing in the darkness. Turning on the light, it was empty except for the girl.

Imogen rushed to her, bent down and untied one of her hands. “What’s your name?”

“Mari, and thank you.” Her eyes brightened.

While struggling with the tight knot of her right hand, goosebumps permeated her skin as she wondered where they’d got to. The cool, musty air made her queasy and her head ached, wondering if they’d make it out alive. But if she could quickly untie her, they were free.

“Watch out,” the woman said.

Quickly turning, Joe lunged into her and hefted his body over her, slashing her across the cheek with the knife. The unbearable pain stung as she dropped the weapons, feeling light-headed. She had to get herself together. A blurred Joe grimaced. But it didn’t last long when arms grabbed him and shoved him aside. Picking up the rock, the kidnapped girl smashed it into his face multiple times.

Winona ran inside the basement and wielded the knife around. “Stop. I’ll kill you.”

Mari’s eyes widened as Imogen dodged the knife. She reached for it but grabbed air while Winona pounced and grazed the woman’s neck. Mari dropped the rock.

“Put the knife down. I’m stronger than you,” said Imogen.

“I’ll kill you bitches.” Distracted from looking at Mari, Imogen picked up the stick and smashed Winona across the cheeks. Falling to the ground, she gripped Mari’s hand and led her out of there.

Mari held up a hand. “We have to get the other girl. She’s in the study next to the guest room.”

Imogen gasped, now realising that must’ve been the muffled sound she’d heard earlier. “Of course.”

***

Local police have arrested a middle-aged man and woman for kidnapping and murdering at least five women in the local area. The last three women kidnapped came forward and will testify in court. All three women were wounded and are now in a stable condition.

Imogen turned away from the TV and faced the other woman, Mari. “They’ll be put away for a long time once we testify.”

Her new friend nodded. “Those bastards should’ve died. I would’ve easily killed Joe if you didn’t stop me.”

Imogen patted her hand. “You’re safe now. Better to be alive so he can suffer in prison. But I’m so sorry for what you went through.”

A stream of tears fell down her flushed cheeks. “Thanks for saving me.”

Imogen raised an eyebrow. “Do you know why they were killing these young girls?”

Mari scoffed. “A group of young women were bullying their youngest daughter at work. A few months later, she killed herself.”

Imogen’s chest tightened as she placed a hand over her mouth. “That’s horrible.”

She shook her head. “Those disgusting human beings are my parents, Imogen.” She trembled. “What happened to my sister was a tragedy but there’s never any excuse for murder. My parents should’ve protected me.”

Imogen was short of breath. “I am so sorry.” Her headache returned.