Something felt off the second she stepped into her small apartment. There was a different smell hanging in the air. It was vague but it was there. As if someone else had been there. As if he had been there.
The door had been locked but that could just be one of his tricks. He knew how to pick a lock and he could have locked it again from the inside to mess with her mind and make her think everything was under control.
She shook her head and put her purse down. She couldn't start thinking like that. He hadn't found her. She had left him almost nine months ago and he hadn't found her. She hadn't heard a word. She was safe.
"Only you're never safe as long as he's alive."
She should get out. Just run out and call the police.
"And tell them what?"
Her door had been locked and her apartment was way up high where no one could break in through the windows. Still there was that eerie feeling she couldn't shake and that faint scent in the air that she wasn't sure if she imagined or if it was really there.
"Fight!"
Her body went into survival mode as many times before and she walked straight towards the kitchen. She was gonna check out the livingroom, bedroom and bathroom as soon as she had a knife or two with her. She stared at the countertop where the knife block usually was and it was gone. It was in that second she knew she wasn't imagining things. He was there.
"Thelma," he said from behind her.
She turned around slowly, scared to see the man but too scared not to. He stood in the doorway, blocking her exit from the kitchen and back out of the apartment. He had the biggest one of her kitchen knives in his hand, pretending to clean his nails with it.
"Dean," her voice quivered.
"I told you I'd find you," he said.
He walked slowly towards her and she backed up as far as she could, hitting the counter way too fast. She held up her hands, trying to calm him down even though she knew from experience it would be pointless.
"Let's just sit down and talk about it," she tried.
"I don't wanna talk!" He shouted.
He jumped forward and slammed his hands down on either side of her on the countertop, completely trapping her in. She heard the metallic sound from the knife as it landed on the countertop but she knew he still had it in his hand. His facial expression was pure rage as he bowed his head down to come face to face with her.
"I'm done begging for you to love me!" He sneered. "I told you I'd come find you wherever you'd run, didn't I?"
She whimpered and turned her eyes downwards. She knew from experience that she needed to grovel at his feet.
"Didn't I?" He screamed into her face.
"Yes!" She cried. "I'm sorry, Dean. I love you."
That was a lie. She hadn't loved him for a long time. She had just been too scared to leave him. Almost nine months ago she had finally mustered up the courage. She had run in the middle of the night without anything. Just left it all behind and started over in a new town. She had been so stupid for believing it would work.
"It's just not enough anymore, Thelma. You don't think I know that you're lying? You'd say anything to save yourself. You always were a liar. I never could trust you. All those men you fucked behind my back. All those women you fucked behind my back. You never could get enough dick or pussy," he said.
"It's not true," she cried. "It's all in your head."
It really was all in his head. She would never have dared cheating on him, not with the beatings and punishments he came up with back then. It would only have made everything much worse.
"It doesn't matter anymore," he said.
He took a step backwards and of course he still had the knife in his hand. He took out a piece of paper from his back pocket and handed it to her. She unfolded it and her jaw dropped.
"What do you think? I did a great job copying your hand writing," he said.
"This is... This is..." She stuttered.
"Your suicide letter. Yeah, apparently you never got over me. Sorry baby, I never meant to break your heart," he said.
"You can't be serious? They will know! People know what you did to me!" She raised her voice.
"It's your words on the paper," he grinned. "And you and I both know you never told a living soul."
He grabbed her wrist and spun her around before pushing her forward into the counter again, once again trapping her. The piece of paper fell out of her hand and slowly fell to the floor.
"Come on, babe, we'll do it together," he said.
She tried fighting but he was way stronger than her and soon she found the knife in her own hands, pointing towards her chest, while his hands covered hers.
"Dean, please!" She cried.
"Ssh, Thelma, it'll be over quick. It's gonna be easy," he said.
She felt an excruciating pain as he pressed the knife into her chest. She looked down to see her white blouse starting to become red. The stain grew bigger and bigger. His hands left hers and he stepped backwards. Without his weight to support her, she crashed down on the floor with one hand still on the knife but without any strength to pull it out. She watched as he took the suicide letter that had landed on the floor and placed it on the countertop. He opened a cabinet and took out the knife block, putting it back in its place so nothing looked out of order.
"De... Dean..." She tried.
"I love you, Thelma," he looked at her with cold eyes. "And I fucking hate you."
She wasn't sure if she had closed her eyes or not but she couldn't see any longer. She heard him let out a puff before the sound of his boots disappearing out of the kitchen followed. The front door opened and closed and everything became silent around her.