Her legs were burning, her breathing was harsh and labored and there was a stitch in her side that hadn't gone away but Helena Packer continued to run. An enemy had come in the night wrapped in lies, betrayal, and deceit. Now, she had to reap what she had sown. Her speed increased, the shoes on her feet slapping onto the concrete in an exhausted rhythm, and her hopes on escaping the enemy disintegrated into a muddle of desperation. The enemy was everywhere around her.
"Stupid Helena," Helena scolded herself between heavy breaths," You could have ignored the temptation but instead you dove head first into it!"
And what was the enemy, this temptation that had driven her into a stupefied state of mind? Why, the blueberry pie that she had devoured thinking. It had been too delicious to have just one bite, too disrespectful to only have two pieces, and by the third, her tongue was dyed blue from the ripe berries. Just thinking about it made Helena want to drool in weakness.
Damn that pie! Damn it to my stomach!
She turned a corner onto a familiar street with cozy homes that looked perfect for a typical British family. The sun was barely rising, lighting the town with rays of hope and wonder for the new day. Yet, the sky looked as unpredictable as ever. If you didn't like the weather in England, just wait 10 minutes 'cause it was likely to change. Helena continued to run until the view of a tall cream coloured two-story house, elegantly hidden behind a hedged fence, with a sea of green grass barely visible. Slowing down because she had finally reached her home and she was tired, she turned onto the walkway of her beautiful house and for a second, thanked whatever god was up there she had gotten it. It was classy, yet not over posh, with windows displaying only enough of the modern interior to tease the occasional peeping tom. There was a lovely tree in the front yard that barely stood over the chimney, tall and green with life. Helena couldn't say what type of tree it was, but it was pretty. The slate coloured roof mixed well with the greying sky, giving the house a late 1800's look. Too beautiful and all hers. Oh, and Richard's as well.
The second she opened the white French doors and stepped onto the light hardwood floors, she was bombarded with the aroma of fresh coffee and cooking food. Her mouth filled with warm saliva as she walked toward the kitchen. She didn't even take notice of Zeus, her miniature shorthaired daschund, who yipped happily at her return from the cold outside. Zeus didn't like the cold weather, nor did he like when his mum came inside and brought the cold air in with her.
"I'm drooling, Richard!" Helena announced with a small smile as she stepped into the kitchen, sitting at a glass table with metallic looking legs. A man, obviously the one called 'Richard', looked over and smiled at her. He was not attractive but was not a hideous monster either. A tossled matt of unruly brown locks sat on top of his head, a chiseled face similar to that of a Greek statue was bright with intelligence, and a stomach too big for his otherwise lean body hung slightly over a pair of flannel pajama pants the colour of the ocean in the dead of night.
"Women usually say that when they see me like this. I'm a hunk!" he said with a hearty laugh before taking a waffle out of the waffle maker and setting it on a white china plate.
"Must be because its too dark to see the real you, yeah?" Helena added and the man laughed again.
"Its good enough for you, isn't it?" he replied back and sat the plate in front of her, quickly followed by a fork and a knife and a cup of steaming black coffee.
"I take a man home for the night, looking forward to some hot sex, and end up getting breakfast in the morning too? How lucky am I?" she asked sarcastically as she poured some sweet syrup onto the golden waffle.
"Don't forget the dinner!" he added and took a sip of his own coffee, this one with a pinch of sugar and just a hint of creamer.
"Yes, that why I went running. Haven't done that in a while and my heart nearly popped at the exercise!" she laughed and cut a piece of the waffle. Moving the fork with the piece of food attached to the end of it through the maple syrup, she looked up at Richard.
"Well, not everyone had the joy of having me around every night. You are a lucky woman, Helena."
"I am the only one that has the joy of having you around because I am the only one that puts up with you!" she joked with a laugh. He chuckled, obviously amused, and she took the opportunity to take the bite of her food without it getting cold. When it had reached into her mouth, her mouth watered all over again. The syrup had warmed to the waffle's warmth and now laced the waffle like icing on a cake. It was still warm after she chewed it and swallowed it, the sweet taste trickling down her throat. Delicious. Yet again. Stupid pie and waffles. And every other food that Richard made her when he felt like spoiling her.
"You should get ready for work. Not everyone is as perfect mentally as you," he said.
"Bloody hell! I was hoping that no one needed me today and I could stay here with you before you go back to London."
"Sorry, love! You could always strike. . . "
"No. Not good at making signs. Plus, walking around might make my feet hurt."
"Yeah, but wouldn't that help lose all that pie fat you are gonna gain?"
They both laughed in unison, his deep and hearty laugh entwined with her soft and delicate laugh. They had always been good together but neither of them really had the want or need to progress their relationship of two years. Not with his many scientific break-through or her needy patients. So, they just lived life, rolling with the punches and the sort together. It was like a marriage without the affairs, fights, and abstinence.
After taking only the smallest bites to prolong taking a shower despite the sticky feel of sweat, Helena stood up and headed to the bathroom. Richard would do the dishes, as usual. It was all a routine, all day. That's what Helena liked. Change, to her, was not good. Everything could stay the same if everyone just let it. Unfortunately living in a routine, a schedule, had its disadvantages. No longer did she feel the thrill of the unexpected, the occasional inevitable danger with risks, or the sudden spontaneous acts resulting in foolish behavior. But that was what was expected from her. Not everyone could be the therapist.
Like every other day, she disclothed, turned the shower on at a reasonable temperature, and felt the sudden cold of the water before it heated up to her specifications. Lavender shampoo made her auburn hair fill with soapy bubbles and the aloe vera body wash cleansed the filthy perspiration off of her skin that was the colour of Dove soap. She washed it off unconsciously and methodically before emerging from the shower, taking the time to grab a blooming rose hued towel to caress the moisture off of her body and hair. Within five minutes, Helena looked the part of the mature and sophisticated therapist. Her attire was a grey pencil skirt with a white cotton sleeveless turtleneck and finished with a pair of black pumps on her small feet. Her hair was brushed and reaching its full length, ending at the curve of her small breasts, and a pair of silver dangle earrings shimmered when she moved her head in the slightest way. A quick glance in the mirror told her she was ready to go. Unlike Richard, Helena was truly a gorgeous woman, but in an elegant way. Her lips were fair sized, her nose fitting perfectly on her soft yet mature face, and her olive eyes were bright and accented by her lovely locks of auburn silk.
"Oh Helena Jayne, you look delicious," she said to herself before walking out of the bathroom, down the stairs and into the well furnished modern living room where Richard sat watching the news. Richard looked uneasy. "Richard, are you alright?"
He looked up at her, brown eyes full of concern and anguish and. . . did that look like guilt?
"You mustn't go to work today. You need to stay here," said Richard simply.
"What on earth are you talking about?" she asked, starting to feel a bit uneasy herself.
"I need you to lock all the doors, Helena, and make sure all the blinds are closed. Then, go to the attic. I will be in there momentarily."
"Will you tell me what's going on?!"
"Helena. Now. It'll come quickly and we cannot let it in."
Quickly, he got up, turned off the telly and went to the kitchen. She didn't need to be told twice and quickly closed the blinds and checked the door out into the background. What was going to spread quickly? What shouldn't they let in? Better yet, why was Richard acting like a maniac? She moved through the house, closing doors and locking them then closing the blinds and curtains. Zeus must have felt the anxiety in the air, for he followed Helena throughout the house. When she finally got to the attic, Richard was already up there, messing with a small cell phone that he used to contact his colleagues. Helena knew that much. He summoned her in with his hand, pulling the door shut and locking it quicker then she had time to pick up Zeus and turn to him.
"Yeah. I know. It wasn't supposed to happen. I can't - Tom? Tom?! TOM! FUCK!" Richard cursed as he hung up the phone. He turned to Helena, who had Zeus clutched close to her breast and was staring at Richard with big olive eyes.
"What's going on?" she whispered, afraid to say anything louder incase Richard started to act insane again.
"Helena, I think you need to find a place to sit down. I have something to tell you."