PART 5
{November 1, 1999}
The cab pulled up outside Kerry's townhouse in the gloomy late afternoon the following day, and
she looked up at her brownstone house apprehensively. The garbage can that had been on the sidewalk
was gone - she assumed one of her neighbours had returned it to its usual position - and the bathrobe-clad
gathering of curious and concerned neighbours had disappeared. Their interest, which had been piqued
by the commotion outside their homes the previous night, now dissipated. The quietness of the street was
disconcerting; it wasn't any different from what she would usually come home to, yet somehow it seemed
wrong.
"This IS where you wanted to go, isn't it?" asked the battle-worn cab driver. He turned around
and looked at her, his eyes searching for a clue at her inactivity. The deeply etched lines on his face
creased more with worry and he began to wonder whether picking up this patient from the hospital had
been a wise decision. The hospital had already paid for the trip, but the patient's face was extremely pale
except for the deep purple bruise which extended across her fine features from the small patch of white
gauze which covered her left temple, and he hoped she wasn't going to pass out on him.
"Yes. Yes it is." Kerry's voice gained strength as she spoke, confidence sparked and flared for
a moment in her attitude as she gathered up the crutch that Maggie had arranged for her. Maggie had
taken the time to provide her with not only the crutch, but also with scrubs, shoes, and a warm jacket.
Pushing the door open, Kerry slowly got out of the cab, leaning heavily on her crutch for support.
While the dizziness had abated, she still felt extremely weary and the headache persevered, the steady
pulsating pressure sapping her strength. Digging deep into the pocket of the large, navy jacket which
enveloped her small frame, she located her house keys which had been left for her at the hospital by the
police together with her purse. The cab left as soon as she was safely on the pavement.
She gingerly made her way up the steps to her home, keeping her head down, and concentrated
on putting one foot ahead of the other, careful not to miss a step. Kerry winced as the muscles in her legs
ached at the added strain of climbing the stairs. The detectives had been true to their word; the glass in her
front door had been replaced and the frame of her door had been fixed. Apparently the police had a
'clean-up' team available for crimes where a home of a victim had been vandalised.
Kerry's fingers fumbled with the key for the lock, missing the keyhole. She tried again, her fingers
trembling, and the keys rattled in her hand. The sound of footsteps resounded on the pavement behind her.
Kerry whipped around to face the street, her heart thumping heavily in her chest, and her breath came in
short, rasping gasps. A lone female jogger, dressed in blue sweats with earphones in her ears, passed by
her.
Leaning her head back against the door, Kerry closed her eyes and let out a slow, long breath to
calm her pounding heart. She was relieved at the innocuousness of the footsteps. With a quick sigh, she
pushed herself up off the door, and slipped the key into the lock, opening the door on her first try.
Moving inside, Kerry shut the door firmly behind her, locking the door and setting the deadlock,
before putting the chain in place.. She switched on the hallway light, illuminating the passage that ran the
full length of her house, before walking through to her living room, where she also turned on the light.
Dropping her keys and purse down on her desk, she noticed that the red light on her answering machine
was flashing.
She wasn't sure who could have been ringing. Early this morning, she had contacted Mark and
let him know that she had had a fall, necessitating a day off work. Mark had been worried, questioning
her about what had happened and she had brushed off his concern about her health. Reassuring him that
she'd received the necessary medical treatment, she had finally ended the call, unsure whether she had
allayed his anxiety.
Right now she didn't want to even contemplate who had left the message and had no intention to
finding out either. Turning the lights on in the kitchen as she left the room, she went up the stairs to her
bedroom. Switching on the lights as she entered, she found that the quilt had been removed from her bed,
taken by the police as evidence she assumed, leaving behind the heavy woollen blanket with its
imperfections, usually covered by the quilt, exposed for all to see. Approaching the bed, she took off the
heavy coat and dropped it onto the bed, the house warm from the central heating left on overnight.
Kerry noticed that fingerprint dust lightly covered the bedposts in a couple of places, the cleaners
having missed several spots on the carved wood. After placing her crutch beside the nightstand, she
paused, running her hands through her short hair as she took stock of the room. Closing her eyes, she
dropped her head into her hands, gently kneading her temples with her forefingers to ease the headache,
as she sought to control the fear that was threatening to overwhelm her.
Taking a deep breath and dropping her hands to her sides, she limped into the bathroom. Turning
on the hot water faucet, she removed the scrub top and pants while she waited for the water to warm.
Catching sight of herself in the mirror, she paused to take stock of the damage that had been inflicted the
previous night.
Her wrists and ankles bore wide lacerations, the areas a faint brownish tinge, having been treated
with betadine at Mercy Hospital. Heavy bruises marred the smooth skin of both her arms where he had
obviously grabbed her and a faint discolouration could be seen across her left rib cage which she imagined
came from when she had fallen at the top of the basement stairs.
The contusions to her face made it hard to recognise as her own, the brusing distorting her features.
Her right eye had a subconjunctival hemorrhage, the eyelids heavily swollen and only allowing a faint
measure of her eye to be seen between its puffy lids.
She sighed, telling herself that she was lucky, that it could have been worse, much worse.
Removing the last of her clothes, she turned on the cold water and tested it before stepping under the warm
spray. As she stood there, she shivered and turned the heat up several times before she felt an ounce of
the warmth that was producing a thick, heavy steam that filled the room.
Grabbing the loofah and soap, she methodically began to scrub, starting at her arms and moving
her way down her body, debriding herself of any trace of HIM; any scent, hair or anything that could be
remotely attached to his being. She took small comfort in the fact that the rape exam had revealled no
tearing or sign of him having invaded her body physically as she continued to ruthlessly scour her body,
ignoring the droplets of blood that broke free from the lacerations on her ankles, and mingled with the
soapy water swirling down the drain.
She pushed aside the thoughts tumbling around in her mind, forcing herself to concentrate on her
ministrations. The cake of soap slipped from her fingers to the shower floor, hitting the ground with a dull
thud. Looking down at the soap, she finally noticed the trickles of blood seeping from her ankles. All the
efforts to hold in her fears, her tears broke like a dam and mixed with the water. She choked on her tears
as she sank to the bottom of the shower stall, the spray of water flowing over and around her. Her head
leaning against the cold, hard wall tiles, she allowed the tears to fall unabated, crying tears of relief that she
hadn't been raped and tears of pain at the invasion and loss of her privacy.
The water started to cool down and Kerry didn't know how long she'd been sitting on the shower
stall floor. Her tears had subsided and it penetrated her consciousness that she was cold, goose bumps
covering her whole body. Pulling herself to her feet with some effort, using the silver aide handle affixed
to the wall, she found that the muscles in her legs had stiffened from her time on the wet floor. She turned
off the taps and carefully stepped out of the shower, painfully aware of all her joints and muscles, the
purpose of the shower to relieve tension destroyed by her crying bout.
Digging through her pyjama drawer, she cast aside the light-weight shirts and attractive negligees
in favour of a flannelette pyjama top and pants. Slipping them on, she went into the kitchen to make herself
a drink. She contemplated pouring herself a scotch or just a simple glass of wine, but remembered that
Josh had given her some medication which contraindicated the consumption of alcohol. Resorting to a cup
of coffee, Kerry took the easy way out and made it with instant. After living in Africa, she struggled to
drink it at the best of times, but right now, she couldn't even consider grinding the beans and setting the
percolator going.
While she was waiting for the water to heat on the stove, she noticed the red light on her answering
machine still flashing. Moving to the machine, she depressed the button and waited as the tape began with
the slow whirr of the spools turning.
Kerry didn't recognise the voice initially as the message started, the words holding a chill of their
own, and as the voice continued, she felt fear take her in her grasp once again, her blood running cold at
her intruder's words; "Don't think this is the end. I'll be watching you."
End Part 5
{November 1, 1999}
The cab pulled up outside Kerry's townhouse in the gloomy late afternoon the following day, and
she looked up at her brownstone house apprehensively. The garbage can that had been on the sidewalk
was gone - she assumed one of her neighbours had returned it to its usual position - and the bathrobe-clad
gathering of curious and concerned neighbours had disappeared. Their interest, which had been piqued
by the commotion outside their homes the previous night, now dissipated. The quietness of the street was
disconcerting; it wasn't any different from what she would usually come home to, yet somehow it seemed
wrong.
"This IS where you wanted to go, isn't it?" asked the battle-worn cab driver. He turned around
and looked at her, his eyes searching for a clue at her inactivity. The deeply etched lines on his face
creased more with worry and he began to wonder whether picking up this patient from the hospital had
been a wise decision. The hospital had already paid for the trip, but the patient's face was extremely pale
except for the deep purple bruise which extended across her fine features from the small patch of white
gauze which covered her left temple, and he hoped she wasn't going to pass out on him.
"Yes. Yes it is." Kerry's voice gained strength as she spoke, confidence sparked and flared for
a moment in her attitude as she gathered up the crutch that Maggie had arranged for her. Maggie had
taken the time to provide her with not only the crutch, but also with scrubs, shoes, and a warm jacket.
Pushing the door open, Kerry slowly got out of the cab, leaning heavily on her crutch for support.
While the dizziness had abated, she still felt extremely weary and the headache persevered, the steady
pulsating pressure sapping her strength. Digging deep into the pocket of the large, navy jacket which
enveloped her small frame, she located her house keys which had been left for her at the hospital by the
police together with her purse. The cab left as soon as she was safely on the pavement.
She gingerly made her way up the steps to her home, keeping her head down, and concentrated
on putting one foot ahead of the other, careful not to miss a step. Kerry winced as the muscles in her legs
ached at the added strain of climbing the stairs. The detectives had been true to their word; the glass in her
front door had been replaced and the frame of her door had been fixed. Apparently the police had a
'clean-up' team available for crimes where a home of a victim had been vandalised.
Kerry's fingers fumbled with the key for the lock, missing the keyhole. She tried again, her fingers
trembling, and the keys rattled in her hand. The sound of footsteps resounded on the pavement behind her.
Kerry whipped around to face the street, her heart thumping heavily in her chest, and her breath came in
short, rasping gasps. A lone female jogger, dressed in blue sweats with earphones in her ears, passed by
her.
Leaning her head back against the door, Kerry closed her eyes and let out a slow, long breath to
calm her pounding heart. She was relieved at the innocuousness of the footsteps. With a quick sigh, she
pushed herself up off the door, and slipped the key into the lock, opening the door on her first try.
Moving inside, Kerry shut the door firmly behind her, locking the door and setting the deadlock,
before putting the chain in place.. She switched on the hallway light, illuminating the passage that ran the
full length of her house, before walking through to her living room, where she also turned on the light.
Dropping her keys and purse down on her desk, she noticed that the red light on her answering machine
was flashing.
She wasn't sure who could have been ringing. Early this morning, she had contacted Mark and
let him know that she had had a fall, necessitating a day off work. Mark had been worried, questioning
her about what had happened and she had brushed off his concern about her health. Reassuring him that
she'd received the necessary medical treatment, she had finally ended the call, unsure whether she had
allayed his anxiety.
Right now she didn't want to even contemplate who had left the message and had no intention to
finding out either. Turning the lights on in the kitchen as she left the room, she went up the stairs to her
bedroom. Switching on the lights as she entered, she found that the quilt had been removed from her bed,
taken by the police as evidence she assumed, leaving behind the heavy woollen blanket with its
imperfections, usually covered by the quilt, exposed for all to see. Approaching the bed, she took off the
heavy coat and dropped it onto the bed, the house warm from the central heating left on overnight.
Kerry noticed that fingerprint dust lightly covered the bedposts in a couple of places, the cleaners
having missed several spots on the carved wood. After placing her crutch beside the nightstand, she
paused, running her hands through her short hair as she took stock of the room. Closing her eyes, she
dropped her head into her hands, gently kneading her temples with her forefingers to ease the headache,
as she sought to control the fear that was threatening to overwhelm her.
Taking a deep breath and dropping her hands to her sides, she limped into the bathroom. Turning
on the hot water faucet, she removed the scrub top and pants while she waited for the water to warm.
Catching sight of herself in the mirror, she paused to take stock of the damage that had been inflicted the
previous night.
Her wrists and ankles bore wide lacerations, the areas a faint brownish tinge, having been treated
with betadine at Mercy Hospital. Heavy bruises marred the smooth skin of both her arms where he had
obviously grabbed her and a faint discolouration could be seen across her left rib cage which she imagined
came from when she had fallen at the top of the basement stairs.
The contusions to her face made it hard to recognise as her own, the brusing distorting her features.
Her right eye had a subconjunctival hemorrhage, the eyelids heavily swollen and only allowing a faint
measure of her eye to be seen between its puffy lids.
She sighed, telling herself that she was lucky, that it could have been worse, much worse.
Removing the last of her clothes, she turned on the cold water and tested it before stepping under the warm
spray. As she stood there, she shivered and turned the heat up several times before she felt an ounce of
the warmth that was producing a thick, heavy steam that filled the room.
Grabbing the loofah and soap, she methodically began to scrub, starting at her arms and moving
her way down her body, debriding herself of any trace of HIM; any scent, hair or anything that could be
remotely attached to his being. She took small comfort in the fact that the rape exam had revealled no
tearing or sign of him having invaded her body physically as she continued to ruthlessly scour her body,
ignoring the droplets of blood that broke free from the lacerations on her ankles, and mingled with the
soapy water swirling down the drain.
She pushed aside the thoughts tumbling around in her mind, forcing herself to concentrate on her
ministrations. The cake of soap slipped from her fingers to the shower floor, hitting the ground with a dull
thud. Looking down at the soap, she finally noticed the trickles of blood seeping from her ankles. All the
efforts to hold in her fears, her tears broke like a dam and mixed with the water. She choked on her tears
as she sank to the bottom of the shower stall, the spray of water flowing over and around her. Her head
leaning against the cold, hard wall tiles, she allowed the tears to fall unabated, crying tears of relief that she
hadn't been raped and tears of pain at the invasion and loss of her privacy.
The water started to cool down and Kerry didn't know how long she'd been sitting on the shower
stall floor. Her tears had subsided and it penetrated her consciousness that she was cold, goose bumps
covering her whole body. Pulling herself to her feet with some effort, using the silver aide handle affixed
to the wall, she found that the muscles in her legs had stiffened from her time on the wet floor. She turned
off the taps and carefully stepped out of the shower, painfully aware of all her joints and muscles, the
purpose of the shower to relieve tension destroyed by her crying bout.
Digging through her pyjama drawer, she cast aside the light-weight shirts and attractive negligees
in favour of a flannelette pyjama top and pants. Slipping them on, she went into the kitchen to make herself
a drink. She contemplated pouring herself a scotch or just a simple glass of wine, but remembered that
Josh had given her some medication which contraindicated the consumption of alcohol. Resorting to a cup
of coffee, Kerry took the easy way out and made it with instant. After living in Africa, she struggled to
drink it at the best of times, but right now, she couldn't even consider grinding the beans and setting the
percolator going.
While she was waiting for the water to heat on the stove, she noticed the red light on her answering
machine still flashing. Moving to the machine, she depressed the button and waited as the tape began with
the slow whirr of the spools turning.
Kerry didn't recognise the voice initially as the message started, the words holding a chill of their
own, and as the voice continued, she felt fear take her in her grasp once again, her blood running cold at
her intruder's words; "Don't think this is the end. I'll be watching you."
End Part 5