Chapter 16: Awakening

There comes a time in life when we wake up to how harsh the world really is. We live a life of bliss and ignorance, and then we stumble across how cruel it is. It snatches away our loved ones, our family, our neighbors or even our possessions and pets. We grieve for our loss, but we mustn't abandon hope. This awakening gives us the strength to go on, and not look back. So long as we are strong, we are not blind, and our eyes are truly open.

The awakening of Terri Wilkinson however was one of a literal sense. The excruciating wait for the woman to awaken was almost unbelievable for Miss McHale.

"You're awake."

The woman stared blankly at her. Her youthful face wore a bewildered smile, and Katy realized not all was as it seemed.

"Mrs. Wilkinson? Can you hear me?" Katy hesitated, before waving a hand before Terri's face. The woman's green eyes followed the movement of Katy's hand, with a jaded stare.

"Is there something wrong?" asked a voice, and Katy turned to see one of the nurses had been watching her. The nurse, young, with dyed pink hair and chewing gum suddenly dropped her clipboard.

"Mrs. Wilkinson? You're awake?" said the young medical student.

"Yes," Terri replied hoarsely. "Yes, I am."

---

Florence lay on the floor of her bedroom, scarcely able to move.

Her limbs ached with exhaustion and lack of nourishment. Her son had brought three square meals a day, but with each serving, Florence's paranoia of poisoning had prohibited her from touching the food.

It seemed centauries ago since she had caused the fatal accident which murdered her beloved husband. He was disloyal, and had slept with woman he'd met in bars. He had beaten Florence senseless, but underneath his tough exterior, Florence had seen the true Sam, and she had felt loved.

Her windows were closed, the bright sunlight masked by the oppressive black curtains which hung over them. The photographs on the walls had been knocked off, their frames shattered.

The bed was untidy, having not been made in weeks. Even in the gloom of the room where dust had begun to settle, ten, long white scratches covered by the wooden door.

"Why am I surrounded by this blood?" asked Florence, caught between reality and delusion.

There was a sudden click, and Florence gathered the effort to lift her head. The door opened, and Bobby entered. He bore no tray of food. Florence mustered the strength to sit up, and did so, propping herself against the wooden chest of drawers.

"Hello Mother." Bobby said, with a pitiless smirk over his face. Florence looked up into his merciless brown eyes, and she whimpered gently, tears staining her graying blouse.

"I was looking through some important documents today." Bobby continued over the gentle sobbing of his mother.

"It appears that everything Dad owned goes to you in the event of death." Bobby said. He reached out, and exerted a cruel grip on his mother's wrist. He pulled her to his feet, and his eyes met with hers. Florence knew nothing of the child which held her captive in her own home.

"It also turns out," Bobby continued, his nails digging into Florence's wrist. She gasped. "That if you die, I get everything you possessed: The house, the money, everything." Bobby began to draw blood from the wrist.

"I promise you Mother. I will avenge Father's death." Bobby said solemnly. "I will kill you."

---

The misty depths of the reflective glass glimmered in the morning sunlight. Mrs. Melissa Johnson had sat before the mirror many times.

She watched as the motes of light danced around her treasured possession, and sighed. She regretted her past. She bemoaned her choices, but most of all, she despised fate.

She stood, her long braided black hair falling silently across her shoulders. Worrisome brown eyes blinked away the tears. At times when her woe overwhelmed her, she turned to faith, to stop her denial and halt her sadness.

"Our Father," she prayed, as she clutched the strange opal dangling around her thin neck. "Who art in Heaven." She closed her eyes, and kneeled, not removing her grasp around her necklace. "I pray for the lost souls. I pray for those who do not believe." She felt the tears trickle down her face.

"I pray for Sonya, who is with you now. Amen." Melissa wept, as the sun rose slowly another day of regret and shame.

---

Meanwhile, at Number 14, a secret was about to be unveiled.

Andrew shuffled the papers awkwardly. Amy had gone out to visit Ellie. Andrew had returned to his research into Terri's murder.

He had information on every resident on this street; dental records to their résumés. One of them was the killer he was seeking.

He poured over the paper work, the laborious task absorbing him both mentally and physically once more.

He turned another sheet in the blue folder, and found himself staring directly into the eyes of his love; Amy Hunt's photo, pasted on a sheet of information about her. He sighed deeply, when a sudden ring emitted from the telephone.

It's single note echoed in the large house. Andrew closed the folder, and picked up the phone. "Hello?" he said.

"Andrew, I've been meaning to talk to you." said the voice on the other end, before coughing and wheezing.

"What is it? I don't have time for chit-chat." Andrew snapped coldly, standing up, holding the cordless phone tightly.

"I remember when you were just a lad, Andrew." said the voice, ignoring the man. "Always trying to play the hero. You were so stubborn."

"I don't have time for reminiscing either." Andrew replied quickly.

"As you wish; Mr. Dale." There was a series of coughs and splutters on the other end. A harsh breathing followed. "It seems your lover isn't as spotless as you would like to have hoped."

Andrew opened his mouth to speak, but the line went dead. "Amy?" he said in disbelief.

Upstairs, Catherine clamped a hand over her mouth, shocked by what she'd just heard from the phone.

"Mommy, what did you do?" she asked the empty room.

---

While Terri was joining the land of the living once more, another surprise was in store for Brad. The treasured home of the Wilkinson's was about to be graced by an unwelcome visitor.

Brad was in the kitchen, acting suspiciously. Locking the door to the kitchen and bolting the back door, he opened a wooden drawer on the cabinet. It seemed to be empty to the untrained eye, but Brad had an unusual cocky smile on his leering face.

Tapping gently on where the back of the cabinet began, it suddenly fell forward, the wooden panel nothing more than a mere disguise.

Hidden in the secret compartment was a fountain of unknown treasures. Wads of fresh, green notes fell out in abundance, and several passports revealed themselves. Trailed beads of pearl necklaces hung out of a deep maroon box.

But most importantly, a silver gun was stashed beneath these riches. Its gleam was speckled by dots of blood, and the chamber was incomplete. Missing one bullet, with the faint stench of gun-powder wafting down the barrel, it was a sight to behold.

Brad lifted the gun carefully, his face contorted into that of pleasure, holding the weapon as if it were made of glass.

A bell rang somewhere distant to Brad, who was lost in his twisted thoughts and memories.

He returned to reality, as his doorbell rang a second time. Returning the gun to its hiding place and replacing the panel, Brad took care to unlock both doors, whilst heading to answer the door.

He undid the latch, when the phone rang. Sighing deeply to himself, he picked up the receiver and a cool, female voice came out of it.

"Mr. Wilkinson, your wife has recovered from her coma."

Brad grinned, as he opened the door. Without a sound, the phone dropped from his hand, landing with a dull clunk on the oak floor. The door was wide open, and Brad gasped at who he saw.

"Hello Brad," Sophie said, stepping into his residence. "It's lovely to see you again,"

---

As Brad received his surprise, another woman was plotting the downfall of Mr. Wilkinson's neighbors.

Maria's eyelids remained closed, her body lifeless to those who cared to look. But to those who looked further, Maria's eyes darted wildly beneath their shut lids.

Not a moment had seemed to pass since Maria had been stabbed. Though robbed of her sight, due to endless slumber, her other senses were alert, wilder than ever.

Her untimely stabbing had been in the morning's papers. A nurse had read the morning paper aloud, as part of her dear niece and nephew-in-law's wish.

Ben and Ellie kept returning to her. Undoubtedly, her plotting niece had put Ben up to this foul task, but she felt no pity for the man who had married such a vicious woman. She despised her niece, Ellie, who had always taken pride in everything, leaving her favorite niece, Tanya, trailing in the dirt.

After Tanya's untimely death, Maria had lingered on, in dire hope for comfort or kindness. However, the only comfort to be sought was that of Ellie Jones, as every other family member had passed on.

Maria refused to loose the battle of life and death. She was awakened to Ellie's true nature, and she had to put a stop to this woman. Charlie was Tanya's child, no matter what the birth certificate said.

Maria would not have an untimely death. She would survive. And she would make Ellie pay for her attempts of murder.

Even if it killed her.

---

The Jones couple wasn't faring so well after Maria's 'attack'. At the mention of her name, Ben's stomach gave a sickening lurch. Troubled by his conscience, he hadn't slept in days. Bloodshot eyes haunted him, in his dreams and wherever else he cared to look.

Ellie struggled on, her guilt being cramped into a tiny corner of her mind. She hoped Maria's injuries would earn her a bed in God's home, but with each day, she feared her least-favorite aunt would survive.

The couple avoided each other, hoping they could avoid awkward moments. Then, the police called.

The doorbell rang twice as Ellie was putting on the kettle. Curiously, she left the steel kettle to heat up, heading to the door, and undoing the latch.

Behind the lace curtains were her greatest fear.

"Ma'am. We are representatives of the Appleby Police department," said a burly man with a thick moustache, but little hair on his head. He was a stout man.

Ellie looked to his right and saw a woman of her own age, a comfortable size with tawny hair and a look of mild curiosity.

With a courteous smile, Mrs. Jones invited the pair in, both of which smiled happily at this invitation, as the weather was becoming colder and bitter in these late autumn days.

Katy smiled kindly as there was a gentle chime. "Your kettle has boiled," she commented.

Ellie flushed. "How did you guess?"

"I have the same type at home. It's shaped like a duck." The female officer replied.

While the other lady went off to pour the tea, both police workers exchanged whispers in a hurried fashion, listening carefully to the sound of steaming hot liquid falling into the china cups.

"She seems friendly." Katy said, naively.
"All murderers do," replied her boss, Collin.

"So you think she attempted to kill Maria?" Katy asked curiously, brushing hair from her eyes.

"I never doubt my instincts," Collin said to her, as Ellie returned, with a plate of cookies and three streaming mugs of tea on a steel tray.

The investigators positioned themselves on the beige leather sofa, opposite the threadbare armchair, where Mrs. Jones sank into.

"Is Mr. Jones available?" Collin said, his plump features narrowing suspiciously.

"My husband is at work," Ellie replied, smiling boldly. "He will be home in an hour,"

"Perhaps we should wait," Collin replied curtly, taking a long slurp of his tea.

Ellie frowned indignantly. "I'd much rather we do this now. I'm afraid the refreshments will run out"

"The refreshments can wait," Collin stood up, spills of tea hitting the lovely carpet.

"They're freshly baked cookies." Ellie snapped, standing up as well. "If they go cold, the flavor won't be as delicious."

"Calm down," Katy said, pulling her boss back into her seat. Ellie quickly rearranged the tray and sat down, crossing her legs and pursing her lips.

"Mrs. Jones," Katy said, after a few moments of agonizing silence. "We need to know if you know anything else about the attempted murder of Maria Stone."

Ellie shook her head, her face a picture of grief. "I'm afraid not" she said.

"I see," Collin said, as the police duo took to their feet. "We'll be in touch," he said, departing from the room.

"If you remember anything," Katy pulled a small, rectangle of plastic and passed it to Ellie. "Give me a call,"

Ellie nodded, and the police officer left, along with her partner.

The police were closing in. And Ellie had never felt more alone.

---

Amy put a hand on her weary and pregnant stomach.

She was packing her belongings from her old house, so she could move in with Andrew. She was searching through her drawers, when she noticed her bottle of Pink Lacoste had vanished. Searching deeper through the drawer, she found her favorite necklace, the silver one with the opal that Matt had purchased for her, was absent.

She continued her search, finding a small bag of an illegal substance. "Cocaine?" she wondered aloud, and then realized whose it was.

"Matt…he's been stealing from me…to fund his habit." She concluded.

She dropped the bag of her clothes, tears in her eyes. She ran for the door, forgetting about the clothes she'd left scattered across the floor.

She ran down the stairs and left via the front door. Sobbing hysterically, she made it to the road, when a car horn piped. And it all went black.

It is difficult in life to accept things happen for a reason. Our awakenings are personal and the shock which accompanies them, never manages to hide our fear and suspicion. The dreaded feeling of betrayal opens our eyes truly to the evils of this world. But no one can ever be fully forgiven for whatever harm they have inflicted. Some wounds never heal, especially those that we try to hide.