Chapter 3.7 (Part Two - Mrs Appleby's Grand Plan)
Climbing the steps to Mrs Appleby's house, the last drops of sunlight steadily melting over the horizon, Tiffany gave her head a shake. With these recent revelations had come everything but what she had long expected. She felt no closure. No warmth and comfort in the answers provided. Instead, she could only feel her anxiety growing, the list of questions sitting at the back of her mind now rapidly expanding as she attempted to gather her thoughts and replay the last hour, the resulting conversation, over and over in her mind. Why did this have to happen now? She was moving on. Chucky well and truly in the past, the 'childish' stories and beliefs kicked to the kerb as the future seemed to open up and embrace Tiffany, offering a redemption she had never thought possible. Now, as she reached the final step and came to a breathless stop before the huge house, she couldn't even think straight. The past unceremoniously excavated and presented to her on a platter as Jack Fuller sat across the desk of Mrs Appleby's office and proceeded to enlighten her, the stories, the claims, every one of them so outlandish, yet riddled with immaculate detail that now prompted Tiffany to delve further. This was the reason she had to get away from Mount Carroll and return to the city.
Immediately.
Pushing open the heavy front door of the house, Tiffany entered the hall and began to slowly jog towards the staircase the voice of Mrs Appleby screeching from the parlour.
"Tiffany?" She seemed to question the noise from the front door.
"Just a minute!" Tiffany half turned and hollered back, reaching the staircase in no time at all and leaping two steps at a time, the thick carpet underfoot adding a feeling of warmth as her heart raced with every step. Approaching the upper hallway, Tiffany swung her body left and proceeded to surge along the hall, reaching her room in no time and throwing open the door, crossing the cluttered floor and pulling open the heavy doors of her wardrobe, the wall of clothes waiting within. Sinking to her knees, Tiffany thrust her hand into the darkness, feeling around, hands wandering, until she felt the familiar touch of leather. Withdrawing her arm, bag clenched in her fist, Tiffany threw it to the floor and shot to her feet, frantically ripping garment after garment from the hangers before her, rolling, folding, shoving and cramming as much as she could into the hold all now sat by her feet. T-shirts, dresses, skirts, jeans, heels, sneakers, you name it, Tiffany rammed it into the bag before turning to her dresser and yanking open the top drawer. Rifling through her underwear, she came across the knife come nail file that had once savagely sliced through the stomach of Evan Carter, cut the throat of Harry Marsh to ribbons, and tossed it into the bag, one last look around the room as she prepared to depart. Reaching back into the wardrobe, she retrieved the dusty, dormant leather jacket from its hanger and threw it across her back, arms gently sliding down the sleeves, before gently raising her hands and removing the bobble from her hair, flicking her long blonde locks over the collar of the jacket and allowing them to settle naturally, giving her head a slight shake. Suddenly bending and grabbing the handles of the now heavy bag, Tiffany tried to pull the zip closed, the contents fighting back as the bag bulged, Tiffany finally victorious as she lifted and threw the heavy hold all over her shoulder before bidding a final farewell to the room. Galloping along the corridor and reaching the staircase, Tiffany soon found herself on the ground floor again, hurriedly dropping her bag by the the front door as she grabbed the keys to Mrs Appleby's car, the pristine condition Plymouth Fury resting peacefully in the barn behind the store. Placing the keys in the pocket of her leather jacket and crossing the ground floor hall, she approached the parlour, Mrs Appleby's beckoning not forgotten as Tiffany placed a hand on the parlour door and slowly eased it open a touch. Sticking her head through the gap, the dimly lit room embroiled in shadows cast from the open fire, the flames leaping and licking with a dull crackle Tiffany took in the view. There, on the couch, sat Mrs Appleby, book spread open on her lap, glasses balancing delicately upon the end of her nose as rain slowly began to patter against the bay window behind her.
"You wanted me?" Tiffany quietly asked, a half hearted smile appearing on her lips.
"Is everything alright?" The old woman asked, placing her bookmark between the pages and slamming the thick, leather bound book closed.
"Yes, it's fine." Tiffany lied. "I just have to go out for a bit."
"But it's raining." Mrs Appleby seemed surprised, turning to the bay window behind her, the darkness drawing in as the rain began to sound heavier against the glass.
"I'll not be long." Tiffany replied, her face still peering through the gap in the door. "I just need to sort some things out."
"Has that idiot said something to upset you?" The old woman again queried.
"No..." Tiffany's voice began to strain, her patience starting to elude her as she desperately tried to get away from the mini interrogation now fully underway. "I just need to clear my head. Give me a minute and I'll get you a drink."
"Thank you." Mrs Appleby smiled, opening her book and returning to whatever lurked upon the pages.
Closing the door behind her Tiffany turned and began walking, her head still spinning as she raced to prepare for her trip, passing the stairs as she entered the huge kitchen before her, a flash of lightning for a split second illuminating the worktops and allowing all manner of shadows to dance along the walls. Flicking the switch as she entered, passing the heavy trunk still nestled by the doorway, the kitchen light flickered into life as she made her way to the sink grabbing the kettle on her way past. Spinning the handle of the tap and placing the open kettle beneath, Tiffany stood motionless as she waited for the kettle to fill, her mind wandering as she continued time and again to recall Jack's words, the stories he had spun, everything. As the water reached the spout of the steel appliance, Tiffany turned the tap and shut off the water, the pressure dying instantly as she turned and made her way back to the hob, igniting the burner as she rested the kettle above. Within a second, the kitchen lights died, the entire house plunged into darkness as a crackle of thunder hammered in the distance, another flash of lightning, this time lighting up the huge garden out back as Tiffany jumped a mile.
"Fuck me..." She placed a hand on her chest and exhaled, the fright causing her to visibly jump as the rain grew faster, heavier, the gentle shower turning to a downpour in an instant. Without turning from the kitchen window, she felt a presence, the small, feeble body of Mrs Appleby standing in the kitchen doorway as she calmly addressed Tiffany, the words rolling from her dry, weathered lips as she spoke.
"Did you find out anything else about Chucky?" She asked innocently, her words falling on her young guest, now stood in a lethargic pose, arms spread wide as the palms of her hands supported her against the smooth marble work surface. Staring vacantly through the window before her, Tiffany's reply began automatically, her mind racing as she started to answer.
"You could say that..." She began, instantly stopping as her body froze, hairs standing as one, heart seeming to skip a beat as a deathly silence fell upon the kitchen and a chill worked its way up her spine. Gathering herself, Tiffany spun on the spot, the empty cup knocked suddenly from the worktop as she accidentally caught it with her hand, shattering as it impacted upon the floor and splintering into hundreds of pieces, Tiffany unflinching as she gave Mrs Appleby a curious look and whispered in a state of shock. "What did you just say?"
Clutching the thick, leather bound book to her chest, both hands clenching it tight as a wry smile formed along her lips, Mrs Appleby narrowed her eyes. Yet another crackle of thunder, the flash of lightning briefly swamping the hall beyond the old woman as her tiny frame cast a silhouette in the doorway of the kitchen, the mysterious trunk resting by her knees as she answered Tiffany slowly, calmly and sternly.
"You heard what I said." Mrs Appleby's voice floated through the air, Tiffany's brain now working overtime as the situation unfolded. "I asked if you'd found out any more about Chucky."
Stunned, disbelief washing over her, Tiffany began to shake her head, her breath becoming shallower as her chest pounded and a million questions seemed to rear their heads at once. Without thinking, her lips started to move, autopilot kicking in as she found herself speaking, unable to finish as Mrs Appleby finished her question for her.
"How do you..." Tiffany began.
"Know?" Appleby finished, hugging the thick, red leather of the book tighter still and nonchalantly flicking a strand of long, greasy hair from her face. "I've always known, you stupid girl! From day one, and before that. I also know about Officer Marsh, but I've stayed quiet... So far."
"What?" Tiffany's tone sounded hollow, her voice breaking slightly. "Why?"
"It was no coincidence." Mrs Appleby began. "You coming here I mean."
A smugness seemed to ruminate from the old woman's words, her demeanour changing instantly as she now stood before Tiffany and let the explanation flow without a care in the world.
"I registered in this infernal 'Inmate Rehabilitation' program almost four years ago now... Around the time of your incarceration to be more precise. From that point I'd keep my eye out, checking regularly, watching, waiting, anticipating your release. I've never been happier than the day I saw your name on that parole list. It was all so perfect, Rita was right here with me going through the list. Naturally she was apprehensive about putting somebody with a record like yours with a vulnerable old woman like me, but I soon talked her round. Told her how good it could be for you, and boy did she ever fall for it."
"I..." Tiffany stuttered, taking an influx of rapid, short, breaths. "I don't understand... I don't get it."
Taking a single step forward, Mrs Appleby lifted the book from her chest and held it up, turning so the front cover was now plainly visible to Tiffany, another flash of lightning as a clap of thunder boomed over the town below.
"It's all in here." She smiled, Tiffany having to squint as she fought to make out the title of the book. Printed across the cover were words that any other time wouldn't have made Tiffany blink once, but the situation unravelling as it was, the way the book was being thrust in her face, she now felt a sickness sweeping over her as she read the title to herself.
'Who, When & Where?
America's Most Infamous Serial Killers'
Mouth hanging open in a stunned silence, Tiffany listened as Mrs Appleby continued.
"Bundy... Gacy... Dahmer... These people have fascinated me over the years."
"Ray?" Tiffany snapped her glare to the little old woman before her.
"Charles Lee Ray wasn't what I would call interesting." Mrs Appleby answered in an instant. "I mean, all this 'voodoo' added a fresh angle to what, over time, has become such a stagnant topic."
"I still don't understand." Tiffany snapped, her mind clearing steadily, her anger beginning to bubble.
"It was what happened after you see..." Appleby calmly carried on. "That's what caught my attention. The rumours and court case surrounding a supposed 'killer doll', possessed by the spirit of none other than the late Mr Ray. The whispers that he had found a way to live on, effectively cheat death, that's what pulled me in."
A pause, the silence deafening as both women stood in abject silence, another rumble of thunder and a double flash from the skies above the house.
"That was when I started paying more attention to Charles Lee Ray." Mrs Appleby continued. "Discovering the young lover, a prostitute and drug addict, cast aside in favour of the woman in the basement. The same young lover that I would later hear had been incarcerated at Logan Correctional Centre for the attempted murder of her flat mate. One Evan Carter?"
Breathing heavily, a revulsion filling the pit of her stomach, Tiffany snarled through clenched teeth as tears began to roll over her soft cheeks.
"Why would these things interest anybody?" She asked. "You of all people."
Holding her arms out before her, Mrs Appleby watched as Tiffany's eyes dropped to her pale, wrinkled skin. The veins, lurking beneath the incredibly fragile tissue, spiralled visibly down each arm, twists and turns of blues and purples, the wrinkled, weathered skin barely offering any protection whatsoever.
"Why do you think?" She spat at Tiffany. "Do I look like I'm getting any younger? I'm getting old, not that I'd expect a selfish little bitch like you to show any sympathy. There's so much I want to experience before I die, especially now my Gerald isn't here to hold me back."
The tone in Mrs Appleby's voice had now taken on a savage, demented twist as she began to rant, her eyes lighting as though a fire had sparked in her brain.
"That's all he ever did!" She carried on, Tiffany listening as her body tensed and prepared itself for what may come. "Ever since we married. Of course, you couldn't get divorced, not in those days, oh no. People looked at you like nothing more than a common slut if you took the easy way out. It was his death that set me free... Do you see?"
"Jesus Christ..." Tiffany took a step back in disgust, her back now flat up against the corner of the kitchen worktop. "You killed him..."
"Damn right I did." The reply was stern, justified. "Soon as I heard all these rumours, I knew what I had to do. They never suspected a thing either. The sweet, well spoken housewife? Never even crossed their minds."
"I still don't get what this has to do with me." Tiffany asked, seeing Mrs Appleby beginning to grow gradually unstable and trying to keep things calm, all the while her eyes scanning the darkness of the kitchen for a weapon of some sort.
"I don't expect you to." Appleby gave a small chuckle. "See this is the reason I wanted you here all along. It's taken time alright, girl after girl, each one more repulsive and despicable than the last, but by God I knew it would be worth it to get you here. The holy grail so to speak."
"How do you mean?" Tiffany asked, genuinely confused by this point.
"If anybody can discover Charles Lee Ray's secrets it's you!" Mrs Appleby grinned, leaning over the heavy trunk by her feet and placing the book upon the kitchen worktop. "It's simple really. Get his junkie, slut girlfriend here and somehow encourage her to reveal how he pulls off his little 'party trick', helping me live on. In your body no less, despite the fact you let that grease monkey have his way with it, it'll have to do."
"You make such a farfetched story seem so simple." Tiffany laughed, wiping a tear from her eye.
"It would have been so much simpler had you not decided to 'take care' of Rita in such an ugly manner." Appleby snapped.
"She fell!" Tiffany gasped. "You saw it... I didn't kill her..."
"I know what I saw." The old woman interrupted, venom I'm her words. "You had the chance to help her and you didn't. That's as good as murder in my book. If it hadn't been for me, covering up for you and agreeing it was an 'accident' then where would you be right now?"
"So you did that for yourself?" Tiffany cried, astounded. "To keep me here?"
"Then we had that friend of hers show up..." Mrs Appleby proceeded, seeming to not even hear Tiffany as her voice took on a subtle tinge of amusement. "Putting us right back at square one. Needless to say he didn't make it far. Not back to Chicago anyway. In fact I'll never forget the look he gave me, as he cowered in fear, you know that look they give you?"
Tiffany's eyes widened in horror as she listened, the picture building in her mind as she recalled the evening in question, Mrs Appleby continuing with enthusiasm.
"That look they give you as they actually realise it's over. That there's no going back. No matter how much they cry, how much they beg, no matter how pathetic they look."
"You're fucking sick." Tiffany brought a hand to her mouth, now open in shock. "I can't believe what you're telling me!"
Suddenly an eruption of laughter reverberated around the kitchen, the echo amplifying the evil cackle tenfold as Mrs Appleby threw back her head and giggled, slowly returning her gaze to Tiffany.
"What's so sick about wanting to live you idiot?" A twist of hatred in her tone as she spat her bile. "Was it so sick when you murdered officer Marsh for the remains of that infernal doll?"
Silence...
"What was that like?" Appleby carried on. "I've been wanting so badly to ask, ever since you arrived a year ago. More to the point, what exactly did you learn from that little event? What did you find out?"
"Nothing..." Tiff's voice simply a whisper as she stood, stunned, her lower back resting against the kitchen work surface.
"BULLSHIT!" Mrs Appleby hollered at her, fury evident in both her face and her bite as Tiffany pushed herself forward and snapped, screaming straight back.
"That doll had no fucking head!" Her words seemed to surprise the old, Mrs Appleby recoiling slightly. "So unless you expected it to talk out of its ass there's nothing I could do!"
Without saying a word, Mrs Appleby dropped instantly to her knees, chuckling to herself as she fell to the floor and grabbed a hold of the padlock of the heavy trunk by her side. Pulling a key from her apron, she began to fiddle with the lock, mumbling to herself as she did so, the amusement obvious in her voice.
"I know that feeling well." She mumbled. "The anti-climax at the end of a well laid plan I mean. The moment it all goes tits up due to somebody else's incompetence."
Wrestling with the heavy, steel padlock, turning the key and allowing it to drop with a 'thud' to the kitchen floor, Mrs Appleby threw open the lid, a small cloud of dust flying into the air as she reached inside and grabbed something, standing as she did so as Tiffany looked on astonished. In her hand, clenched in her fist and hanging by a tattered and dirt covered leg, was a Good Guy doll. Opposite leg hanging limply by its side, arms outstretched as though praying towards the ground, spinning slightly as it came to a stop and allowed Tiffany to take a closer look. The face was obliterated. Folded in on itself, the rubber coating split in a multitude of places, the doll looked like it had seen better days. The denim overalls were absolutely covered in dirt, soil by the looks of it, and the once vibrant colours of its striped sweater were now nothing other than faded, half chewed material, the dust obviously ground in over a substantial period of time. The red hair had also taken on a more neutral tone, the mistreatment of the past years obviously not agreeing with it one bit. As Tiffany's eyes worked upwards over the doll, hanging in the shaking, outstretched hand of Mrs Appleby, she felt her blood pressure begin to increase, a pounding of repetitive pulses in her ears as she found herself speechless, simply allowing her former friend to explain.
"You think you're the first person to bribe a cop?" Mrs Appleby asked innocently, her tone turning nastier as she continued. "This was from the Simpson murders, back in 1990. No doubt Mr Fuller mentioned that during your little 'chat'."
Tiffany nodded.
"Ten thousand dollars I paid for this to 'disappear'. Money well spent, considering what it could possibly lead to. Imagine my disappointment when it finally arrives, the answer to my prayers, then I discover it's nothing but a plain, ordinary toy!"
Pulling the doll towards her and gripping it around the chest with her free hand, Mrs Appleby applied pressure and the doll began to speak. The voicebox sounded weathered, the once happy greeting now nothing but a stuttering, faltering drone as the mechanism worked its hardest, the voice now filling the kitchen one of the eeriest Tiffany had ever heard.
"Hi..." The dying voice began, sweeping randomly in pitch as the voice cassette laboured. "I'm Tommy... And I'm your... Friend... To the end... Hidey... Ho... Ha ha... Haaaaaaaaaaaaa..."
As the voice lingered, the motor seizing within the doll, Mrs Appleby let rip with a furious punch square in the back of the dolls head, the voice dying instantly before the old woman pulled back and threw with what little strength she had, heaving it with a smash into the kitchen worktop, the doll came to a stop, face down, arms by its side in a star shape.
"That ten thousand dollars was the last of my inheritance." Mrs Appleby sneered as she returned her attention to Tiffany. "Now I' m struggling, every day, you've seen how quiet the store is... The interstate doesn't help either. Thanks to that doll and the lying sack of shit I bought it from, I'm practically bankrupt!"
"Good." Tiffany smiled, laughing as she did spoke. "I hope you die a penniless, old spinster with nothing to your name. Not even friends. Because that's going to be a fucking lonely graveside."
"On the contrary my dear girl." Appleby calmly answered. "With you here I see nothing but good things for my future. You see, you're going to give me that chance to be young again. Live countless lives in luxury."
"What?" Tiffany asked, puzzled, staggered.
"Do you know how much people would be willing to pay? To know the things you're going to help me find out?" Mrs Appleby asked, closing her eyes as a ripple of ecstasy came over her.
"You're crazy!" Tiffany shook her head.
"They'd pay millions. And more..." Appleby continued as Tiffany looked at her in horror.
"You really do have this planned out don't you?" She gasped.
"I have done for a long time." The old woman crowed back at her with a justified nod of the head. "And I'll never be closer than I am right now. So tell me what you found out from that cock sucker Jack Fuller!"
"NOTHING!" Tiffany's response was sharp and sudden, perhaps a little too sudden, a silence falling over the pair as Mrs Appleby examined her closely, eyes fixed on Tiff as she simply smiled and slowly shook her head.
"No..." She playfully said. "You're lying!"
"I'm not!" Tiffany answered, her voice a whimper.
"You know something..." Mrs Appleby began to nod, her smile disappearing as her entire body became paralysed, enlightenment suddenly dawning from some corner of her brain. "You know where the doll is don't you?"
"I don't know what you're talking about." Tiffany lied, turning her head, afraid her face may break, give the game away.
Too late, Mrs Appleby one step ahead.
"Don't you fucking lie to me you manipulative little, slut!" She hissed. "I know for a fact he came back! It was in the papers. The Simpson murders, the Barclay boy said he'd come after him again. NOW TELL ME!"
Lip trembling, a fear beginning to creep across her shoulders, Tiffany suddenly found herself doing something she hadn't done in years. She wished Chucky was there. Like he used to be. A coiled spring, ready to leap to her defence, deal with whatever stood in their way, no matter how that ended up working out. But the simple fact was that he wasn't. He wasn't there, and he wasn't going to save her. Not this time. Now, as she dug deep, Tiffany once more answered, her reply not one of innocence, but instead one of defiance.
"I'm telling you shit, you wrinkled little cunt!"
As if by magic, almost as though a switch had been invisibly flicked, Mrs Appleby's persona changed. Her face screwed into a rage the likes of which Tiffany had never seen, which was saying something, the old woman swung to her left, towards the block of knives resting on the surface of the kitchen worktop. Grabbing the butcher knife by the handle and withdrawing it with a satisfying scrape of metal on wood, she turned back to Tiffany and took a step forward. As a crash of lightning illuminated the kitchen, the blade of the knife blunted, the flash from the cold steel lighting up the old woman's eyes as she gritted her teeth and strained her words towards Tiffany, a rumble of thunder in the distance providing a terrifying accompaniment.
"Alright..." She spat. "Then I'll 'make' you talk!"
Without uttering another word, Mrs Appleby stepped forward, knife raised as Tiffany brought her hands to her face, an attempt to shield the inevitable attack coming her way. Unable to stop herself, Tiffany suddenly found the words falling from the tip of her tongue, Mrs Appleby stopping yards away, lowering the knife as she took in the words.
"The factory!" Tiffany blurted. "He took Andy Barclay to the toy factory!"
"Play Pals?" Mrs Appleby's eyes hovered left to right as she let the information sink in.
"Jack Fuller told me." Tiffany carried on. "That's where the body is. The doll!"
"Is it still there?" The old woman asked, jabbing the knife towards Tiffany in a threatening manner. Tiffany nodded.
"Still there..." She answered. "Still rotting. But the factory's been abandoned for years. Jack says they shut down production suddenly. Locked the place down. He says security's the tightest he's ever seen."
"I can imagine..."Mrs Appleby nodded in agreement. "Those fuckers are hiding it from the public. They know what happened in there!"
Another silence fell over the pair as Tiffany regained her composure, the shrivelled little woman before her now in the middle of formulating her next move, the cobwebs clearing as her elderly neurons fired into life, her brain searching for her next move. Suddenly she smiled, a wave of the knife as she motioned towards the kitchen door, now situated behind her frail little body.
"Move your ass." Her voice crackled with a fresh energy as her eyes ignited in optimism and exuberance. "We're going for a drive."
"Where?" Tiffany calmly asked, confused.
"The city." Appleby replied. "That factory."
"No..." Tiffany responded firmly.
"I need that fucking doll..." Mrs Appleby raised the knife once more. "I'm through waiting. I need that doll... To find out his secret. Then when I've done that I'll put you both out of your misery. But don't worry, at least you'll be together. In a fashion. Meanwhile, I'll be free to enjoy my newly discovered youth. Your body will do, for now, but long term I think I'll go for something a little more... Pure."
With that, a fire exploded in Tiffany's stomach as she dug her heels in and curled her fists, her voice low and uncompromising.
"I'm taking you nowhere you insidious old fucker!"
The fuse lit, Mrs Appleby could take no more, suddenly raising her knife and charging at Tiffany, an explosion of lightning rippling across the sky as a voice exploded from behind. The playful tone, in stark contrast to the ensuing situation, chimed through the kitchen and caused the perfect distraction, Mrs Appleby turning in mid-stride and allowing her eyes to fall on the broken, twisted, Good Guy laying upon the work surface, Tommy's voice box now working perfectly.
"Hi..." It began. "I'm Tommy... Wanna plaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyy?"
Taking advantage of the opportunity granted to her, Tiffany reached for the kettle, still sat atop the gas hob, the flame beneath burning an electric blue as the water inside the steel utensil bubbled and spat. Grabbing the kettle by its handle, Tiffany heaved, lifting it from the hob and swinging it, in one fluid motion, across the front of her body, the impact on Mrs Appleby's face almost knocking the old girl from her feet as she wobbled to the right, the raised knife missing Tiffany by inches as it made contact with the marble worktop by her side. The house cast in a perpetual darkness, Tiffany quickly spun and landed another blow, the piping hot water inside the kettle overflowing this time as it impacted upon the side of Mrs Appleby's face, the screams almost deafening as the water began to burn and scold the old hag's face. As Mrs Appleby dropped to her knees, one hand raised to her face, the other still clenching the butcher knife, Tiffany felt a surge of adrenaline, turning to the hob and blowing out the flame, the heat dying in an instant as the gas continued to be fed through the burner. Watching the old woman scuttling across the floor in agony, Tiffany realised this was her chance, the best chance she would have, to put some ground between the two of them, turning and sprinting to the kitchen door, into the hallway as the agonising screams continued to explode behind her. Reaching the front doorway and grabbing the bag she had left there just moments before, Tiffany grabbed the heavy wooden door and yanked, dread filling her as the door refused to move. Noticing the key had been taken, the door locked, Tiffany suddenly heard the screaming from the kitchen come to an abrupt end, a deathly silence filling the house as she felt every hair on her body stand in unison. She could see the parlour door sitting half open, the flickering light from the burning fire within dancing along the walls and out into the hallway as a voice suddenly screamed in a thunderous rage.
"YOU LISTEN HERE YOU FUCKING SLUT!" Mrs Appleby bellowed. "YOU'RE GOING NOWHERE! DO YOU HEAR ME?"
Refusing to answer, the lightning dancing across the skies outside offering the only real light for her to work with, Tiffany headed back to the stairs, almost there as she felt the weight of Mrs Appleby charge into her from the side. She didn't know how she could miss her, but she had, the wind knocked from her lungs as the two of them fell to the floor in a heap, Mrs Appleby now sat atop her chest, knife raised and a delirious look of insanity etched across her face. As she brought the knife down, the blade cutting through the air, Tiffany yanked her body to the side and felt the knife strike the carpet by her head. Then, swinging an arm and aiming anywhere and everywhere, Tiffany attempted to strike the old girl and hopefully knock her off balance once more, failing as Mrs Appleby dodged the flurry of punches and responded with a sickening punch of her own. Catching Tiffany right in the side of the temple, Mrs Appleby seemed to have a hidden strength, the hallway beginning to grow foggy as Tiffany started to black out, the old woman raising the knife once more and aiming straight for the throat. Fighting the oncoming concussion, Tiffany made one last attempt, realising her biggest advantage was probably her weight, rolling to the side and knocking Mrs Appleby off balance as the knife came down again, the old woman following it as she fell face first into the spot where Tiffany had lay just a split second before. As Tiffany stood hazily to her feet, she noticed Mrs Appleby rise too, running a forearm across her lip before spitting a mouthful of blood and turning to Tiffany. Face twisting in anger once more, she began to charge at Tiffany again, the blade of the knife slicing through thin air as Tiffany valiantly dodged the blur of attacks, one or two landing successfully and cutting through the sleeves of the leather jacket and drawing blood. Ignoring the pain, survival instinct kicking in, Tiffany reached forward without thinking and grabbed Mrs Appleby by the throat, holding her at arms length.
"I'LL KILL YOU!" She screamed, the vitriol pouring from the old woman's mouth. Then without a second thought, Tiffany simply turned and flung Mrs Appleby up against the wall, a rumble of thunder overhead as the side of Mrs Appleby's face made a sickening contact with the hallway wall. Her body falling limp, her voice taking on a slurred and drunken tone, Tiffany repeated the manoeuvre, again and again, aggression growing each time as she repeatedly slammed the old woman's face into the wall, the plaster beginning to crack as Tiffany let out a scream of her own and upped the tempo, the knife falling free from Mrs Appleby's hands as her face became saturated in blood, by now resembling nothing more than a bloody pulp as her breathing became shallow, her grunts and snorts sounding all the more desperate as her body struggled to carry on, lungs now filling with blood as Tiffany continued to batter her, the haze clearing as she relinquished her grip and let the body fall to the floor with a 'thud'. Taking a step back, Tiffany looked on in horror, a revulsion taking over as she fought the urge to vomit, Mrs Appleby now laying in the hallway of her grand house, practically seconds from death. Despite what had occurred this evening, Tiffany felt no desire to deal that final blow. It was in this particular moment that Tiffany's head cleared and she took a look around, putting two and two together as she noticed the flames of the fireplace still dancing manically in the parlour and remembered the gas burner in the kitchen, still spewing the flammable mixture into the house. A malevolent smile forming on her lips, Tiffany dropped to her knees beside Mrs Appleby. Fishing her hand into the old girl's apron pocket, she quickly retrieved the key to the front door before standing and galloping across the hall and grabbing her bag. Quickly, and with good reason, she slid the key into the lock and twisted, the chamber opening with a 'click' as Tiffany emerged into the storm erupting over Mount Carroll. Taking a last look back into the hallway, she could see Mrs Appleby starting to move, the old woman still, even now, putting up a fight as she coughed up a lung full of blood and turned to Tiffany. Beginning to crawl, her words illegible, she spat venom of every kind, her fingernails digging into the thick hallway carpet as she continued to curse and expend every drop of energy. Giving nothing, other than a sly smile, Tiffany simply closed the front door behind her and decided to let karma run its course, the door slamming in the frame as she began to descend the steep, stone steps of the house for the very last time, reaching the barn in seconds and throwing open the huge doors, the gleaming, red body of the Plymouth Fury waiting silently within. Opening the door and slipping behind the wheel, Tiffany threw her bag onto the passenger seat and began to feel the pockets of her leather jacket, pulling a piece of paper free and unfolding it carefully, the name and address of one Selena Thomas still carefully preserved. Sitting in a moment of solitude and casting her mind back, she remembered Selena Thomas's words over a year ago, as the bus travelled along the interstate and towards Tiffany's 'new life'.
"You need money? A job?" She had asked.
Right now Tiffany figured she could use both. As she turned the key in the ignition and the engine roared into life, she applied the throttle and gently eased the car down the side of Appleby's Store. Reaching the road, she stopped short of pulling out, the rain hammering into the windscreen as she threw open the car door and stood from the vehicle, the wind lashing at her, the rain stinging as it hit her face. Taking in the view of the house overlooking the small town below, Tiffany could imagine what was happening up there right now. The old woman, still scrambling to the door, her carefully executed plans laying in pieces as she tried her hardest to salvage whatever she could from the predicament now facing her, blissfully unaware of the gas filling the kitchen and working its way throughout the house, more importantly towards the parlour, and the naked flames of the roaring log fire. Just as Tiffany found herself lost in thought, she noticed something. Up on the hill. The house. The front door opening slowly as the feeble and weakened figure of Mrs Appleby grabbed the door handle and tried bravely to pull herself to her feet, succeeding eventually as she cast her eyes over the scene down below, raising an arm and screaming in Tiffany's direction. But it was too late. Tiffany could feel the heat from the explosion as the house crumbled around Mrs Appleby, the natural gas igniting and sending a shockwave through the ground floor. Walls were ripped apart in milliseconds as the force of the blast literally blew the structural support from the house, the upper floor instantly crashing down as the fireball erupted into the darkness of the evening. Although flinching slightly, shielding her eyes from the blast, Tiffany could just make out the figure of Mrs Appleby as the flames engulfed her tiny, skinny frame, the little old woman evaporated by the extreme heats now roaring around her. As glass began to shower around her, Tiffany returned to the safety of the Plymouths interior, slipping the car into gear and pulling out onto the road, heading towards the interstate.
Tiffany correctly guessing that, by now, she didn't just need a job and some money.
After all this, the inevitable police investigation, she would probably need a new identity altogether...