This story is a continuation of the Fiction Relay organised by May More.
The previous chapter can be found here: Chapter 14
Short summary so far:
Susie died in 1995 aged twelve. Fast forward 11 years and we finally find out who the killer and his apparent accomplice was. Many people have been hurt along the way. Steve – her secret brother – has also been killed in what appears to be a dreadful mix up. The story continues…
Content Warning: The following story contains mentions of blood, gore and violence
Fiction Relay Part 15 – Sonia’s Demise
Ken Blake murdered my daughter. My lovely, bubbly Susie. I miss her so. I may have hated her at times, despised her for who and what she was, but she was still my daughter. My flesh and blood. No one had the right to take that away from me. And that creep Ken least of all.
Sonia had heard the stories. She knew people were talking about how he would stroll through town, ogling the young girls. Other stories made their rounds too, full of filthy details she didn’t want to consider. No one had the right to touch her girl. If only she had been on that plane to Stockholm. Her plan would have worked. Her little girl would still have been alive today.
But she wasn’t. Sonia had failed as a mother. Twice. Not only had she failed her daughter, but she had given up on her son. It pained her heart every time she saw him. Such a beautiful young man, enjoying life. Life she had given him, but she hadn’t given him the love and guidance he deserved. She had failed him.
What was she to do now? Where was she to go? She was too restless and stricken with grief to stay at home.
The only place she could go with a link to Susie was Ken’s apartment. The man had been a reporter. Surely he had made archives, logs of everything he had done. The place called her. She had to go there if it was the last thing she did.
Finding his address was easy. Being a reporter, he wanted to be found, always eager for new leads and stories. Sonia took the telephone book and looked up his address. She had to know.
Sonia parked her car in front of the small house. Torn away tape showed her she was at the right place. But why was the door open?
Sonia shook her head, but the fogginess of her grief wouldn’t go away. This was where her daughter’s murderer had lived, where he had walked, where he had tended the garden. It wasn’t fair he had lived for so long after snuffing out her daughter’s life.
Sonia took a deep breath and pushed aside the remnants of the police tape. Through the window, she noticed a shadow inside, rummaging about, opening drawers. Someone was here!
Sonia advanced into the living room. Carla stared at her like a deer caught in the headlights.
“What are you doing here?” Sonia asked the other woman coldly. She knew Carla had been friends with both her daughter and Ellie, but that was all she knew about her. And it certainly didn’t explain what she was doing going through the murderer’s belongings post-mortem.
“I…” Carla dropped the shoebox she had been holding, revealing the pink fabric of what seemed to be girl’s underwear. She straightened her coat as she scraped her throat. “Nothing. Ken was my friend and I…”
“Your friend?” Sonia asked menacingly. “How could you be friends with him? You knew what he was like.”
Carla shook her head and touched her face. “I didn’t, really. He was older than we were. You know, kind of the attractive bad boy?” She let out a nervous giggle.
Sonia shook her head and approached the other woman slowly. “Oh no, that’s not why you’re here. There’s more. There’s got to be. What do you know about my daughter?”
Carla took a step back.
“We were friends, Susie and I, that’s all.”
“She never talked about you.”
Carla’s face tightened. “Ellie, Susie and I were friends. Ask anyone. We were Charlie’s Angels. And you can’t have just two angels, now can you?”
“Ellie and Susie were friends.” Sonia tried to pull the shoebox closer, but the intruder shut the lid tighter and shoved it away from her grasp.
“How well did you know your girl really?” Her eyes narrowed. “Your daughter. Susie the Saint.”
Through the mist in Sonia’s head, the woman in front of her started to glow red, pulsing red in waves.
“You have no right,” Sonia hissed.
Her enemy huffed. “That witch daughter of yours had no right. Seducing my man with her shenanigans.” Carla’s hand went into her coat’s pocket. “I loved watching the life being squeezed out of her.”
Before Carla could come at her with whatever she had in her pocket, Sonia grabbed the scissors from the table and plunged them deep into her opponent.
“Go to hell! Join your man and go to hell! You have no right!”
Carla grabbed her chest in surprise.
“No, I…” Carla stammered while her shirt stained red from the wound.
“You murdered my girl. You have no right.” No right to live, no right to be here, no right to exist. Only this was right, the only right thing to do.
“No…Ken…” Carla uttered before closing her eyes and collapsing. In her fall, she dragged the shoebox with her. All contents spilt over her and the floor.
Sonia dropped the scissors and took a step back. What had she done!
She stood entranced by the red pool that formed next to the other woman. Blood she had caused. Carla’s blood for Susie’s blood. The strewn about girl’s panties soaked up the lifeblood as if they were makeshift bandages.
She had to leave. She didn’t know where to go, but she couldn’t stand to be here another second. Not in the killer’s house together with her daughter’s murderer.
Sonia left the house but halted at the letterbox outside. That wasn’t a picture of her son on the front page, was it? She pulled out the newspaper.
A deep wail erupted from within her as she collapsed to her knees.
Not Steve too. Her son, her only legacy, her only pride.
“Are you all right, miss?” someone asked.
Sonia blinked slowly and got up. “Yes, yes.”
No one’s business. It was done. She had made her decision.
The fog had thickened. She was enveloped in a black shroud.
Her feet walked and walked and walked until she stood at the cliff’s edge.
They had picnicked here so often. Warning Susie not to get too close to the edge, but she would always go one step closer than what she was allowed. Always seeking the thrill.
Steve had been her last hope. Her final answer. Now there was only one answer left. She had to return to her children. Maybe she could guide them better in heaven than here on earth. She had fucked it up here. She took the final step.
I’m sorry, Billy, I love you.
The next and final instalment will be written by May.
wow – you got to grips there Liz – great episode in all its gory detail
Thanks, May. It’s not my usual genre or style, but it was great fun diving in deep and you know, commit murder and all that ?
By the way, the scissors on the pic are truly ours and look perfectly suitable for the job ??
Wow, well done! A wonderful piece of writing. Enough darkness to keep you reading, enough mystery for the next chapter 🙂
We’re not there yet…
I love the scissors! I also love your chapter. Poor Sonia. That nasty piece of work Carla, I wonder what she was really there for…
The scissors are very special, when they were bought they said they would cut through anything…
Including viscious grieving Carlas
Liz you’ve done an epic job here, I think Sonia’s motivation and foggy coherence were on point. Knowing Carla ( from the chapter I wrote) she was there to try to better understand why she was never enough for Ken and to ensure there was nothing which incriminated her at his flat. I hope the police can still get evidence from Ken’s shoe box of trophies. Scissors seem a very female choice of murder weapon Liz – well done.
We indeed figured Carla would want to see what incriminating evidence would be left in Kens apartment.
Scissors indeed made the most sense to me, seeing how she acted on impulse. I’ve seen enough episodes of Midsommer Murders to come up with that idea ?
The death count rises! Those scissors are perfect for this story, nice addition, Liz.
I figured they’d look better than my standard cheap Ikea scissors ?
You managed to keep all the suspense in the story and not reveal anything. Poor Sonia, with her grief, and those scissors. Great writing!
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