Jumpy, her body ached.
What was that old saying about a frog in boiling water?
She shrugged her shoulders luxuriously and made her way to a polished mahogany vanity halfway across the room. An oversized oval mirror hung precisely at eye level from a seated position, so she pulled out the matching bench and settled herself. Digging through her purse for a collapsible brush, she turned it over in her hands, fingers rubbing the bristles; any sensation felt good.
Starla should feel terrible about what she had done, about the role she had played in ending Tommy’s life. But the simple fact was that she felt fine. Hell, better than fine.
Why it had taken so long?
She giggled and pursed her lips in the mirror with its rich oak frame. “Mirror, mirror on the wall…”
That wasn’t really her in the mirror. Was it? Haggard, worn, terrified. And in a flash, a figure came into focus beside her. Those eyes had expressed affection and devotion for so many years…and betrayal in those final, tumultuous moments.
“Tommy.” The name formed on her lips, and her eyes dropped to the jagged, seeping wound at his side.
In spite of herself, she screamed.
A toilet flushed, and Frank emerged.
“Baby, what’s wrong?” He panted, overexerting himself. “Are you crazy? We can’t cause a commotion. We’re not outta the woods yet.”
She blinked and saw her reflection, deer in headlights, and stood to return Frank’s vice grip.
Without words, she allowed Frank to pull her to the bed.
D.C. Phillips is the author of Frightful Fables, the tales that will leave you screaming for more! He has received praise for his dynamic and darkly ironic style, which readers describe as “Flannery O’Connor meets Tales From the Crypt.” As a native of Atlanta, Georgia, he cites Southern culture and classic horror as two major influences.
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