Page 120 - The Houseguest

circumstances before I spoke sarcastically: ‘Good morning, Rachel. How did you sleep?”
With that, I reached across and removed the tape from around her mouth, quickly, to increase the sting. She gasped aloud, I assumed from a combination of the pain and lack of breathing freely for the past 12 hours. I paused to give her an opportunity to answer, but she did not speak. I repeated my question: “How did you sleep?” Again, no response. I reached back and smacked her hard across the face with the backside of my hand. She yelped and I asked once more: “How did you sleep, Rachel?”
She licked her bottom lip where I’d struck her and responded indignantly: “I know who you are.” Surprised but not shocked, I knew she had recognized the people in the photos surrounding her as the ones she’d murdered. She continued: “Are you going to rape me?” I began to laugh aloud at the notion: “Rape, YOU?” The thought literally sickened me. “No, Ms. Spence, I have no intentions of raping you.” “Then what do you want with me?” she asked. I answered simply: “In time Rachel Spence...in time.”
I went into the kitchen and prepared a meal for her, sans the saliva. The soup was heated beyond normal temperature and placed this time on a bed table I’d purchased, much like they use in hospitals. While wheeling it over to her it got hung up accidentally on purpose, on a middle support at the bottom of the bed. The scalding soup bowl kept its forward momentum however, and proceeded to topple over onto her lap area. She cried out in pain as I smiled: “Oh, no. Let me get
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The Houseguest by Linda Ellis www.LindaEllis.life