Page 131 - The Houseguest

she looked up at me with the eyes of a sad puppy. I felt a twinge of empathy, so I looked away immediately. I repeated to myself, “This bitch deserves this and more for the pain she’s caused you.”
I left her with food and water, etc. I also unlocked one of her hands so that she could turn the pages, but not before I turned on the hidden baby monitor camera we’d used for little Katie. Rachel required no monitoring when she was fully chained, but I was allowing her one free limb, now. I would randomly check on her from my cell phone. Checking in intermittently, I could see she had no intentions of reading the book. She stroked her fingers through her hair as if grooming herself. Then I observed an odd occurrence as she began to sing aloud the words to a familiar tune: “You are my sunshine. My only sunshine. You make me happy, when skies are gray...” Was I witnessing insanity unfolding before my eyes? Was this a ploy to distract me? My obsessive-compulsive disorder was in overdrive as I burst into her room, interrupted her lyrics and shouted: “Stop it! Just stop singing!” With that, she began to sing louder and stronger: “Please don’t take my sunshine away...” She must’ve been telling the truth that she wanted to die because she was pushing every one of my buttons. I pulled the gun from my back pocket, straddled her on the bed and pressed the barrel into her temple: “Stop it! Stop singing now!” Her eyes bore into mine as she continued: “You are my sunshine. My only sunshine...”
I pulled back the trigger as if I were going to fire. Again, a feeling of power ran through me and I wondered what it must feel like to hold a loaded pistol. Yet, my captive remained resolute, never yielding to the fear I was certain was rising up inside of her. “Shoot me! Do it!” she
131
The Houseguest by Linda Ellis www.LindaEllis.life