[Previously FEATURED] Retail workers have the least chance of being haunted, hurt, or killed. At least, that's what three cashiers assume. When Temple, Marilyn, and Martine meet little Sienna, they find out how wrong they are about job security.
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Ten years together should've been cause for celebration.
However, Marilyn Humslen wasn't celebrating much.
She stared out the window of her lavish home, discounting the names being tossed at her. Words like "whore", "dirty", and "shameful" dissolved in her ears, as she had heard them all before.
Tonight was different.
Tonight her husband Tom promised they would have a good time.
He had planned dinner in the city, a well-reviewed play, and gentle lovemaking. None of his plans had come through as of yet. The red numbers on the clock glared 7:30, which meant they were running late.
Outside, a senator hosted a growing crowd of supporters. He described UnDesirable behavior, and why it led to society's disintegration. He also revealed that such behavior could be quelled through church Amnesty. The crowd swooned in agreement.
Marilyn longed for something more interesting to watch, anything to take her mind away from reality, but Tom wasn't letting things go. Not this time.
He thrust a picture in her face, and the likeness drew her attention. Dark hair, mocha skin, and full lips. Very different from her husband's light, angular features. His face looked harsh in comparison with her favorite picture, yet, he had never appeared as harsh as he did right now.
"I thought this shit was over." Tom waved the picture in the air.
The shit he referred to had been over, for years. Ten years had passed since she had seen or spoken to the woman in the picture. Instead of point out the obvious, she allowed him a rant. Sometimes, if he got everything out he wanted to say, without interruption, nothing bad happened after.
"Do you want to embarrass me, end my career, because you're sick?" he demanded.
Marilyn shook her head.
A cold draft swept over her arms, which was odd because Tom kept a strict watch on the temperature. Lately, bouts of cold crept into the loft, lingering most when he was angry at her for one reason or another.
"I could have her put her on a list, lock her away. Maybe then you'd know how serious this is." He grabbed her chin, the smell of spice rum overpowering her senses.
Last time he caught her had been a year ago. She sent an e-note, and when it bounced back as undeliverable, she checked the interface connection and tried a second time. Instead of the lovely reply she had hoped for, a note from Tom flashed onscreen:
I see you.
He monitored her communications, and Marilyn should've expected as much from a politician. After that day, she remembered to be careful. The bruises he left helped keep her memory fresh for weeks.
Tom shoved her away, but the indentation of his touch remained. Then he seemed to change his mind, crossing the room to slap her. Silver stars exploded behind her eyes, and when she opened her eyes, she saw nothing.
Nothing, and It.
"Nothing will save you this time. Not even that sweet ass of yours. I'm calling the Staties to pick up your little cunt friend."
The Shadow slithered along the wall, a shifting, ethereal mass.
She had forgotten how terrifying it was to see her face reflected in the gloom.
Marilyn.
It whispered her name, low at first, then louder.
Everything was at an end; if the little girl's death had shown her anything, it was that. The thought saddened her, until anger set in. Her life had been empty, swallowed up by one asshole after another. She balled up her hate, and her fist, and smashed both into Tom's unsuspecting face. In his surprise, he dropped the picture.
"Her name is Martine!" She snatched up the picture and fled.
Time to go.
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A/N: Run, girl, run!
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Later on, trade in The Dark for lighter fare, like Chasing Rainbows by AliciaGrozavu. Courtney is troubled by a dark past, but still hoping to find love. Soon, she has to choose between two boys:
