Beasthood

~Chapter 13- Taunt~ Part 1

~Chapter 13 -Taunt~

Two days later...

Thursday May 12th, 11:42 a.m.

Kormak residence

Eliza and Thorpe Kormak were not expecting any visitors or parcels that day. So when the doorbell rang, they were instinctively alert.

They had been that way ever since they'd left -some would say 'fled'- the community over twenty years ago.

39-year-old Eliza was cutting the vegetables for her homemade beef casserole; her big, brown eyes were completely focused as she sliced the carrots with perfect precision at a finger-chopping-off speed.

Her husband Thorpe was sitting in his usual black, leather armchair, checking his emails on the laptop balanced on his thighs. He had one foot resting on the coffee table, though he knew how much his wife hated him doing that. Most of the time he did it because he loved winding her up.

Eliza brushed a dark-brown curl away from her ivory cheek with the back of her hand, then turned to her husband. She saw his sock-covered foot tapping the air cheekily as it rested on the pristine black glass. She was about to order him to remove it when the sound of the doorbell cut through the silence. The words got stuck in her throat and she stared wide-eyed at her husband.

He swung round violently to look at her, nearly dropping his laptop on the floor. He placed it down soundlessly on the coffee table, stood up carefully so there was no squeaking of leather. He was successful and just as silently, he crept across the wooden floorboards -avoiding the creaky ones he knew all too well- and stopped right in front of his startled wife.

He gently grabbed her hand that was still holding the knife; her knuckles were white from gripping the handle so hard. He took the knife from her slowly, placing it gently on the chopping board. He then put his hand in hers.

She gave him a questioning look that he knew only meant one thing: 'Who is it?'

He squeezed her hand comfortingly and inhaled deeply through his nose. His strong sense of smell was overwhelmed by the aroma of onions, carrots, parsnips and potatoes. He could smell the beef inside the fridge, the milk that he pegged would go off tomorrow if they didn't finish it. He'd remind her later if she didn't know already.

He then caught the scents farther away from the kitchen. The scented candles of strawberry and vanilla; the recently oiled hinges of the lounge door; the hallway air-freshener plug in the socket by the shoe rack; his muddy boots and the newspaper he'd placed them on right by the door after gardening that morning.

And then his senses reached through the door; he swirled the scent of the unknown visitor deep in his nose, sampling it like a fine wine: leather, dusty boots, jeans that were recently stained with mayonnaise, the faint aroma of fresh and old sweat from the hot weather, mixed in with a masculine perfume; a cologne he recognized. He also smelt hair gel. The scents took him back twenty years and he knew who it was.

Bastard still hasn't changed that foul, cheap cologne. Bet he still spikes up his hair like a bloody hedgehog. He chuckled quietly, his eyes glinting with bitterness as well as genuine humour.

He glared at the pastel-yellow wall he'd been gazing at the whole time; the silver wall clock was to the left of the spot he focused on, ticking away loudly, mercilessly counting down the seconds until he had to open the door. He gritted his teeth.