Helen Goes for Mr. Sunday

The Evening That Changed Everything: Part 5

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"How I am looking?" said Helen, wearing the wing straps over her shoulders, addressing Karishma's dead body.

Londhe, a bald and muscular middle-aged woman, stepped inside, clapping dust off her hands.

"Didi! Please tell me!"

"Holy fuck!" exclaimed Londhe, starting at the scene.

"What do you want?" said Helen, adjusting her dress, trying to pull it down to cover her thighs, but the short tutu only covered the upper half of her thighs.

Londhe looked her up and down for a moment, walked up to the mosquito net, and unzipped it. Then realizing that it only created a small opening, she grabbed the two ends of the opening and pulled them apart. The net tore with a ripping sound, each of its sides flopping to the floor.

"You fucking bitch!" cried Helen.

Pinching her nose with her left hand, Londhe bent over and thrust her right hand toward Karishma's dead body.

"Don't you dare touch her!"

Londhe nonchalantly grabbed both of Karishma's legs with her right hand, gripped her waist with her left hand, and lifted her upside down, holding her out like a statue, at a distance from her own body.

"You fucking bitch!" howled Helen at the top of her voice, lunging forward to attack her, but Londhe's right elbow dug into her stomach first.

Helen shrieked in pain, holding her stomach. The belt of her fairy dress had torn off, making the dress distend around the waist.

"I'm leaving-are you going with me?" said Londhe, turning around, and stepping over the fallen door.

"Hold her properly!"

"Shut up!"

"You are hurting her!"

"This is just a dead body. It can't feel anything," said Londhe, carrying Karishma out of the room.

"That's the dead me that you are carrying!" screamed Helen, summoning all her strength. "She is my dead body!"

Londhe walked up to the open trunk of the car, dropped the dead body in it with a loud thump, and closed the trunk. There was a sound of one of the vehicle's doors opening and then closing.

Her eyes darting across the room, Helen surveyed the room one more time, spit building up in the corners of her mouth. "You'll pay for this," she mumbled, jaws clenched.

The car's engine roared to life. Helen's eyes fell on a shiny object on the kitchenette counter. It was a knife. She bolted toward it. A melody played from the car, indicating that it was reversing. She lifted her tutu and slipped the blade of the knife inside her panty.

The music stopped, and there was a sound of the car lurching forward, crushing plastic waste that cluttered the area outside the servant quarters. Helen hurriedly grabbed the backpack in one hand and her purse in another, and ran out of the room and toward the car.

The car did not stop.

"Wait!" shouted Helen.

The car accelerated.

Helen tore along the road after the car. Her silver wings flapped uncontrollably in the wind, on the verge of coming off the straps.

The car continued moving forward steadily.