"May the forces of evil become confused on the way to your house."
~ George Carlin
~~~~~~~~
Rita Jennings was just minding her business when someone came knocking on her door.
She had been eating her dinner, flipping through some soaps being telecasted on the TV before taking out a DVD from her old collection handed over to her by her mother dearest. She settled down comfortably on the couch, watching her favourite childhood Bollywood movie for about the hundredth time. Having lived in the United States for the better part of her life, it was these movies and pictures that helped her connect to her own culture.
However, the movie failed to capture her attention. The food felt tasteless too, more like chewing cardboard than actual rice and curry. She wasn't sure why but she had been feeling very restless and anxious these past few days. She would find herself going over to her daughter's room and falling asleep right over there and would only wake up when Timmy would come whining for some food.
Some days, she would go out and sit on the swing set, feeling terribly alone, a worry that she couldn't place, eating her up. Her mind constantly wandered over to Blue. Her sweet little Blue. She knew she shouldn't be worried. Blue had just gone over to stay with her friends for a week, right? So, what was there to worry about? She had done that before.
But her motherly instincts wouldn't give her a moment's peace.
Timmy seemed to be reciprocating her feelings too. Every single day, he would go and paw at the door, waiting for Blue, assuming she must have gone to school. And, every single day, when she wouldn't return, he would go and settle down sadly at the foot of her bed, his tail between his legs.
The house was strangely desolate and lonely.
That is, until, the knock came on her door. Switching off the TV and washing her hand, Rita dragged her feet towards the door, stifling a yawn. It was very late. Almost midnight. She should've been asleep but her sleep was becoming sporadic. Besides, who would be coming over now?
Rita would be beyond pissed if it was Mrs Nosey again. Their neighbour had an annoying habit of arriving at their doorstep at ungodly hours, asking about the most trivial of things. It made Rita want to shift to a different neighbourhood, altogether.
Of course, never in a million years was Rita expecting to see what she did when she swung open the door.
For a second, the figure standing at the door's threshold was bathed in darkness but, then, the clouds briefly parted to reveal the moon. Its silvery beam rained down on them and the figure came to light.
Rita gasped, stumbling backwards, her eyes wide as saucers. She lost her balance and stumbled on the floor as the shadow loomed over her. Shock and disbelief coloured her face as she looked up at him. It couldn't be, could it? N-No! It was impossible!
"M-Markus?" Rita stuttered, barely being able to articulate any coherent words.
Evil tilted his head, smiling ominously, "Hello, my lovely wife."
~~~~~~~
"Markus?" Rita asked again, unable to form another word. Her voice was shaking as she slowly stood up, not trusting her wobbly, unsteady legs to support her weight. "I-Is it really you?"
"In flesh and blood," Evil said, flourishing his hands, seeming to enjoy this situation immensely.
Rita hungrily drank in his form, the shock making it hard to think properly. He looked exactly the same like he had three years ago. Jet black hair swept back cleanly, still tall and lanky with broad shoulders. He had, however, grown a goatee now over his previously cleanly shaved jaw. But something didn't seem right...
It took her a second but she noticed it. His eyes were a glittering pair of onyx beads, not the clear green it used to be. His gaze, which had always reflected constant support and love when they fell on her, were now only frightening her.
"Y-You're supposed to be dead," Rita finally said after a long stretch of silence. "Who are you?"
Evil smirked. "How clever," he mocked. Rita recoiled at the hard, sardonic tone of his voice. Her husband had never used such a voice with her. It only confirmed her suspicions that he was some sort of—what? There was no rational explanation for this. An imposter, she decided frantically. A fraud. A doppelganger! Something else entirely. But definitely not Markus.
Rita slowly backed away as Evil took a threatening step towards her. But, right then, angry barks tore through the air. Evil could only gasp as a furry creature launched itself on him, teeth bared and claws out.
"Timmy!" Rita gasped, both worried and grateful for their dog. The ironic part was that it was Markus who had insisted they buy one to begin with.
No, she couldn't go there, she couldn't think about Markus. Whoever this person was, it wasn't her husband. She needed to call the police. Rita turned around and rushed towards the kitchen, almost tripping on her haste.
But before her hands could close around her phone, Timmy let out a loud whine. Rita stilled as there was a loud thump from the doorway and suddenly there were footsteps beating down on the floorboards, disconcertingly familiar to hear.
Rita hurriedly dialed the number but before it could start ringing, the phone was snatched from her hands. She cried out as Evil threw it on the floor, shattering it into pieces.
"Who are you?" Rita cried again. Evil was barely paying any attention to her; his eyes were focused on the window, as if awaiting somebody's arrival.
Rita took that opportunity to slyly move her hand towards the knife that lay on the kitchen counter. Her hand closed around its hilt and the next thing she knew she was flinging it towards the imposter man, not stopping to consider her horrifying actions.
But Evil was one step ahead. He casually stepped out of her path, grasping her wrist firmly, his nails digging into her skin. "Really?" he asked. "This is all you have?"
Rita yelled in pain as he twisted her hand, none too gently, and the knife easily dropped from her grip.
Out of nowhere, a familiar voice shouted, "Leave her be!"
Evil barely had any time to turn around before Blue was upon him. Rita gasped as her daughter–her beautiful, innocent daughter–leaped on Evil.
Evil only laughed at her actions. He shot out his arm and Blue went flying backwards, crashing onto the kitchen cabinets, shattering the glass utensils.
"NO!" Rita cried. "Not my daughter!"
With a vengeance she didn't even know she could feel, Rita once again grabbed the dropped knife and stabbed Evil right in the thigh before he could even realise what had happened. He screamed in pain, as blood wetted his trousers, pooling around in a dark puddle.
Snarling, Evil clutched Rita's hair. Rita wasn't sure what he was about to do to her when the unfamiliar voice of a kid interrupted, "Stop this, Evil!"
Evil? Rita wondered distantly.
It was a boy, perhaps a few older than Blue, with brown curls and furious hazel eyes. He shot out both his hands and a wave of something hit Rita, making her fly away from Markus-who-really-wasn't-Markus.
Rita didn't have enough time to properly marvel at the use of magic as the man and the boy circled each other, gauging their moves and attacking accordingly. She crawled over to Blue who was whimpering in pain, buried under a pile of pans and spoons.
"Blue!" Rita cried, fondling her daughter's head and hurriedly pushing away the utensils. A dark rivulet of blood was flowing from a cut on her forehead.
"Ma," Blue exclaimed in relief. "You're okay. We made it in time."
"I-I--" Rita didn't know what to say, so she simply shook her head, wincing when there was a crash and the sound of something shattering. "Who is that man, Blue?"
Blue swallowed and Rita was surprised to find a strange sort of determination take hold of her daughter. "Don't worry, Ma," Blue assured, clutching her hands. "I won't let anything happen to you. Miracle will save us."
Rita didn't know what to say to that. She could only blink at Blue in surprise. Since when has her daughter grown up so much that she would start assuring her own mother? But now that Rita looked at her, it was undeniable.
Physically, she might have looked the same. But her eyes...her eyes showed how much she had grown within these few days. There was courage behind those black orbs, a strong willpower. Rita looked at Blue in awe, patting her cheek almost reverently.
Where had Blue gone off to all this time?
Rita was about to voice aloud that question when suddenly the boy who had come to their rescue cried out in pain. Blue jumped to her feet, crying out too, as Miracle's head thumped painfully on the kitchen counter. Evil stood atop him, breathing hard, as Miracle crumpled in the linoleum floor.
He did not get up.