“As her mount shifted uneasily under her, she grasped the brim of her old felt Stetson, gazed upwards and remembered Jean Pierre.”
The musty old cologne he layered on every morning just before giving her breakfast. The snide words and hateful banter as she chowed the almost pre-digested slurry he cooked up in the guise of charity.
Right after this daily ritual, the radios came on. All 6 of them. Tuned to all the police channels and one specially for the local crime station. No tv though, he always said it disturbed his chi. The rest of her days with him passed staring at the steel silhouette of the Iron Lady of Paris and the millions of night lights, knowing her home was one of them.
As they said our good nights, she would hear the rattle of the door chains and the frustrated clicks on all the windows. Jean never slept with the windows open. Every click, every night one more away from her family. So close yet so far.
The morning of 4th September, 2061 started with a single click. Teargas flooded the apartment and safety came in the guise of chaos.
6months in the grasp of her kidnapper, an obsessed and closet sociopath.
This was as he said in defense. It was his way of keeping her safe, the next day was supposed to be her day and she would have been saved from this dirty world.
One more day was all remained in his perfect plan to keep Marie safe forever in the afterlife.
Inspired by Mondays Finish the Story – Sept. 7th, 2015