Renting Ginny

Anina was pronounced dead at the scene. By now it was dark, and Barbara and I were both a bit shook up, though grateful to have each other to lean on for support. We were mostly relieved, however. My parents were frantic with worry, but I assured them that there was no longer anything to worry about. What was a bit odd was that the police couldn’t seem to identify the mysterious “Anina.” She had no fingerprints on file in the U.S. or in any other country, which I thought was kind of strange. I really expected her to have some kind of criminal record. What person waited until their forties to suddenly start kidnapping people and then breaking into people’s houses to possibly kill them, or at least those that might be in the way of what they wanted? While I was truly relieved that Anina was dead so that my own life, as well as the lives of those close to me, would no longer be in danger, I also felt guilty. Not that she was dead, but because of the trouble she had put Barbara through. Barbara now had three broken windows to deal with, but she assured me that her insurance would fix and cover the damage. After we’d given our statements to the police and Anina was taken away in a black body bag, my parents had insisted that I come home. As much as I wanted to stay and help Barbara clean up, Barbara understood my parents’ need to have me close by at such a time and I appreciated her understanding and concern. “Don’t worry about the clean-up,” she told me in her prominent German accent in which I was rapidly coming to like. “Everything will be fine. Right now, you’re what’s most important? Alles ist gut hier. Go home and rest, okay?” I nodded and smiled lovingly at the tall beauty. Then I stood on my toes, gave her a quick peck on the cheek and walked away with my parents. “Thank you so much for looking out for her,” my father told her for the millionth time as we headed away that day. In the car, my parents asked one question after another about how things had gone before the tragedy occurred, not that I really considered the death of a dangerous woman all that tragic. Being terrorized by one was what had been tragic. “Things went well.” “Did she teach you more German?” Mom asked. “Yes, a little.” “So, what do you think? Are we on our way to having our first bilingual person in the family?” Dad asked. “I don’t know about that. German’s pretty ugly. It is fun to learn, though, and Barbara seems to think I have a real gift for learning languages.” “Maybe you do. You seem to be picking up fast from the sound of it,” my Mom said. “She said it usually takes two to three years to become fluent,” I said. “How do you say good evening?” Mom asked me. “Guten Abend.” “Hee, hee!” Mom said excitedly. “This could be fun.” “Not when you get to the complex grammar, it won’t be.” We pulled into the driveway, almost surprised to find no reporters waiting for us, and entered the house a moment later. “Hurry up, ladies,” Dad said. “You never know what nosy reporters may still show up in hopes of twisting our words in the name of entertainment.” We scurried into the house. Both the twins and Patrick, as well as some friends, had left messages on the landline after hearing about what happened on the news. Mom did her best to return all the calls and let them know everything was alright while I went upstairs and took a shower. After my shower, my cell phone rang. I smiled when I recognized Barbara’s number. “Hi,” she said. “How’s my favorite blond?” “Tired and probably in for tons of nightmares, but very glad you called. How’s my favorite German lady?” She laughed. “Well, I don’t expect to have nightmares, but I’m tired as well. The neighbor helped me board up the broken windows until they can be fixed tomorrow.” “I’m so, so sorry.” “Ginny,” Barbara said with mock scolding, “if you say that again, I just might have to come over and spank you.” “And I just might like it, too,” I said with a laugh. We chatted for a few more minutes and then wished each other a good night. “Gute Nacht, sweet Ginny,” said Barbara. “Gute Nacht, Barb.” I clicked off my phone, threw it on the dresser and yawned. I had planned on reading for a while, but I was simply too tired. I headed downstairs one last time to grab an apple so I wouldn’t wake up hungry, and to say goodnight to my parents. I was braiding my waist-length hair when the phone rang again. Annoyed, I glanced at the Caller ID display and saw that it was Shelma. Not wanting to worry her, I decided to chat for a few minutes with her, even though those few minutes ended up stretching closer to half an hour. The phone rang the instant I clicked off with Shelma. “Damn it!” I swore, looking at the phone’s display. The number was blocked. Should I or shouldn’t I answer it? Deciding to settle my curiosity over who would be calling and 11:00 at night, I decided to answer. “Hello?” “Where’s my fucking computer, Ginny?” NO! My mind spun like a washing machine, and my heart took off at breakneck speed. “Where is it, Ginny?” It couldn’t be! “Who the hell is this?” “You know damn well who it is,” said the unmistakable, unquestionable and thoroughly unnerving voice of the woman known only as Anina Hahn. But it couldn’t be her! It had to be someone playing a joke. Maybe even a relative of hers who sounded just like her, and that was just as crazy. “You’re dead,” I said, feeling like a fool as I realized just how ridiculous my words sounded even to myself. “Oh, I’m anything but dead, Ginny girl. And I’m going to make sure you not only make up for the services you still owe me but for that stolen computer as well.” “I didn’t steal your fucking computer!” “I think you did.” “I think you’re crazy. It was the guys who broke in that took the damn thing.” “I’m just telling you like it is, Ginny.” “Who the hell are you and how did you get this number?” “Life is just a dream.” “What?” I asked, not understanding what she meant. “I said life is just a dream.” I mulled this strange sentence over in my mind for a moment, but I still didn’t get the point. “Look,” I said sternly, “I saw Anina Hahn get shot in the head. I saw the paramedics pronounce her dead. Then I saw them bag and haul her sorry ass away. So whoever this is can’t possibly be the same person. The only similarities you share are how you sound and how crazy you are.” “Funny how they couldn’t identify me.” Yeah, it was,I thought to myself. “Don’t you think, Gin?” “What’s that supposed to mean? If your name isn’t Anina, then what is it?” I shouted, a bit surprised that my shouting hadn’t roused the curious attention of my parents. “A name is just a name,” she said. “What kind of a criminal record do you have that they somehow missed? No one as crazy as you could possibly be without one. Especially as old as you are.” “Du schuldest mir.” “I don’t owe you shit.” “Ooh, somebody’s learning German.” “Yeah, Anina. I’m learning.” “From that ugly thing that supposedly shot me?” “She’s not ugly at all. She’s way hotter than you ever were.” “I wonder if she’d say that if I paid her a visit.” “You leave her alone!” I screamed, now afraid for Barbara once again. “I’m the one you’re pissed at, so why don’t you just concentrate on taking it all out on me?” “But if she’s the one who shot me, shouldn’t I have a bone to pick with her, too? You just cheated me out of your lovely body and some money. She took my life.” With a trembling hand, I pulled the phone away from my ear. This was insane. Just totally and completely insane! It couldn’t be happening. It wasn’t happening! I was simply imagining the whole thing because I was under severe duress. That’s all it was. Either that or it was a prank caller that sounded amazingly like Anina Hahn. Over the ear-splitting, blood-curdling sound of her insane laughter, I said, “Look, I don’t know who the hell you really are. All I know is that you just better stay away from both Barbara and me, or else you’ll be very sorry.” “Why? You two gonna kill me again, blondie?” I snapped the phone shut to another peel of her insane, shrilly laughter. I paced my room frantically for a moment, hands running fearfully across the top of my head. “I gotta call Barbara and warn her!” I thought out loud as I reached for the phone once again and quickly punched in the numbers. “Hello?” said a voice which I was sure was Barbara’s. “Barbara, you’re not going to believe this, but someone who sounds exactly like Anina just called me. She keeps going on and on about services I owe her, the computer your nephew and his friend took, and all kinds of other crazy stuff. Stuff I thought only the real Anina knew and then she… hello?” “Yes, I’m here, Ginny,” said Anina. “Oh, my God!” I breathed in fear. I was never more terrified than I was that night. I thought I would faint on the spot. “Who the fuck are you and why are you doing this?!” My only reply was that same piercing, evil laughter. “No!” I screamed as I threw the phone against the wall. I flopped down onto my bed in a heap of tears. I sobbed nonstop for a few minutes, and then my head snapped toward the door of my room. Oh, my God. My parents! I sprang up from the bed and ran out of the room. Where the hell were they? “Mom? Dad?” I glanced down the staircase. Why were they so quiet? I proceeded to race down the stairs, but then I was suddenly gripped by an overwhelming and paralyzing fear. But I also knew I couldn’t stay upstairs forever. I had to go down there and find out what the hell was going on. Very little light shone from below as I slowly headed down the stairs, heart pounding painfully in my chest. I gripped the banister with a shaky hand, praying that my rubbery-feeling legs wouldn’t buckle beneath me and send me tumbling down the stairs. When I reached the bottom of the stairs, enough light from the barely audible high definition TV illuminated my parents’ forms as they sat side by side on the couch across from it. They were leaning slightly toward one another and appeared to be sound asleep. I couldn’t help but find it odd that they could sleep through all the shouting I had done upstairs. It also wasn’t like them to fall asleep downstairs in front of the TV. “Mom?” Through the shadows of the semi-darkened room, I saw her twitch. I thought my voice had startled her awake, but she remained quiet. “Mom, you have to wake up. We’ve got a big problem.” I glanced at my father’s form. “Dad, get up. Get up! I’m scared. We’ve got to get out of here!” I fumbled for the switch on the lamp that sat on the table at the end of the couch. Finally, it snapped on, and I could now see my parents’ slit throats. I screamed and screamed and screamed until a pair of rough hands snuck up and grabbed me from behind.