The Woman in Blue

A thumping sound jarred her out of a deep sleep. She listened, but after a minute of dead silence, she wondered if perhaps she’d been dreaming. She strained to turn her head toward the alarm clock by Gail’s side of the bed. It was nearly noon! The thumping began again. This time, it sounded like someone was hammering downstairs. A few minutes later, her worst nightmare came up the stairs and into the bedroom, noting that Misha was now awake. “It’s about time you got your lazy ass up,” she said. “Well, it’s not like I could’ve just gotten up and come down to join you,” Misha pointed out, pulling on the ropes that bound her. “Don’t be a smart ass,” Gail ordered as she freed Misha. “The laundry needs to be done. I threw it all down the cellar stairs. You’re going to get down there and take care of it. Only then, after it’s done, will you get something to eat.” Gail roughly shoved Misha downstairs and opened the cellar door. “Go on,” she ordered. Down Misha went, into the dark, dank, cool cellar. The light streaming through the grimy windows was just barely enough to illuminate the string to the light switch, which she pulled. Awash in a little more light, she threw the laundry into the washer. Just as she was about to reach for the knob to start the machine, she heard a muffled cry. It was coming from the inaccessible part of the cellar! Then she heard it again. Someone was moaning. It was weak, but audible and desperate. My God!Misha thought. There are two of us held hostage here. I’ve got to do something! She turned and headed for the base of the stairs. As quietly as she could, she scurried up. To her delight, the stairs didn’t creak as much as she thought they would. She gently pressed her ear to the door. She heard intermittent hammering. She slowly reached for the knob. To her utter shock and delight, it turned! The door was unlocked! Just as soon as the hammering began again—so it would hopefully drown out any sounds she made—she opened the door and stepped into a little hallway between the kitchen and living room. She peered slowly into the living room doorway because she knew that was where the hammering was coming from. Her heart felt like it would literally jump out of her chest. She saw Gail hammering a nail into a wall. A picture of a country scene leaned against the wall on the floor right beside her. Her back was toward Misha. Misha wasted no time. She scampered into the room as lightly and quietly as she could, grabbed a wooden figurine of an elephant, and slammed it with all her might into the back of Gail’s head. Gail fell to the ground instantly. Misha charged for the door, but it was locked! “The key!” she mumbled aloud. “Where’s the key?” She fumbled around the living room and kitchen. Unable to find the key and not wanting to chance Gail coming to before she had a chance to escape, Misha grabbed the large hammer Gail had been using and smashed the closest window with it. Then, taking the hammer with her, she dove through the window and rolled onto the ground just a few feet below. She stood up on shaky legs and ran. She feared Gail would burst out the window after her, but she didn’t. She first thought of running into the woods since that would provide more cover. However, she chose to run toward the road instead, because that would increase her chances of being picked up by someone who could help her. But it was a very bad choice, for just as she rounded the corner of the house to head toward the street, Gail appeared in front of her with a gun. “You fucking bitch!” she screamed. Misha froze. The fear kept her riveted in place as she observed the blood in Gail’s hair from where she’d hit her. Gail advanced closer. “You fucking, no-good, selfish, ungrateful little bitch!” The gun fired. Misha was jolted violently by the loud pop. Oh my God, I’ve been shot!she thought as her body stiffened to cement. She gazed down at the front of her body. But where was the blood? And why wasn’t there any pain? Just then, Misha looked up at Gail, who wore a look of deep shock. She noticed the red circular stain on the lower side of her light yellow shirt, right before Gail’s knees buckled, dropping her to the ground much the same way she had dropped to the living room floor when Misha had struck her. A deep trembling took over Misha at that point. Shakily, she lifted her head to see Dale, pistol raised, standing several yards behind where Gail had been standing only seconds ago. She noticed other cops as well, some uniformed, some not, all with their guns drawn. Dale quickly tucked her gun into the waistband and ran toward Misha, who collapsed sobbing into Dale’s arms right before she passed out.