Inanimate (2 page)

“
If you don’t wash your hair
people will know you haven’t s
howered. That’s why when I’m running late for work
I just put some water through mine, deodorant does the
rest.”

His dad
would say this to him as a joke.
Connor could never remember him ever being late for work, but
still, the concept was sound. So he washed the hair on his head and
then went for the second most important area, the smelly place: The
armpits. Although he was nowhere close to growing hair under his
arms, he liked to make sure he smelled clean. His mother would know
if he didn’t shower properly and he didn’t want to have to shower
again. He didn’t want to be late for his first day of
school.

Toast and strawberry jam. That’s what
Martha Williams liked for breakfast. “Simple, sweet and elegant”
her Scottish mother used to say. “Alongside a cup of tea you
couldn’t ask for a better start to your day.” Connor was brought up
this way too. So when he came out of the shower, dressed and ready
for breakfast he knew exactly what to expect. Given his mother’s
background, tea was always Orange Pekoe but she would never refer
to it as that, it would simply be tea. Still, Connor never took it;
orange juice was good enough for him.

“
You know you probably should
have eaten before you got dressed
.” Martha said with a drizzle of
sarcasm.

“
I know
,” retorted the youngster as he
carefully bit round the edges of the slice, avoiding the dreaded
crumbs on his shirt.

Watching the care and
deliberateness of her
son’s manner in which to eat toast without making
a mess Martha could not help but be amused.

“
Are you all set to go?” she
asked

“
Yep I have
pencils
,
crayons, a ruler and an eraser in my pencil case, all packed up in
my bag. I just need my lunch and I’m ready to go.”

“
L
unch?” asked his mother. “You didn’t tell
me you needed that. I thought they fed you at school.”

Connor
was slightly put out. “Well I need
money then, for the cafeteria.”

“
Money? What’s
that?”

Connor
suddenly realized his mom was just
joking with him. “Come on, mom!”

“
No, I’m serious, you might have
to starve then I’m afraid
.”

Martha
gestured as if to say “oh well” but
Connor wasn’t buying it, he was too smart.

“
I’ll
meet you by the door” Connor stated,
turning his nose up in a snobbish fashion.

“
Wait!” demanded
Martha “What do I
get?”

Martha and Connor both
look
ed at
each other for a long moment, the woman’s long dark hair framed her
pretty face. The boy relented, running to his mother and giving her
a hug. Martha did enjoy her little games.

“
Smile C
onnor!”

The camera flash dazzled the
youngster and he rubbed
his eyes.

“
Mom, I’m going to be
late!”

Fondly, the woman smiled at her
son.

“
I just want to get one more
picture before
we leave. You look so handsome in your uniform.”

“
This
is not a uniform mom; it’s just my
school clothes.”

“
Same thing
!” His mother giggled as she
snapped another picture.

Martha Williams wanted her son
to wear a uniform like she did when she lived in
Scotland
. But
this was America. And in America, public schoolchildren seldom wore
uniforms. But she would be damned if Connor was going to go to
school looking “like a scruff.” She picked him up a nice brown
opened necked polo shirt with a classic pair of blue jeans.
“Stylish yet comfortable” she called it; but Connor didn’t care, he
was anxious for his first day of class. He was smart for a five
year old. Although most children were 6 when they move into the
first grade, Connor’s kindergarten teacher had suggested he start a
year early due to unusually high intelligence level. As a mother,
Martha could not have been more proud to hear this.

“
You’ll wi
pe the floor with them
Connor.”

Connor
smiled. “Can we go now mom? The bus
will be here soon”

Connor waited patiently with Martha on the
sidewalk. His stomach tingled when he saw the big yellow bus pull
up alongside him.

“
This
is it, my first day.”

Connor fidgeted as Martha
fixed
his
collar and patted at his chest, clearing off some fluff. Patiently,
the driver waits; he knew this would be his longest trip of the
year, with all the protective mothers reluctant to let their kids
go for the first time. Martha smiled proudly, her joy that her only
son had grown up shone like the sun from her face.

“
Mom, you’re embarrassing
me
.”

“
Oh, of course, sorry” she
said, smiling
fondly.

“
G
o on then, have fun. Me and dad will be
here when you get home”

Connor jogged
on to the bus.
Unlike most children his age he was not shy; instead he smiled at
the burly driver and went to find a seat. Since his was one of the
first houses on the driver’s route he had his choice of almost any
seat. So he chose one next to where his mom was standing. Martha
waved at him, mouthing “Good Luck” and “I Love You” as the bus
pulled away from the curb. Connor sat back and smiled. Today was
his first day of school and nothing was going to spoil it for
him.

The backwind from the bus blew Martha’s
hair a little, along with blowing a selection of fallen leaves from
the overhead elms gently down the street. Motherly she stood,
watching the big yellow cheese-wagon disappear round the corner.
Not one to get overly emotional, Martha simply smiled fondly at the
realization her little boy had grown up. The light breeze disguised
the subtle sun, poking through the clouds at points. One glance off
to the distance let her know that in a few hours the day would be
beautiful. Now however, it was just starting out. Still though,
there was a little chill in the morning air, so she folded her arms
and turned to head up the garden path. She didn’t slow down to
admire the flowers Andy planted in the summer; the roses and the
tulips sure did have some color in them. This pleased her because
the summer was over and still the benefits were lingering. As she
walked briskly, noise seemed to disappear. The neighborhood was
generally quiet in the morning but not like this. She hadn’t really
noticed earlier, what with all the hustle of getting Connor ready
to go, but she definitely noticed now. The wooden porch stepped
thump as she jogged up them. She turned the door knob but something
stopped her entering, a feeling she was being watched. Still
holding on to the knob she turned her head to the left. A large man
startled her. Dressed like he had been jogging the man stared at
her, poised like he needed to tell her something. Confidently,
Martha looked back at the man, but her apprehension was showing
more than she’d like.

“
Can I hel
p you with something?”

The
chiseled, clean shaven face looked
back at her, eyeing her like she was candy.

“
Maybe” he
said softly.

In an instant he
pulled a hunting
knife from the waistband of his shorts and dashed towards her.
Martha frantically twisted the knob and opened the door, but her
care not to open it too wide cost her valuable time. The man
thrusted his arm through the gap and used the leverage to barge his
way in. Backing up towards the staircase she wanted to dash for the
phone but knew it wouldn’t do her any good.

“
Please” she
said strongly “I have a
family.”

“
Oh do you?”
said the man softly. “Why don’t
you lie down and tell me all about them.”

T
he man lunged at Martha quickly. Grabbing
her shoulders with his strong arms; he threw her hard to the
floor.

“
Now don’t fight it, it will be
worse for you if do!” he
threatened as he knelt down over the top of
her.

Without trying to regain her
balance the defiant Martha
turned all her body weight into the man and landed
a strong punch to his jaw, almost pushing him over. Taking
advantage of the moment she tried to get to her feet but he was not
as dazed as she thought he was. Athletically, he tackled her,
pinning her face down to the ground. The large man grabbed her hair
with his fist and lifted her head off the ground.

“
I told you it would be worse for
you if you fought back”
he said before smashing her face onto the hardwood
floor.

Laying
there, blood spackled her face, the
smell of mahogany in her nostrils, Martha was helpless. Barely able
to keep her eyes open she surveyed the room. A serious concussion
hindered her vision. Using what little energy she had left she
lifted her head just slightly and focused what she could on a
family picture hanging on the wall above the staircase. Andy,
Connor, and herself from a year ago stared back at her. The picture
gave her comfort while her mind slowed down. Her attacker violently
pulled off her jeans and panties before pulling off his shorts and,
as aggressive as he was she simply lay there in the beautiful
hallway staring at that wonderful picture. Neutral walls and vivid
black and white contrasting ornaments stood ornate on the tables in
the entranceway. The cat clock shifted its eyes back and forward (a
joke present from Andy when she mentioned the black and white
contrast). The attacker continued his brutal assault on Martha’s
body while her mind moved into that photograph. Beautiful memories
with her son and her husband: The fishing trips, the amusement
parks and the family vacations glided through her mind’s eye. She
was there, not here. After what seemed like a lifetime the man was
finished. Slowly, he stood up, pulling up his shorts. Martha,
coming back into the present and struggling with her senses felt
her defiance flow back into her.

“
Coward!”

Martha’s
shaky voice startled him. This was no
amateur rapist. Martha was not his first victim, but he had never
been spoken to like this after an attack. Martha started laughing,
still lying face down she started laughing. She wanted him to know
he had not broken her spirit, her pride would never allow him to
think that. Still laughing she spoke out.

“
You’re not man! What kind of man
would beat up and rape
a woman? You’re pathetic!”

“
Lady, you better be quiet
now
!”

“
Or what?
You’ll rape me again? Go ahead! Do it
again you fucking coward!”

The attacker
was getting aggravated, he was
not used to being spoken to like this by women he thought he just
dominated.

“
Are you fucking nuts lady? It’s
not smart to push me like this. I’m warning you”

“
You’re a
fucking loser!”

By now, Martha
in full force, not
giving a thought to her own safety.

“
Go back to the basement suite of
your mother’s house you fucking cockroach!”

A twitch of his right eye signaled a snap
in the attacker’s head.

“
You stupid
whore
!”

It was clear Martha struck a
nerve as he lunged towards her with his knife,
thrusting it down into her back.
The knife easily penetrated Martha’s flesh, searing straight
through her organs. Instant silence contrasted the rapists fear. He
hadn’t planned to kill anyone. He liked the women he raped to see
his face, it was part of his thrill. He was a traveler. Once he had
found a victim in one town or city he would move on, staying in
motels on his country wide spree. He had found throughout his
illustrious career that police were not as eager to catch rapists
as the public were led to believe. Especially if they thought it
was an isolated incident. But now, he was a murderer, and the
police seemed to care more about that. He got to his feet. Panic
slowly settled in. He watched Martha’s eyes flicker a little before
closing completely. Scuffing his feet over little traces of
footprints he saw, he tried desperately to destroy any evidence of
his presence there. When he was finished scuffing the footprints he
ran into the kitchen. Stepping back over Martha’s body with a roll
of kitchen towel he frantically wiped at the door knob and the door
itself. He took more roll and tried to wipe down Martha’s body,
especially her lower area. Martha could feel very little in the
minutes she had left on the earth, her last thought was that she
was that she got to see her only son go off on his first day of
school, and that thought would be with her from every moment
on.

The attacker lifted his knife off the
floor and clutched all his paper towels together. Using one to open
the front door he gave one more fear induced look towards his
victim before jogging off to his nearby car. Speeding off, the
backwind from the vehicle blew leaves once more down the quiet
street.