Read part 13 - here
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‘I’ve made dinner reservations for just the two of us.’ Manu’s soft voice failed to assuage the stiff tension Uma felt at finding the bottom of the pot empty.
‘Yes, good’ she said distractedly while squeezing the phone between her right shoulder and ear, bending to pick another pot. ‘That’s good’
‘And? what else? have they come for pest control already?’
‘Yes, yes.’ Uma knelt in front of a haphazard row of similar withered potted plants.
‘What did you have for lunch? Must have eaten outside.’ Manu was in a chatty mood.
The pressure of time, of her plans immediately crumbling at this man’s doorstep, was quickly colouring Uma’s visage with scarlet strain ‘ Yes I ate’. Why did she even pick up Manu’s phone? What was she doing kneeling in the dirt, plucking plants from their pots?
How could I not have thought.. and suddenly she remembered something.
Uma exhaled long. ‘I have eaten sweetheart.’ she spoke calmly. ‘I’ll talk to you in a bit.’
Manu was happy that day and his cheeriness echoed in his voice. ‘Okay,’ he’d said and hung up.
Manu’s moment of contentment and delight clashed with her frantic seconds of despair and her sudden loss of nerves at being unable to find the keys had unsettled her. Her knees wobbled while she fumbled with the flower pots trying to rearrange them after her fruitless frenzied search and walked to the backside of the house.
She had lost time, precious time and her phone vibrated in her pocket.
Bastard calling
‘Where. Are. You.?’ Caged rage, his voice was about to erupt in a million screams and hurtful words.
Uma felt a gnawing cramp growing inside, the maggots coiling under the skin of her arms edged towards the spine.
‘I’m running late’ her voice came out a dreaded whisper like it used to almost a decade back.
No, this couldn’t be. She had changed. Uma drew herself to full height, she wouldn’t droop just to make him look and feel taller, she wouldn’t walk with a hunch. ‘I’m late’ She imitated his voice. ‘Had some work. I’ll see you.’
He was grating his teeth and breathing hard. ‘You bitch. What are you playing at? Now, look what I do to you once I reach your house. I’m coming to get you at your house, you bitch. I’ll drag you out..’
‘I’m not in my house’ Uma said calmly keeping herself from gouging his eyeball through the phone. ‘I told you I’ll be there in a bit.’
‘How long?’ he asked, his voice oily with an intent to harm.
‘Fifteen minutes.’ Uma replied.
She’d have to be quick.
She tried pulling open the kitchen window which didn’t want to open all the way out, getting stuck with years of neglect, dirt and congealed wax that had dripped all over its pane through the rails, into the sill and sat collecting layers of grimy murk.
Uma held her breath and pulled with restrained strength to the sound of a soft crack which was the thick film of wax giving way and falling to flakes.
It wasn’t a very large window and Uma flung in her cloth back and wedged herself in, forcing her body to go through the slight wide opening, contracting her stomach, crushing her waist and pulling herself through the narrow window until she was almost doing a handstand on the filthy kitchen platform, she wiggled the last of her length sliding her ankles in and crouched on the platform blanching as she got hit full in the face with that awful reek that dwelled in his house which might have been chronicled in hell itself because nothing existing could ever breathe in that torture.
Tying a scarf around her mouth she shut the window.
The kitchen was teeming with lifeforms that had initiated a colony of their own inside of leftover food packets and pizza boxes on which her cloth bag had landed rattling the chitinous denizens.
Uma slowly walked out of the kitchen, everything had somehow gotten dirtier if that was possible in less than two days and she felt something crunch under her foot. A careless cockroach.
She carefully studied the room, observing and mentally remembering every detail of what she saw. It was a bottle that she now looked for and found one almost empty next to which sat a stained teacup full of rum.
She emptied the jar of powdered sleeping pills into that cup, knowing his vile habit of never wasting alcohol.
Uma had pounded an entire packet of high potency sleeping pills the night before.
Where was she going with it she wasn’t sure but somehow these pills would find a way into his system, of that she was certain.
Now for her plan proper, as these were just some frills attached to the main scheme of things.
Pest begone.
Uma walked back to the kitchen and turned on the gas knobs.
The large gas cylinder attached at the end of the length of the gas pipe had never been used and so Uma surmised that it was full of good stuff.
That was her plan. She’d thought of it over and over and knew a few of his habits, ones that were questionless, that he always came back home and immediately knocked back a drink or two or even three with the accompaniment of a leisurely smoke.
The last cigarette that you light will ignite and burn you from here to hell.
There was no sound except for the stench which usually accompanied leaking gas and it was quickly spreading.
That was easy.
Now all that remained was to call and inform him that she’d rather meet him someplace not as public, someplace like his house and so he’d hurry back, knock back some sleep laced drink, light a cigarette and boom!
Plan A was going to be a blazing success.
Uma opened her cloth bag to retrieve a change of clothes and the hair on her arms bristled with fear.
There was the unmistakable sound of a car outside, followed by the distinct thud of a car door closing.
Uma froze and she knew it to be him.
No no no no no no.
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