Mouse and Cat Read online

Mouse and Cat

  Copyright Ben Kalcher 2011

  This short story is entirely a work of fictions. The names, characters

  and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination.

  Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, events or locations is

  entirely coincidental.

  Praise for Mouse and Cat

  Mouse and Cat is definitely no Disney film

  Sunday Mirror

  (In reference to the short film)

  A very well thought out story by an excellent author, can't wait for more!

  Reader via iTunes

  Creepy stories from this author! Good for a short story.

  Reader via iTunes

  Good revenge story with an open ending. Makes you wonder what happened after.

  Reader via Goodreads

  Mouse and Cat

  Sometimes revenge succeeds where karma has failed...

  Soaked to the skin Sophia stood watching the house her hand tightly gripped on the cold metal gun she had in her pocket. Eyes fixed; she focused on the many dark memories the house held for her. The heavy rain that pounded the ground was drenching her face that was showing all the signs of fear. Pale, ghostly but determined.

 

  Squinting her eyes she could see him through the water stained sash window lying on the sofa, asleep. Light bounced off the walls as the images changed on the TV. They were the only lights that lit the otherwise dark house.

  Her heart was pounding like a freight train in full motion, rocketing down the track.

  With each hard hitting thud she held her cold, wet hand against her chest to ease the increasing pain. Breathing heavily and looking up at the dark sky, she knew tonight was the night she had been waiting for. For years she had built up the courage to return and now, here, she had to complete her task. She was finally going to end the nightmare that she had been living for so long. It was never easy. Memories of torment haunted both her dreams and when in a conscious state. She sighed heavily.

  She was about to enter the house again for the first time in ten years.

  She went directly to the back door, knowing all too well that it would be unlocked.

  Her uncle, Frank, would always leave it unlocked for a quick escape for a cigarette.

  He never smoked in the house in fear of staining the walls and furniture. His house was only thing he ever really cared about.

  The path to the back was dark. The sodium street lights were out of view and unable to shed their yellow light on the dark path through the garden. She had walked the route many times before and felt sure she would make it to the door without any incidents. Toying with the butt of the gun, she made her way around the back of the house. The wet, poorly maintained path was slippery, but she held her balance.

  As she reached the door, a dim light came on. A gnome, deceiving the eye with a false smile welcomed her at the foot of the door. Most people had a fear of clowns; Sophia, however had a phobia of gnomes, and her uncle knew this. Their tall pointy hats, wide eyes, long smiles and aging white beards scared the hell out of her. She tried the handle. As expected it was unlocked. She took a long, deep breath and entered the dreadful house.

  She had expected the scent of death to be present; a scent of stale blood, semen, maybe decaying flesh but instead she was greeted by the overpowering smell of freesia and jasmine. It was an unusual smell for him to have in the house, but strangely very pleasant. She turned around and locked the door.

  Despite the darkness, broken only by a single slice of light emitting from the one room, she moved through the kitchen and into the foyer, as quietly as her body would allow. The keys were hung up by the front door. She expected them to be there. Her uncle was proving a little too predictable.

  The door just to the left of her was ajar. She pushed the door lightly allowing it to groan slightly under the pressure. She could hear him snoring clearly when the volume from the television dropped to near silence. The sound made her body shiver. Behind the ear hurting snoring voices from the television arose again but they did little to mask his sound.

  Just beside her was a large oak door with two deadbolt locks one at the top and the other at the bottom. Those locks had been placed there to trap and contain her all those years ago. As she opened it, her chest began to tighten. Those horrors were taking a firm grip on her. Two steps led to a large metal door. Two more bolt locks were in place.

  She opened the second door and felt for a pull cord. She gave it a small tug to turn on a dim light for the ten steps to the bottom. A cold sensation washed over her. She glanced behind expecting her uncle to be standing there, but she was alone. She took a deep breath trying to calm her nerves. She looked down at the stairs but didn’t descend. She could see a wooden chair with red velvet padding placed in the middle of the room. A chair she was so familiar with, it had never moved from that spot.

  Padding covered all the walls. It was for soundproofing. No windows. No other exits apart from the stairs. To her, it was always like hell’s descent. Frank would march her down there with his belt fastened around one of her wrists.

  Sophia shuddered at the images in her head of the torture she suffered from her uncle. Hot candle wax poured on her skin, lashings from his belt whilst bound to the chair with no means of escape. She closed her eyes and returned to the main hallway.

  Leaving the light on, and the doors unlocked. She couldn’t understand why the room remained the same as it had done all those years ago. She even started to believe that she may not have been the only girl to suffer his tortuous ways.

  Sophia made her way back into the kitchen and locked the windows and double checking the backdoor followed by the front door at the foot of the main staircase.

  One door at a time, one window at a time, he would be trapped just like she had always been. She had thoroughly planned this and wasn’t going to let one mistake let her fail. She may never get another chance.

  She tiptoed up the stairs as the bare steps creaked under her weight. As she walked along the upstairs hallway; she could hear a young girl’s screams, her screams from her past filling the cold, unforgiving house. Screams of her despair- they sounded so real.

  She shook her head violently trying to remove the dreadful sounds. She wished never to hear or think of them again and this night those nightmares and thoughts could finally be put to bed. That was what she hoped killing Frank would do.

  Back downstairs, she went into the living room and locked the final window, just as he stirred in his sleep. A light grumble escaped his mouth. She sat down on a chair opposite him and turned up the television. He slowly awoke to the shock of seeing her sitting in front of him. She forced a smile as his eyes drifted around the room. He was confused and unable to speak as his eyes adjusted to the light.

  ‘Hello, uncle, how are you?’ She asked, her eyes narrowing as she focused on his aging

  face, a face that was so different to the one she had known ten years ago.

  ‘Sophie?’

  ‘It’s Sophia,’ she corrected.

  He frowned and stuttered in shock at the sight of her. ‘How...how did you get in?’

  ‘I thought I would come and see you, been such a long time. Miss me?’

  ‘How did you get in?’ he demanded.

  Sophia sighed. ‘Come on, uncle, I’ve been here enough times to know the backdoor is always unlocked. Still smoking as much as you used? Those things will kill you eventually,’ she said looking at the packs of cigarettes piled on a small table beside him.

  He looked towards the rain soaked windows and the shallow light that shone behind them.

  Even the half crescent moon that tried to break through the heavy clouds couldn’t penetrate the windows. ‘Why com
e now at this time of night and in this godforsaken weather?’

  ‘Good question. It took me years to build up the courage to come here, and tonight it felt so right, do you ever get that “just right” feeling Frank?’ Sophia asked.

  ‘What do you want from me?’

  ‘Not too much. I just want you to feel some pain, the same pain you made me feel for all those years. Do you know what I mean?'

  ‘No I don't, please leave now before I call the cops.' He began to move in his chair.

  ‘Yeah, let’s do that, let’s call the cops.’ She reached out for the phone. ‘I’m sure they’d love to see the basement and the stuff you’ve hidden. Do you still have the belt, the whips and chains?’

  ‘Leave now!’ He raised his voice and stood up, anger swelling in his face. His left eye began to twitch.

  She pulled the gun out and pointed it directly at him. ‘Sit down! I’ve come such a long way. Where’s the hospitality that you always gave me? You always made me feel so welcomed.'

  He quickly sat. Mouth hung open, surprised and terribly frightened. ‘You’re a fucking psycho.’

  ‘Why is the room unchanged? You’ve done what you done to me with other girls haven’t you.’

  He stared long and hard at Sophia. ‘That isn’t true at all. It’s been left because of the memories it holds.’

  ‘You’re sick and I’m not buying that. I will make sure you never harm anyone ever again.’

  ‘Please put the gun away. It’s making me nervous,’ he pleaded.

  She laughed. ‘I don’t think so; we’re going to talk for a little bit, get reacquainted.’

  ‘What if I don’t want to talk?’

  ‘Simple, I’ll shoot you,’ she threatened, slightly waving the gun at him. The cards were in her hand. She was the boss. She liked that feeling, the power that she currently held over him.

  Sophia took off her shoes to feel more comfortable. As she did this, she noticed a fear in his eyes that she had never seen before; it made her slightly happy. During those years, the only fear would be seen in her eyes; her cries for help going unnoticed. He loved it and thrived on it.

  Frank had never married. He had failed in many relationships, but was a very successful businessman; that however didn't excuse what he did to her for so many years. His dark brown eyes shifted between the gun in her hand and her eyes.

  ‘So how have you been all these years?’ she asked.

  He hesitated to answer but continued to look at the gun that intimidated him.

  ‘I...have been well, how...about you?’ His words were pathetic. He was a shadow of his former self. He no long held fear over Sophia.

  ‘Oh not bad, I mean, it’s been near on ten years since I ran away from home, never saw my parents again and now they are both six feet under, do you know whose fault that is?’

  ‘Mine,’ he glumly replied.

  She walked over to him and smacked him across the face with the gun. ‘Yes. Yes it was. You ruined my life,’ she said, raising her voice, her face becoming redder as her bottled up anger was being unleashed.

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  She let out a shrill laugh. ‘You’re sorry? Sorry for abusing me for all those years? ‘I never got to experience a proper childhood because of you.’

  ‘Yes I am; I just couldn't control myself; I needed help but was too afraid to seek it.'

  ‘You took five years of my life away with abuse. You raped me, took your fantasies out on me, you beat me, is that what you call being sorry? No child should ever go through that, especially from a family member.’

  He removed his gaze from her to the floor; he wanted to avoid eye contact. He was finally ashamed

  ‘What was the game you used to make me play?’ She asked as she paced in front of him holding the gun in both hands behind her back.

  Frank looked back at her. ‘I can’t remember,’ he replied, feeling all sorry for himself.

  ‘Yes you can! What was it?’

  ‘It...It was Cat and Mouse.’

  ‘What was the object of the game?’

  He sighed, ‘I was the cat, you were the mouse, I would let you run and hide and I would chase and find.’

  Sophia closed her eyes. ‘And what would you do when you found me?’

  ‘I can't remember. I can't!' His eyes were cascading. It looked as if he would cry.

  ‘You do. Now what did you do?' Her voice cracked slightly as it grew louder. The venom in each trailing word hit him hard, and that is what Sophia wanted.

  ‘I would grab you and take you to my basement and...And do as I wished.’

  ‘Yes, that was when you would rape me or beat me, right? Tying me to that cold wooden chair, arms tied to the back and feet bound to the legs. Feeling like nothing could stop you. Do you still feel like nothing can stop you Frank?’

  ‘No, I don’t,’ he replied.

  ‘Damn right, it has to end tonight. Karma may have failed me, but revenge won't.'

  ‘Why are you doing this, Sophie? Revenge is not the answer.’

  ‘It’s Sophia you fuck, and I’m doing this because you’re sick, and I despise you. Did you do the same things to those other girls you deny bringing here?’ She asked stroking the gun, just like the way he used to stroke her long Blonde hair.

  ‘I told you damn it. There was no one else!’

  Sophia let of a sly smile. ‘I don’t believe you.’

  ‘Can I please have a drink?’ he asked pathetically. ‘I’m gasping over here.’

  ‘No! Instead, we will play a game. It will be called Mouse and Cat, and it’s time for the mouse to do the chasing and finding.’ She stood, towering over him, making him feel smaller and smaller.

  ‘Why?’ He asked pushing back into the sofa.

  ‘Because you will feel how I felt for so long; you will feel weak and useless that no one will save you because here’s the catch, no one will. She laughed.

  ‘You’re insane,’ Frank replied.

  ‘No, I’m seeking justice, now enough, I’ll let you run now, but, try to escape, and I will kill you! Now, go!’

  He got up slowly and made his way to the living room door, moving cautiously. He pulled the door open turning to Sophia brief, and then disappeared. She smiled. Until tonight, she couldn't recall ever smiling in this house.

  From the outside of the living room, he tried the kitchen and front doors before running up the stairs. She waited allowing the game to unfold. She paced the living room a couple of times and picked up a small but sturdy brass ornament. She followed after him.

  ‘Ready or not here I come,’ she called out.

  She ascended the stairs having heard his heavy footsteps race up them. At the top only two doors were closed, the bathroom and main bedroom. She checked the bathroom. Empty. Then, she moved onto the bedroom and kicked the door hard enough for it to break open and to see him attempting to break out of the window.

  ‘Oh, so the cat disobeys orders.’ she said crossing the threshold.

  He turned around and threw a picture frame towards her. It missed, and he moved closer to her clenching his fists, ready to strike her. She backed up a couple of steps and threw the ornament, directly hitting his face. He staggered backwards as she walked over to him and with the butt of the gun hit him across the back of the head.

  He fell to the floor, unconscious as blood started to ooze from the gash.

  ---