By Joseph Logsdon
Martin was going to murder the old woman. As far as he was concerned, she had outlived her usefulness. He stared at her house, reluctant to go inside. Martin had been there before, more times than he cared to admit. She stood in the window, her eyes begging him to come inside. Martin had been working for her for years, and in all that time, she had never once smiled at him. It was strange, too strange for him to comprehend. Why would she suddenly smile at him, unless she was planning something?
Martin walked towards the house, carefully watching his every step. By the time he had reached the door, her smile had disappeared. He knocked on the door, only to receive no reply. Martin shook his head in frustration, quietly obsessing over his detailed plan. He would take her for a walk, hopefully somewhere with plenty of cars. He would push her into the street, where she would most certainly die. The plan was foolproof, absolutely and positively foolproof.
After minutes of waiting, she finally opened the door. She gazed at him, her eyes full of hatred and resentment. Having lost all happiness, the old woman was determined to make Martin as miserable as possible. If she had to be lonely, then so did the rest of the world.
"For a minute, I thought you were someone important," she exclaimed, spitting on the floor.
"It's just me, same as always. Mrs. Watson, are you ready to go on your walk?"
"Afraid not, I'm very sick," she whispered, coughing into the air.
Something definitely wasn't right. If there was one thing that Mrs. Wilson loved, it was strolling through the neighborhood. Sick or not, she always managed to get out of bed. Why was she deceiving him? Did she suspect him? She might have been old, but she certainly wasn't stupid.
"You're lying to me, I can see it in your eyes," Martin confessed, somehow gaining the courage to confront her.
"I'm lying? What a coincidence, I always thought you were the liar. You come into my house, all nice and helpful, looking like you care about me. Money, and money alone, is what you care about. I could die tomorrow, it wouldn't make a difference. You'll find another old woman, and before you know it, she'll be giving you everything she has. That's all you do, you steal from old women," she grunted.
"If you dislike me so much, why don't you fire me?"
"Don't you think I've considered it? Widowed, no children, no one to take care of me. Don't you see? You're my only hope," she whimpered.
Tears started running down her face, evoking sympathy from Martin. Her tears touched him, and for the first time, he had a moment of weakness. Did he really have to kill her? She was just a lonely, innocent woman. Her age aside, she was still quite beautiful. She had this radiance, this presence that consistently persisted. Not entirely certain, Martin eventually decided to continue with his horrific plan.
"About the walk, are you sure you won't change your mind?"
"Well, on second thought, I guess I'll face the world," she laughed, seemingly enjoying the company of her employee.
Martin took her hand, gently leading her away from the house. Mrs. Watson placed her head against his chest, awkwardly hugging him. It was not only strange to Martin, it was also strange to the entire neighborhood. Everywhere they went, people stared at them. She looked at him, overwhelmed by the power of love. In a matter of moments, she had gone from a bitter woman, to someone entirely different.
"I love you, I love you so much," she confessed, tightening her grip.
"Mrs. Watson, don't you think this is very inappropriate? I couldn't possibly, it's not right," he protested, trying to get away from her.
"Are you afraid of what they'll think of us? I'm wondering, why is it so forbidden? I love you, you love me. If I were a man and you were a woman, there wouldn't be a problem. Sexism can be so cruel, wouldn't you say?"
"You're mistaken, I don't love you. You're confused, totally confused. You were right the first time, I'm only after your money," he stuttered.
"Lie all you want, I know the truth," she whispered, her lips touching his face.
The sidewalk was slippery, making it incredibly difficult for him to escape her. She had him cornered, with no direct way to escape. He backed away, suddenly unaware of his immediate surroundings. The next thing Martin knew, he was in the middle of the street. The car came towards him, speeding awfully fast. Martin glared into the headlights, regretful of every choice he had ever made. The car collided with his body, the wheels spinning out of control. Mrs. Watson stared at the accident, laughing.
"That will teach you, don't mess with old women," she laughed.