Laura Butterworth

The Merry Maid

Marianna, be a dear and fetch me my paints and apron? I remember those words. They were the last ones Deidre Talbot ever said right before I killed her. She stood there by the water lilies behind the manor in her sundress, talking into the heart shaped locket that acted as her walkie-talkie to me. I did as I was told, only I never delivered them to her. Instead, I delivered a brisk twist to her fragile cream colored neck, breaking it, instantly my prior mistress. She fell into the water, looking like Ophelia in her final moment when she could bear the weight of the world no longer.