Monster

I ran with no regard for the blood dripping down my face. I listened for the sound of pursuit, but all I heard were my own footsteps and my labored breathing.

I had fled to a more affluent neighborhood. No streetlights dared to flicker here. No yards had so much as a weed, let alone trash.

I turned one more corner and finally slowed down. I studied the homes, searching for one with lights on inside. One house showed the flicker of a TV. I went to the door. No bell. I knocked. I heard muffled noises and then the click of the door unlocking. A lady - maybe in her 70s - peered around the inner door though the screen. After that initial glance, she opened the door wide.

"Goodness gracious, dear! What happened to you?"

With my adrenaline wearing off, my temperature plummeted, and I was shivering. "M-my stepdad..."

"Say no more. Let's get you cleaned up and call home."

"No!" I practically shrieked. With my hand on my chest, I calmed myself down. "I don't want to go back there. Can I just get a bandage and rest for a bit?"

"Of course, dear. I'm Ella. What's your name?"

"I'm Sss... uh... Samantha."

She raised her eyebrows. "Very well, Samantha. You sit here at the table. I'll get some bandages."

The TV continued to drone on as Ella disappeared. She didn't take very long. She returned with two boxes and a damp washcloth.

"I wasn't sure what size to get. Let me take a look, now." She pressed the warm washcloth to my head. "It doesn't look like you'll need stitches. Would you like some water or something to eat?"

"Water would be nice, thank you. You're very kind."

She walked around the table and got a glass from the cupboard. "You're lucky I couldn't sleep, or I wouldn't have heard your knock."

She handed me the water. "Do you need a ride to a friend's house or something? I promise I'm a good driver, and my car runs like new."

"No, I just need to rest for a bit."

"You look to be about my granddaughter's age. She just turned 18."

I nodded.

She went on, "If my daughter married someone who was harming her child, she would want to know about it. Or if you prefer, I could call the police."

"Thank you, Ella. I can handle it. Now that you mention food, I am a bit hungry."

"Let me see what I can offer you."

Ella's kitchen, though showing wear, was spotless. She pulled several containers from the cupboard and then the fridge. "I can make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, I can heat up some pasta, or I can make you a sandwich with cold cuts."

"Peanut butter and jelly sounds perfect."

The TV reported, "Police are on the hunt for 17-year-old Sally Wheeler, suspected of shooting her mother and stepfather. She may have a head injury sustained when her stepfather tried to protect Sally's mother, who was unfortunately pronounced dead at the scene. Sally is armed and should be considered dangerous."

Ella looked at me knowingly.

I pulled my stepfather's pistol out of my purse. I sighed. "Why did you have to leave the TV on? I don't want to hurt you."

Ella shrugged, surprisingly calm under pressure. "Then don't. You have a choice here. The wise thing to do is to turn yourself in and tell the authorities what happened."

I said, "No, thank you. I'm going to Mexico." I pulled the trigger. Ella fell in what seemed like slow motion. Cold cuts littered the floor, sprayed with her blood.

I stepped around her and started gathering food. I would probably be driving all day. I'd have to find Ella's money and anything of value that I could fit in her car.