Something had to give… within minutes, the fate of the battle would be decided.
Mary was so focused on Matt’s grimace that it took a moment for her to realize that the blurry patch of white that had manifested in front of her face was actually the flesh of a slender arm. At the end of this out of focus appendage something glistened as it sped toward her face; at the same time, she felt hot breath tickle her ear as a voice whispered from behind.
“Mary Gruber….”
The narrow blade of the X-acto knife sliced into Mary’s eyeball as if it were nothing more than a peeled grape. The pulp was left with a jagged, paper-thin fissure as the tip cut through the wet orb with a squish. Simultaneously, Matt forced the old woman’s hand backward. At first it felt as though the radius and ulna were as rubbery as drumsticks that had been soaked in vinegar. But the hesitation was only brief; it was quickly followed by a dry snapping noise that was drown out by the screeches that erupted from the woman’s spindly throat.
The knife clattered from her hand as she wrenched out of Matt’s grasp. Pressing her palm against her severed retina, she doubled over as if she were about to throw up. Without hesitation, Mona slashed again. This time, the blade sliced through Mary’s eyelid and the old woman twisted like a cat that had just been plunged in boiling water. Her screams echoed through the house and her eyelid dangled against her cheek, swinging like a pendulum with each thrash of her body.
With a giggle, Mona flicked her wrist again and Mary now pressed both hands against her useless eyes as blood and viscous fluid oozed through her fingers. Through shrieks so shrill and loud that they seemed to rip at her vocal chords, Mary could barely hear Mona’s voice. It was a lilting sing-song that drifted in and out of the searing pain that burned in her eyes.
“I spy, with my little eye, something that is red….”
Mona laid the X-acto knife on the wooden mantle above the fireplace and paced around the old woman’s body. Mary had fallen entirely to the floor now with her knees pulled practically up to her chest. She rolled back and forth and smacked her head against the floor as if she could somehow beat the agony out of her own face. With every thud, droplets of blood flung from her gore covered hands and the old woman’s voice now sounded thin and raspy as she screamed, as if her voice were beginning to give out.
“You fucked with the wrong people this time, old woman. We were going to let you live. Because you helped us. Can you believe that? We were really going to let you live.”
Mona inspected the wrought iron tools that jutted out of a brass vase near the edge of the fireplace. Picking up what looked like a miniature hoe, she turned it over in her hands like an antique expert examining a rare piece.
“But now look at you. Oops…”
Mona turned her head and giggled again as she returned the fireplace tool to the fold.
“I forgot. You can’t look, can you? What’s the matter, Mary? Got something in your eyes?”
Selecting another tool from the cluster, Mona smiled. This one was long and slender with a spear-like tip. Just before the end, a nasty little hook curved away from the black metal and something about it reminded her of a hornet’s stinger. She lifted the tool up and down, as if testing its weight, and cleared the bangs from her eyes with a shake of the head.
“Bitch.”
Mary’s voice was nothing more than a hiss between clenched teeth and the tightening of muscles required for talking sent fresh spasms of pain tearing through her eyes. The word, however, caused the cold grin to fade from Mona’s mouth and her lips pursed as her pupils dialated.
“Now, that’s not very nice.”
She swung the fire poker like a golf pro and the metal whacked against Mary’s side with a thud. The old woman howled in pain and pulled herself into an even tighter ball as she struggled to make herself as small of a target as possible.
“Lots of people used to call me that.”
The poker whooshed through the air again and there was a sharp crack as ribs splintered at the point of impact.
“No one calls me that anymore.”
Mona swung again and the little hook at the end of the poker snagged Mary’s dress. It ripped through the fabric as easily as the Exacto had her eye, leaving a long ribbon that fluttered like a banner from the end of the tool.
“No one!”
With the next swing, the hook tore through exposed skin, leaving a short gash that quickly welled with blood. Mary was howling now and she tried to inch away from the younger woman like a worm, but Mona followed quickly, swinging the poker again and again. The flat smacking noise of iron on flesh was as steady as the beat of a bass drum and the old woman’s skin had begun to swell with green and purple bruises.
“No… please… stop….”
Clenching a handful of gray hair, Mona snatched the old woman back so viscously that clumps of scalp were still attached to the wisps of hair in her fist when she finally let go. The old woman fell backward and thudded against the floor and Mona pounced upon her before she had a chance to roll over again. With her knees pinning Mary’s shoulder blades, Mona looked at the blood and pus-like fluid that streaked her wrinkled face.
“Why Grandma,” she gasped, “what big eyes you have….”
The younger woman formed a circle with her index finger and thumb as if she were signaling that everything was going to be okay. Leaning forward, however, she flicked her fingernail against the pulpy hemorrhage that bulged from Mary’s tortured eye socket. Fresh screams undulated as the old woman thrashed her head as if vigorously saying no and Mona winced with each ear-piercing screech
“And what a big fucking mouth you have, too.”
Snatching something that looked like a small shovel from the vase of tools, Mona plunged its flat head into the cinders. When she drew it out again, a mound of flickering coals was piled onto the little shovel and she watched for a second as the yellow and red glow pulsed like slow motion strobe lights.
“Maybe this will shut you up.”
Mona tilted the shovel and the embers fell like a shower of sparks into Mary’s open mouth. They hissed like snakes as spit instantly evaporated and curls of smoke carried the stench of burnt flesh from the old woman’s mouth. Her lips were blistered and swollen and she half-spar, half-coughed the nuggets of fire onto the living room floor.
Standing, Mona walked to the sofa and plopped down. She watched as the old lady pulled herself blindly across the room and occasionally laughed when Mary’s arms gave out and caused her to collapse to the floor. She whimpered as she crawled and Mona imagined the singed lining of her throat slowly closing up as the damaged flesh swelled. How long would it take before the airway was completely closed? Five minutes? Ten?
The old woman had drug her sorry carcass almost entirely out of the living room by the time Mona grew bored and began thumbing threw the pages of a catalog. While the younger woman looked at pictures of gardening tools and seeds, Mary continued to pull herself along. Her voice was nothing more than a wheeze now and a series of bloody hand prints marked her trail. Reaching out into the darkness that had become her world, her shaking hands felt fabric. She gripped it tightly and began to pull herself up, thinking that if she could just manage to walk maybe she could make it to the kitchen. Maybe she could somehow figure out how to dial 911. Though she wouldn’t be able to talk, they would trace the call and….
A pair of strong hands cupped her armpits and lifted her to her feet. She felt like crying as her unseen Samaritan assisted her but the throbbing masses that were her eyes didn’t seem capable of producing tears anymore. Instead, she laid her cheek against the broad, solid chest and allowed her weight to fall forward, trusting this man to continue giving support.