Dread crushed and crippled the elderly woman. The eyes piercing into her hadn’t changed over the decades; still sinister, controlling and ominous. Her nephew’s eyes held something far more frightening that she could not quite place. He smiled as he accused her of throwing him off of her trail intentionally. The words coming out of his mouth were meaningless because she knew the outcome of the situation. The phone dug into her back deeper when he stepped forward into the phone booth. She reached back and gripped the cold steel of the phone book container.
The metallic cord of the payphone was cold as it slid up her fingertips. She gripped the plastic phone, then cringed at the obvious sound of the dial tone. The dark snicker erupting from her nephew sent a chill down her spine. White hot fear coursed through her veins as he undid his belt buckle. Her fingernails bit into the palm of her hands when she swung the phone hard in the direction of his head. He caught her wrist, squeezed tightly and forced her to drop the makeshift weapon.
His eyes were filled with amusement. “Oh Aunt Gem. Did you really think that would work?”
Gem stared up in silent response.
He placed an arm against the back of the phone booth, then continued the task of removing his belt with his free hand. It made a soft, grating sound as it was pulled through the cotton loops of his dress pants. He snaked an arm around her neck, warm thick leather encased around her neck with a strange tenderness and the scent flooded her senses.
“You could have left well alone and lived.” He stroked her cheek with a cold hand.
Gem shrank away only to feel the belt’s clench tighter. The pressure increased and tingled around the secure hold. A pleasant dizziness settled in, moved up her neck and to her head. It built at her temples, blood cells sparked and gathered by her lips. Bones in her neck popped, though it was virtually painless combined with the tingling sensation sweeping and took over her senses. Gem struggled for air. The forced of the belt reached a fever pitch as she clawed at his chest in vain. She stared deep into his eyes, forgetting the little boy she’d once loved, but had felt the wickedness of even in childhood.
She realized precisely what his eyes held upon taking her last breath; remorse.
– – –
Note, this isn’t something I’ve really cleaned up. Sort of a random drabble I’d written back in December + not being used to anything in particular. I’ll write drabbles when I need to break my block.