Run run as fast as you can (Emma Frost #3) Page 13

"Then scream all you want," Ellen said. "I don't care. Don't you understand he is sick?"

  "That I can agree with. He is a sick bastard who deserves to be punished," the husband said, lifted his clenched fist, and slammed it into Thomas' face.

  Thomas screamed in pain. Ellen yelled.

  "Stop it. Stop it, Mads. I won't let you beat him anymore. There are other ways to do this."

  "Is that so?" The husband said. "Like what?"

  Ellen kneeled next to Thomas. He felt her touch his cheek gently. It felt so soothing. He closed his eyes and enjoyed her touch. She wiped off some blood, then looked at him. Oh how Thomas had dreamt of this moment for so long.

  This is it. It's finally here. The moment when Ellen tells you she loves you. Finally, she is going to let her husband know who her heart really belongs to. Finally, your time has come.

  "Thomas?" Ellen said with such a gentle voice it almost made Thomas cry. "Thomas Hamilton, that's your name, right?"

  Thomas was in pain but nodded anyway.

  "Alright Thomas. Now listen to me …"

  This is it. This is the moment in all the movies when the hero finally gets the girl, when she says the words he has longed to hear.

  Ellen had tears in her eyes as she looked at him. It moved him deeply. "Thomas …" she hesitated like she needed to find the courage. "For years and years now I have feared you. For years I thought you were harassing me and my family, but lately I have come to realize that you're not a bad person, Thomas. You're just a little confused. You believe I love you, but I really don't. I have a husband and a family and I don't love you. I really don't. I hardly know you. You must realize now that you can't have me … ever. You'll never be with me. Do you understand that Thomas? Do you?"

  She might as well have beaten Thomas up herself. At that instant, he would have preferred that to this. It would have hurt less. Thomas moaned in pain and looked up at her.

  "But … But Ellen … I love you."

  "I know you think you do, Thomas. I've read so much about this type of behavior lately and I know that you think you love me, but you don't. It's an illusion, Thomas. It's not real."

  "But we have so much together …" Thomas said, his voice shivering.

  Ellen shook her head while Thomas sat up. He couldn't believe what she had just said. It was so painful; he couldn't understand how she could be so heartless.

  "No, Thomas. We don't. We don't have anything together. What we have is not real. It's in your head. And I'm sorry that you have to go through this to understand it, but I have to tell you the truth. I have to be honest with you. I don't love you, Thomas. I don't. I love my husband. I love Mads and you need to understand that. You need to leave us alone."

  Thomas got to his feet. Blood was running from his nose into his mouth. It tasted horrible.

  "I love you Ellen," he said again, hoping desperately that she would come to her senses and say the same to him.

  "What's this?" the husband said and pulled something out of Thomas' pocket. It was the underwear.

  The husband looked at the silky underwear, then at Ellen who gasped, appalled. "Still don't think he deserves a beating?"

  Ellen took the underwear while looking at Thomas with disgust. "Do what you want," she said, then left.

  "Ellen?" Thomas tried, while the husband picked up a rifle from the corner of the room.

  "I've been sleeping with this next to my bed for years now, expecting to one night catch you in my house and shoot you," the husband said, while cocking the rifle. "I guess no one will miss you, huh?"

  Thomas turned his head in search of a way out. Then, he jumped for the window smashing the glass as he went through. It hurt like hell as he landed on the ground, but still, he managed to get up and start running while the husband took aim with the rifle.

  "That's right, my friend," he yelled after him. "You better run. Run as fast as you can."

  44

  November 2013

  Lisa was running. She was pushing baby Margrethe while she was sleeping in her stroller. Lisa was panting, not because of the effort as much as because of the agitation she felt inside. That bastard. Did he really think he would get away with smearing her on TV like that?

  Not on my watch, Mister. You're in for quite the surprise.

  She had brought the carving fork. It was in her purse as she stormed across town pushing the stroller in front of her. Lisa was angry. No, she was beyond that. She was fuming, furious, on the verge of desperate. She was sweating and freezing all at once. The cold wind was hurting her cheeks, biting them, but she hardly noticed. Usually, she would be very anxious and make sure to protect her skin properly when outside in the wind, but not today.

  Lisa ran around a corner, almost bumped into a man, cursed at him like a sailor, and continued. She spotted the building where Per Egon worked as a librarian. She didn't stop so she wouldn’t seem suspicious; no, she ran even faster now that she could see the library building in front of her. The doors slid open and she stormed inside.

  A short, fat woman with messy hair was sitting behind a counter. She stared at Lisa with wide-open eyes. "Can I help you?"

  "Where is he?" Lisa asked, still panting.

  "Who?" The woman asked.

  Pathetic little midget. Who do you think I'm talking about?

  "Per Egon. I need to see him," Lisa answered. "I have a very important matter to discuss with him."

  "Ah, now I know where I’ve seen you before," the midget said. "You're that woman who is running for City Council. I recognize you from the poster. Between you and me, I'm happy that you're running. We need more women in charge around here instead of all those old men."

  Lisa forced her election-smile to appear. "Yes, yes that's me. So where is he? Could you please be a dear and tell me where he is?"

  The midget smiled. "Yeah, sure. He's in the back."

  Lisa kept the smile on her lips. "Well thank you so much. Now don't forget to vote." She pushed the stroller in between the rows of books that soon hid her completely. It was a huge library, much to her surprise.

  She found Per Egon all the way at the end. He was on a ladder, putting books back on the shelves. Lisa took in a deep breath to try and calm herself down.

  "What do you want?" he asked without even looking at her. "Have you come to announce your withdrawal from the election?"

  Lisa felt her cheeks burning. If it was the anger or the meeting with the sudden heat when she got inside from the cold, she didn't know.

  "I most certainly am not withdrawing from anything," she snorted. "If you think you can scare me with your little lies, then you have another thing coming."

  Per Egon turned his head and looked at Lisa. Then he smiled. "Lies? That wasn't a lie. Facts don't lie. You never passed that exam."

  Lisa shrugged. "So what?"

  "So you're a liar."

  "I'll just pass it at another time, what's it to you?"

  Per Egon stared at Lisa like she was from Mars. "What are you talking about? You can't get elected if you lie to people."

  Lisa scoffed again. "I really can't see why that should be a problem. Politicians lie all the time. It doesn't mean anything. I can still do a lot of good for this city and get it cleaned up."

  Per Egon laughed, then climbed down the ladder with a book in his hand. Lisa let go of the stroller and put her hand in her purse. She caressed the carving fork inside of it with her fingers.

  "Sweetie, if the public can't trust you they won't elect you. It's that simple," Per Egon said, talking to her like she was a complete idiot. He walked closer to her than she cared for and stuck his face very close to hers. He was spitting while he spoke, his breath smelled like cheese and coffee. "They deserve to know the truth. That much I owe them. I'm sorry, but after this, I don't see how anyone would vote for you. Do you? Do you see it Lisa? Why would anyone vote for you?"

  "Because I'm the only one LEFT!" Lisa exclaimed, then pulled out the carving fork and plunged it into Per Egon's chest, pressing it i
n as deeply as she could, trying to make sure it hit something vital, preferably his heart.

  45

  November 2013

  I was still worried about Lisa when I got back to the house. Sophia jumped out of her chair when I opened the door to the kitchen. She had baby Alma on her hip.

  "How did it go?" she asked, and sat down with Alma in her lap.

  I shrugged and sat down. "She sure is something, that Lisa."

  "Yeah, I know," Sophia said, and shook her head. "She is not altogether there. I have been wondering about her. If she is mentally well, you know?"

  "I know. But I told her to come here with her family later on. Now, we'll just have to see if she’ll do it or not. At least we did what we could."

  "That's true."

  "Any news here?" I asked, and looked around. I could hear Sophia's kids in the living room playing.

  Sophia shrugged. "Don't look at me. I'm hiding in here," she chuckled. "They came back fifteen minutes ago. My mom just threw them out and drove away in a hurry. I hope they won't tear your house apart."

  "And where are Victor and Maya?" I asked.

  "Maya is in the living room with the young ones. Victor stormed upstairs as soon as the little ones came into the yard. I don't think he’s come down."

  "Probably won't. Do you think your kids are hungry? I can easily bake something if you'd like."

  Sophia exhaled. "That would be great. I bet they're starving and I have to feed the little one."

  "Sure. No problem," I said.

  Sophia made some porridge for Alma and fed her a couple of spoonfuls, which she spat out again, before she finally gave her a bottle of milk. I took out the dough I had prepared earlier and rolled it into buns that I placed in the oven.

  "They'll be ready in half an hour. I'll go check on Victor," I said and trotted upstairs. I knocked on Victor's door and, when he didn't answer, I walked right in. He was sitting on the floor with his back against the wall, holding his hands to his ears, rocking back and forth. I felt a pinch in my stomach. I had forgotten to consider him when inviting all these people into our house. I kneeled next to him.

  "Victor, sweetie?"

  He looked at me. "There is a reason why the word noise means unwanted sound," he said. "According to the dictionary it's a sound that is loud, unpleasant, unexpected, or undesired."

  "I know it's very unpleasant for you Victor, but what do you want me to do? Sophia is scared out of her mind because of this killer who wants to kill her and the other women from her mothers’ group. The police are up to their ears in work and can't protect these women. I had to help them somehow. Especially Sophia, who is like family to us."

  "Are you telling me there will be more?" Victor asked.

  I exhaled with a smile. "Yes, sweetie. There might be another family coming. They only have three kids, as far as I am told."

  "I'm not sharing my room with them. They should go to a hotel. This is not a hotel. This is a house. The permissible exposure limit for noise is ninety decibels, as an eight-hour, time-weighted average. In the living room downstairs, it is at least a hundred-and-ten and no one should be exposed to that amount of noise for more than a minute and twenty-nine seconds without any form of protection. You should read the Labor Inspectorate's home page."

  I looked at my son. His ears were truly sensitive. Come to think of it, he had always been highly sensitive to loud sounds and I wondered if it had any connection to the fact that he could hear the bats so well.

  "You just gave me an idea," I said and got up. I walked across the street and knocked on Jack's door. He smiled when he opened the door.

  "What a pleasant surprise."

  I blushed. I knew he liked me and I liked him too. Then I remembered Morten and shook it off. I didn't want to complicate things.

  "Hi. Listen, I know you have hearing protection lying around in your studio. I saw them the last time I was out there."

  "Yeah, I use them when I sometimes work as a construction worker to earn a little extra money.

  "Could I borrow them for my son?"

  46

  March 2013

  The handsome husband had only hit him once. Thomas had been shot in the shoulder, but luckily, it was just a cut. No bullet had entered in his body as he ran across the dirt roads and through the forest. Not that the handsome husband hadn't wanted to shoot him. He had fired several shots, but luckily for Thomas, he wasn't a very good shot. Some of the bullets had hid tree trunks next to him and most of them had ended up in the dirt behind him. Thomas had managed to jump into his car and drive off.

  Now, a couple of weeks later, he was back, hiding outside of Ellen's house, watching her through the open window. She was getting ready to go out. She had a lunch date in town with an old girlfriend who she hadn't seen in a long while. Ellen was whistling while putting on make-up. Not that she ever needed it, Thomas thought to himself while studying her with a smile.

  His shoulder hurt now and then, especially when he tried to move it, but not as much as his heart was hurting from her rejection.

  How could you betray me like this Ellen? How could you say those words when you know how deep our love is?

  After the incident, Thomas had driven to the beach with the intent of killing himself. Just bringing an end to all of the suffering inside of him. He sat behind the wheel and cried for hours, hearing Ellen's harsh words in his head over and over again.

  "I don't love you, Thomas. It's not real. It's all in your head. I love my husband. It's just an illusion."

  How could you say those horrible things, Ellen? How could you hurt me so deeply? Me, who has loved you since the first time I ever laid eyes on you. Don't you know we're meant to be?

  While sitting in his car on the beach, Thomas had realized he didn't want to kill himself. No, he wasn't the one who should be punished for this. He wasn't the bad guy. They were. They both were. Ellen and that husband of hers. Oh how it enraged him to think about them. But mostly her. She was the one who had hurt him the most. She was the one who had said those horrible things to him.

  So Thomas returned to doing what he had done for the last seven years, nonstop. He resumed following Ellen wherever she went. In his anger, he dreamt about making her suffer the way he had suffered. He fantasized about kidnapping her and keeping her locked up somewhere. He could make her love him again. He knew he could. If not, then there was no way around it. If he couldn't have her, then no one should.

  Ellen was humming as she got up from the make-up table. Her husband entered the bedroom and kissed her on the cheek. They laughed. Thomas felt his blood boil.

  "I can't tell you how much freer I feel since you got rid of him, Mads. I am so grateful. I feel liberated after many years in captivity, constantly worrying about him and what he was going to come up with next. Now I can just live my life. I can go into town without constantly looking in my mirrors to see if he is following me. I don't have to fear walking the streets alone. I'm finally free."

  "He will never bother you again," the husband said. "I promise you that much. He is out of here. I gave him a lesson he will never forget. You never have to worry about him again."

  "Thank you so much, Mads," she said with a deep sigh. "I was against the use of force on him, but I'm beginning to think you were right. It's the only language that type of person understands."

  The skin on Thomas' arm was crumbling. He felt like screaming hearing them talk like this.

  Calm down. You'll get your revenge. Don't you worry.

  Thomas giggled and held a hand over his mouth so they wouldn't hear it. Then he heard the doorbell and opened his eyes wide.

  Showtime.

  He listened as Ellen walked towards the front door and opened it. Thomas heard Ellen scream and found it hard not to laugh.

  "What's the matter, sweetie?" the husband yelled. Then Thomas heard the sound of his boots on the floor as he ran to the door to see why his wife was screaming. Thomas dared to lift his head enough to be able to see them
through the open door. Ellen was standing in the doorway bent over the package that had been delivered to her. She was crying, holding a hand to her mouth.

  You're a genius, Thomas. Sending them an empty coffin was brilliant.

  He looked at Ellen who was holding his note in her hand. The note that said the, between them, so familiar words.

  Till death parts us.

  47

  November 2013

  Lisa locked Per Egon into a small closet in the back of the library, then took the back door out. She ran with the stroller back to her house where she took a shower and washed the blood off of her hands, packed an overnight bag, and called Christian to tell him what was happening.

  "Do you mean to tell me we're going to spend the night at some stranger's house?" Christian sighed.

  "Well the police seem to think we need the protection," Lisa said, while Margrethe was fussing on her hip. "I need to feed Margrethe soon. I really don't have time for this, Christian. Just grab Amalie and Jacob and bring them over there will you?"

  Christian sighed. He was probably rubbing his eyebrows like he always did when he was concerned or troubled.

  "You really think that’s a good idea? I have a game I wanted to watch tonight. I was really looking forward to it."

  "Well maybe you could skip that for once, huh? I mean your wife's life is in danger so maybe … just MAYBE you could skip one game, huh? You think?"

  "Alright, alright. Don't have a fit here. I'll be there and I’ll bring the kids."

  Lisa hung up, then grabbed baby Margrethe and started feeding her the bottle. After half an hour, she packed her car with the baby and bags and drove off.

  The woman called Emma lived close to the beach at a great location, worth a lot of money. The house was big, but very old. The yard hadn't been taken care of for ages and looked like one big mess. Lisa sighed and helped Margrethe out of her car-seat. A police car was parked next to hers. The two officers inside of it followed her with their eyes. One of them got out when she had finally gotten Margrethe out and grabbed one of the bags from the car.