When Houses Burn

by Laurèn Lee

  “Bingo!”

  “Why did you confess at all? Why didn’t you have other evidence planted in the first place?”

  “Well that wouldn’t have been any fun, would it?”

  “You’re telling me, you purposely put yourself in a situation where you could potentially have been sent to prison?”

  “Yeah, why not?”

  “You know, Lucas? Being with you sometimes makes me feel like I’m not as crazy as I think I am.”

  “We’re a great pair, huh?

  Changing the subject, “Even if James hasn’t called the police yet, it doesn’t mean he won’t call them, though.”

  “Well, there’s a way we can easily fix that.”

  “How? We put duct tape across his mouth forever? Tie his hands behind his back until he’s too old to move?”

  “No, no. We could kill him.”

  51

  Present

  My wine glass shattered in my hand causing shards to cut me thoroughly. Wine and blood dripped from my hand and stained the white, shag carpet below me.

  “Here, let me,” Lucas offered. He grabbed a hot, damp towel from the downstairs bathroom and brought it over to me. First, making sure to remove any shards of glass in my hand.

  I was speechless, but I let him take care of me. The hot towel stung but helped ease some of the sharp pain caused by my squeezing the glass so violently in a state of shock.

  Lucas looked down to my hand and tenderly took care of it. We both noticed at the same time, though, a small piece of glass still pierced my skin near my pinky finger. He brought my hand up to his face to further examine the miniature wound. And then, he pulled me even closer, and slowly licked the oozing blood off my hand. His eyes lit up in an odd fashion.

  “All better?” he asked.

  “I think so,” I quivered.

  “So, what do you think?”

  “About what?”

  “Well, should we kill James, or what?”

  If I’d had another glass in my hand, I would’ve squeezed it all the same. Shock punched me in the gut, and I couldn’t believe what Lucas was offering.

  “Lucas, we can’t kill my husband!”

  “But, you said yourself, he may call the police. And then what would you do?”

  “I… I don’t know. I suppose I’d figure it out if the time came.”

  “Or, you could be proactive and eliminate the threat before it threatens you.”

  Was James, my husband, a threat? Did I truly have to fear him turning me into the police? My phone was still off, so I had no idea what kind of state his mind was in at this very moment. For all I knew, he could be at home, patiently waiting for me so we could talk rationally about what he’d discovered.

  “We can’t, Lucas. We just can’t.”

  “Fine, fine. Not a problem. Would you like my lawyer’s card in case you need legal assistance, then?”

  It was happening again; I felt Lucas was taking a wrench and spinning the screws within my head. He was trying to assert total control of my mind and influence my future actions. How could I stop him from manipulating me? Could I stop him?

  “Lucas, please. Think about this. If James ends up missing or dead, the blame would naturally be put on me! Who else would have motive like mine? Killing him would essentially be committing suicide.”

  “Not, if you cover all your tracks,” he winked.

  I’d never felt so torn in my entire life. Here I was, my lover trying to convince me to kill my husband. But why? What did Lucas get out of all this? He had no bad blood with James. Did he just want to use me as an instrument to commit more murder? Was I his vessel to take another’s life? I’d already paved a path for him to kill Helena, was I doing the same with James?

  “Has Detective Boucher called you?”

  “No, I haven’t heard from him.”

  “Good, so that means James hasn’t called the police.”

  “Yet,” he reminded me.

  This was going too far. I never wanted to kill Helena in the first place. I couldn’t let James fall victim to my spider-web of deception, too. He may have made some mistakes, and he was far from being a perfect husband, but did that mean he deserved to die? I had enough trouble trying to cover my tracks with Helena, and I didn't think I’d be able to do the same if he murdered James as well. I wasn’t strong enough, or clever enough. I wasn’t enough like Lucas to keep killing.

  “I think I need to go home and talk to James,” I said.

  “Do you think that’s best right now?”

  “I need to face him sooner rather than later. Waiting will only make matters worse. I owe him a conversation.”

  “Do you, Delilah? Do you owe that man anything?”

  “He’s my husband, Lucas. Whether or not you believe in them, we took vows. ‘For better or for worse.’ This is the worst.”

  “Did you think back to your vows when he beat you? Did he hold onto your vows when he took another woman to bed and put a baby inside her? Vows mean nothing. Your vows were broken a long time ago. Why put them on a pedestal now?”

  He had a point. Our vows had been broken for a long time. Did I still need to uphold my side of the bargain? Did I owe James anything at this point?

  No, don’t let him do this to you, Delilah.

  “Lucas, I can’t. I can’t take another life. It’s not right.”

  “It's not fair James put you in this position in the first place.”

  I had to go right away. I needed to go before I succumbed to Lucas’ suggestion and killed my husband. Everything would work out okay, right?

  “I’m leaving, Lucas. I need to go home.”

  “You’re making a mistake.”

  “Taking another life would be a mistake. If he calls the police, then so be it. I should pay for my part in all this.”

  “And what about my part? Will you make sure I have to pay, too?”

  “Taking responsibility for my actions doesn’t include taking you down with me. I promise.”

  He nodded, but I wasn’t entirely sure if he believed me or not.

  “I’ll let you know what happens after I get home, okay?”

  “Sure, that sounds good.”

  And so, I left Lucas’ mansion with my hand wrapped, still bleeding, and headed home to meet my fate. I needed to go back and finally face James.

  52

  Present

  Driving home, my hands shook with anticipation and dread. I had no idea what would be waiting for me when I got home. Would James be furious with me? Would he just want answers? I had absolutely no confidence in what I would find once I walked through the door.

  I pulled into our driveway and noticed James’ car was there, too.

  He’s home. You can do this. Just explain the earrings were a gift. Or, maybe Helena gave them back to you during the lunch because she felt guilty. Yeah, that might work!

  Dusk had fallen, and I struggled to find my house keys in the dark as I approached our front door. Luckily, the door was unlocked. I took a deep breath and walked into our house.

  “James?” I called out hesitantly.

  “In the kitchen,” he replied evenly.

  You can do this. Everything will be okay. Just keep your cool.

  I walked into the kitchen slowly, bracing myself for whatever was to come. James was sitting at the kitchen table, his hands folded tightly.

  “Hi,” I whispered.

  “Hello.”

  “Can we talk?”

  “Yes, I’ve been waiting for you to come home so we could talk.”

  “Sorry I ran,” I began as I sat down across from him. “I was scared.”

  “Of?” he asked as he looked up. His eyes were bloodshot, and a vein in his forehead protruded seriously.

  “I didn’t think you’d understand what had happened.”

  “Then, enlighten me. Please.”

  “The earrings… Helena gave them to me when we met for lunch at the coffee shop. She said she felt guilty for having such a
n expensive gift from you.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you couldn’t have explained this to me in the cemetery?”

  “Like I said, I was scared,” I replied, lowering my head.

  “So, you want me to believe, Helena just happened to hand over earrings worth thousands of dollars because she felt guilty?”

  “That’s what happened,” I shrugged.

  “And you thought you’d wear them, why? To taunt me? To show off?”

  “I didn’t think you’d notice,” I stuttered.

  “You thought wrong, Delilah. I noticed. Why wouldn’t I notice? Those were the earrings I had meticulously picked out for the mother of my child.”

  “I’m sorry. I should have told you she’d given them back to me.”

  “Liar!” he shouted slamming his fists on the table.

  My pulse quickened, and my breathing hastened. I wasn’t convincing him, I was holding onto a sinking ship.

  “I’m not lying!” I cried.

  “Helena would’ve never given them away. She loved those earrings. She wore them every single day.”

  I stood to match James’ height, “Maybe guilt finally found its way into her head. Maybe living a lie became too much for her!”

  “Or, maybe, just maybe, you took them from her before you killed her,” he accused, hate seething from his tongue.

  “I didn’t kill her, James,” I said, which technically wasn’t a lie.

  He started laughing, a deep hearty howl, deep from within his belly.

  “I didn’t kill anyone!”

  “I can’t believe I didn’t see this all along. The entire time she was missing, you were so cool, calm and collected. How did I not see this?”

  “Because there was nothing to see. How should I have acted? Your fucking mistress carrying your child disappeared. I should have had a party, but instead, I tried to stay positive for you.”

  “Quite the saint you are,” he said, walking around the table toward me. “Little, miss perfect, Delilah. You would never do anything bad, would you?”

  I backed away slowly as I saw the familiar glint in his eyes return. It was the same look he had when violence was on his mind.

  “Don’t think I don’t know what you’ve been up to, my darling bride.”

  “What are you talking about?” I asked as he had me pinned up against the kitchen wall.

  “I’ve seen the bite marks on your neck and back. I know you haven’t been incredibly faithful, either.”

  “You’re imagining things, James. You’re distressed. Your mind is playing tricks on you.”

  “The only tricks being played are the ones you have up your sleeve. I may be a shitty husband, but I’m not blind, and I’m not stupid.”

  “You’re not thinking clearly, James. Please sit down, so we can talk about this.”

  “I’m done talking, Delilah!” he boomed. “The talking is over with.”

  “Fine. Then let me go to bed, it’s been a long day.”

  “Oh, I’m sure it has. Did you visit your lover when you left the cemetery? Did you let him fuck you? Or, maybe you two just had a grand ‘ol laugh about killing Helena!”

  “You’re delusional. Seriously, you need help. Now, get away from me and let me go upstairs,” I tried pushing him away, but he stood before me like a statue.

  “You think you’re so smart. You probably thought you’d get away with it, huh? I know you killed Helena and I know you killed my unborn child. You’re not going to get away with this.”

  “I’m not trying to get away with anything, James. Please, I’m begging you. Let me go!”

  He laughed again in my face, “Well, if you didn't kill her, then who did?”

  “I killed her. It was me, not Delilah.”

  Both James and I whipped our heads and saw Lucas standing there, one hand holding a box of matches, another hand holding a red container filled with gasoline.

  53

  Present

  “Who the fuck are you?” James bellowed.

  “I’m Lucas. The man who’s been sleeping with your wife. It’s a pleasure to meet you finally.”

  James looked from me to Lucas and rage plastered his face. The tension in the room was palpable and noticing what Lucas had brought with him nearly caused my heart to arrest.

  “You killed my Helena?” James asked slowly through gritted teeth.

  “Oh, yes. She squealed like a little whore pig right before she died,” Lucas sneered.

  James leapt for him. His arms stretched out to take hold of his prey, “You son of a bitch!”

  I screamed at the top of my lungs as Lucas dodged James’ attack. I thought things couldn’t get any worse, and I was wrong, so entirely wrong.

  “Stop! Please!” I shrieked.

  Neither man heard or acknowledged I was still in the room. Lucas had tossed aside the gasoline and matches and put his closed fists up as though to prepare for a boxing match. I could almost see the steam coming from James’ ears, and he followed suit.

  The men circled each other, lightly on their toes, pushing away various pieces of kitchen furniture. I wanted to call the police, but what would I say? Please come and stop my lover from killing my husband who just found out my lover killed his mistress? My head spun at the idea. No, I couldn’t call the police for help, I couldn’t call anyone for help.

  Lucas landed a punch against James, right in his nose, causing him to stumble backward. I began to cry, helplessly. I had no idea what to do except watch and hope they didn’t kill each other.

  “I’m going to bash your fucking brains in,” James spat.

  “I’d love to see you try. What are you waiting for?” Lucas smiled playfully.

  James lunged toward Lucas again, but he dodged it with ease. James tumbled over the kitchen table and landed onto the floor with a hard thud.

  James finally stood and regained his balance, “Delilah, call the police!”

  Lucas looked at me from the corner of his eye, “Don’t, Delilah. Don’t call the police.”

  “Do it!” James ordered as he wiped away the blood from his nose.

  I cried harder, and the tears blurred my vision. I could barely see the men punching and dodging. Just then, Lucas kicked James in the stomach, causing him to howl out in pain and clench his abdomen. James fell to the floor, out of breath and wounded. I nearly went over to him to see if he was okay, but Lucas stepped closer and closer to him.

  “Do you want to hear how I killed her? Do you want to know how I dismembered her before tossing her lifeless body in the river?”

  “Shut up!” James roared, too weak to stand up.

  “She begged for me to stop, but I just kept going,” Lucas chided.

  I knew he was lying, just trying to goat James into a reaction. I knew her death had been instantaneous and she most likely felt no pain. However, I didn’t open my mouth to contradict Lucas. The fire in his eyes terrified me. I’d never seen him like this and I didn’t want him to turn on me.

  “You’re an evil bastard! Get out of my house!” James begged, unable to breathe.

  “She told me all about you before she died. She told me it was a mistake being with you, that you were a useless coward and she was embarrassed by you.”

  “No, stop!” James cried.

  “She was going to leave you, James. She was going to take the baby and run and never let you see either of them again,” Lucas spat in his face.

  James began to sob, and my heart ached for him. I had brought this upon him; it was because of me Helena, and their child were dead. It was because of me Lucas was torturing him, beating him into submission.

  “Delilah, please help me,” James begged, turning to me.

  “Stay where you are,” Lucas warned. I didn’t move an inch.

  “What are you going to do to him?” I asked Lucas carefully.

  “I’m going to do what you should have done in the first place,” he replied maliciously.

&nbs
p; “Delilah, please. What is he talking about? Help me! Call the police!”

  Lucas turned to look at me, threatening me with his gaze. I knew better than to move, I knew better than to pick up the phone.

  “Delilah!” James screamed.

  In the next instant, Lucas kicked James in the belly, causing him to cry out in pain; fat tears leaked down his face.

  “You’re a coward, James. You couldn’t take care of Delilah, and you couldn’t protect Helena or the baby. You’re pathetic.” He kicked him twice more despite James being curled up in the fetal position in the corner of the kitchen.

  I wanted to ask Lucas to stop. This was cruel and inhumane. I wanted it all to end.

  Lucas walked away from James and approached me, with his hand out for me to take. I grasped his hand with mine and let him pull me over to where James cowered in the corner. Lucas stood behind me, his arms wrapped around my body and he whispered into my ear, “It’s your turn. Show him how much he hurt you. Induce the pain he had made you feel for all these years. Teach him a lesson, Delilah.”

  Tears ran down my cheeks, too. “I can’t.”

  “Yes, you can. I believe in you,” Lucas urged letting his lips brush against my ear sending chills down my spine.

  James continued to sob, calling my name.

  “Do it, show him how it felt when he cheated on you. Give him a taste of his own medicine.”

  I felt like a predator about to hurt an innocent duckling. This wasn’t a level playing field, but if I didn’t obey Lucas, who knew what he’d do to me in return.

  “What do I do?” I asked, barely audible.

  Lucas pulled something out of his back pocket; it was a knife.

  “Break his heart like when he broke yours.”

  I took the knife in my hands and felt my stomach drop. Tears continued to fall off my cheeks onto the floor.

  “Do it,” Lucas said louder. “Do it!”

  James looked up at me, and I saw pure fear in his eyes.

  “I’m sorry, James. I’m so sorry!”

  I bent over to get a closer angle and closed my eyes as my husband’s screams filled my ears and echoed against the walls of our home.