A Christmas Eve Nightmare
It was the eve of my due date, and my
husband’s nemesis had broken into our house
for revenge. I was sliced open, my baby
ripped from my womb. And yet, I refused to
call my husband, Mark, for help.
Last time, in my frantic, terrified pleas, he’d
abandoned his charity student, Wendy, who
he was supposed to spend Christmas with,
just to rush home. Wendy ended up dead, a victim of a date rape drug overdose after
being picked up at a bar that night. Then
Mark, fueled by rage, had locked me in the
dog kennel, letting the animals tear me apart. “You killed Wendy!” he’d screamed. “Now
you’ll feel her pain!”
Now, back in this moment. I decided he could
く
enjoy his romantic Christmas Eve with Wendy.
But when he came home, he’d completely lost
- it.
I woke up in a cold sweat, a gasp escaping
my lips as I checked the date on my phone.
The downstairs was pitch black, but I could
hear the faintest rustling. I was about to lock
the bedroom door when our housekeeper,
Betty, boomed out.
“Honey, I made you some chicken soup. You
drink that before bed, okay?” She practically
forced the door open, squeezing her way in.
“Mark said you’ve been picky lately. He told
me to keep an eye on you, so you better
listen up.
<
Her usual, folksy smile sent chills down my
spine. Last time, the chicken soup Betty had
given me had knocked me out cold. I’d woken
up on the floor, my husband’s rival, Tony,
standing over me while talking on the phone,
Betty nowhere in sight. I had barely made it to
the bathroom, locked the door and frantically
dialed Mark from my smart watch.
But this time, I wasn’t going to be a sitting
duck.
Betty stood in the doorway, not letting up
until I drank the soup. Ten months pregnant, I
wasn’t about to get into a physical fight with
her. “Betty, my stomach’s upset. Just leave it
there, okay?”
She turned and left, and I was unlocking my
phone to call 911. Betty’s face appeared in
く
the doorway, contorted in anger. She
snatched my phone, her eyebrows furrowed.
“Who are you calling?” she snarled. “Planning
to tattle to Mark and make him come home?”
“He’s hosting a Christmas Eve party for
Wendy, so you should be a good little girl and not make a scene!” She threw my phone from
the balcony, and I automatically knew Betty
was up to no good. Grabbing her wrist, I knew
I needed to play it smart.
“Betty, someone broke in. Give me your
phone, I need to call the cops.
Betty’s expression flickered, and she forced a
smile. “Don’t be silly, the place is wired with
security cameras. No one’s broken in.” She
then grabbed my shoulders and started
pushing me toward the stairs, ignoring how I
<
was cradling my bump.
I hadn’t managed to put on my smartwatch,
and could only desperately try to warn her.
“Betty, don’t go downstairs! I’m the
homeowner, you need to listen to me!”
At that, her lips curved into a sinister smile.
“Mark is the owner of this place, and I’m
bringing you downstairs so you can calm
down. Or, maybe you’re just trying to bring
Mark home. Wendy may be a student that he sponsors, but she’s beautiful and smart,
they’re perfect together. If you were to lose your wife status, what would you be then?”
When I got pregnant, Mark had hired Betty to
take care of me. She had always seemed
practical and hardworking. But, when Wendy
was at our house, she was suddenly over the
<
top friendly. I’d even caught her slipping my
supplements into Wendy’s bag. And more
than once, she’d made a table full of spicy
food, ignoring my bland diet because it’s
what Wendy liked. When I confronted her,
she’d just acted the victim: “Wendy’s family
is so poor, so I thought I’d take care of her.
You gotta be a good person for your baby’s
sake.” Mark had even backed her up, saying
that I wasn’t as good–natured as Wendy, just
a jealous wife. Thinking back, her love for
Wendy was totally out of the blue, which now
made me fear the worst. Betty thought I was
beneath Mark, and eliminating me would
make it possible for Wendy to replace me!
I grabbed the stair railing with all my strength,
despite my nails breaking and bleeding. Betty
nudged my back with impatience. “What’s
with all the theatrics? You always act like
く
something’s wrong.
I heard Tony’s ragged breathing get louder.
My heart was in my throat was I going to
fall into his trap after all?
Last time, Mark came home and saved me.
But, Wendy had gotten drunk at a bar and
passed out. She was then taken by a group of
thugs, and woke up the next day in a hotel.
She jumped from the roof. When I went to
mourn her, Mark held my head and made me
bang it onto the ground by her grave. He put
me in the dog kennel and locked me in,
making me watch as I was being torn apart.
“You killed Wendy, so you have to pay!”
“Why’d you have to call me home? Was Tony
really going to hurt you?”
<
“You hate that I like Wendy, you deserve to
die!”
