The woman before her was hollow, unaware of the sunken dark skin beneath her eyes. Her once shimmering auburn hair had gone dull and shed more often than her dog, Butterscotch, whom she had reluctantly put down yesterday. She had no idea how to tell her son Tristen that the old girl had been reduced to dragging her body through the house with her front legs while the rest followed behind like a tattered wet mop. Butterscotch’s spinal cord had been diseased, her organs failing. The round-the-clock lament from the canine ALS had only added to Madison’s insomnia.

It was the right thing to do.

After giving herself this reassurance, she spat blood-streaked saliva into the basin and watched it creep toward the drain, wishing she could afford dental care. Some of the dribble landed on her daycare scrubs like bird droppings.

Just great.

She turned the faucet on. It sputtered and released three drops of water. Madison’s pulse quickened, her confusion mounting. The water had been on all morning. She rushed to the kitchen and pulled the lever. Nothing.

“No, No, No! This is bullshit. I paid!”

She grabbed her phone and swiped the screen. Her battery indicator blinked a warning: five percent. Damn it! She had planned to charge the phone at work since at home, she had no electricity. Just a few days to her next paycheck, and she could resolve the missed payments. Her nerves jittering as the battery indicator dropped to four percent, she called the water company on speakerphone while dipping out toilet water to wipe down her shirt.

“Canter Glenn Public Utility. May I help you?”

“Yes —I paid my bill online yesterday. I was on time, but you still disconnected my service.”

“I would be happy to look into that for you. Can you please give me your account number?”

“I do not know it. Can you look it up another way?”

“How about the social security number on file?”

“I don’t know Dan’s social. Give me a second to find the bill.”

Madison stopped wiping the stain off her shirt and walked to the dining table, where she shuffled through the stacks of bills, foreclosure warnings, and sales circulars. When she came across the divorce petition, she scoffed and threw it to the floor.

I am so sick of this. The loser didn’t pay a single bill before he ran off. Who leaves a woman while her kid is lying sick in the hospital with a glioma? So much for love and being ready to be “the best stepdad” ever. The first sign of real life and he ghosts us. Asshole!

She found the bill and gave the representative the necessary information, feeling hypnotized by the glowing clock on her phone. The battery indicator dropped to three percent. A rumble in her stomach broke the trance, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten since her last pack of ramen two days ago. She sighed.

“Ms. Evans, I found your payment, but you paid $283.79, and the total bill from your previous broken arrangements was $294.74 to prevent disconnection.”

Madison explained to the rep that she paid less because she did not have enough in her account to cover that amount plus the service charge fee. Desperate, she blurted out her life story. It made no difference. The representative told her there was nothing they could do and that she would need to pay the remaining amount due plus a $50 reconnection fee to get her water back on.

Where am I supposed to get $60.95?

In tears, Madison disconnected the call with two percent battery remaining. Full of sorrow and rage, she flipped the table and chairs over and stalked the dining room, pacing, wailing, and cursing. The cursing, it turned out, is what snapped her out of her fury. Since Tristen was born, she rarely cursed anymore and had surprised herself with the things she said. She composed herself, grabbed her keys, and stopped mid-stride.

Wait. My jar.

Madison ran to the hallway and pulled the cord that released the wooden ladder leading to the attic above. She climbed up the badly splintered rungs and carefully stepped over to the boxes that had been there since she moved in. Most of the things belonged to her late parents, but a few were from her college days —before she dropped out.

She opened the box marked Madison-Dorm. Digging through it, she found the gag gift her friends had given her for her birthday. It was a swear jar. She had cursed so much back then it could have qualified as a sport for her, and her friends filled it with coins during bets and drinking games until shortly before the end of her first semester, when she discovered she was pregnant.

Her baby’s father, who turned out to be all swagger, ghosted her. Even the friends who had gifted her the swear jar treated her like a person with leprosy. When she started showing, they avoided her and seemed relieved when she told them she was dropping out because the residence director was giving her a hard time. He would go on and on about loose morals, complaining about how the policy updates ruined everything. He said she didn’t belong in the dorms or the classrooms. They debated the antiquated ideas until uterine cramps alerted her that it just wasn’t worth the stress.

Madison shook her head, trying to break loose from these memories of the university, which always led to world-shattering flashbacks. Her parents had died in an accident on their way to pick her up from campus. Their minivan crumpled like a discarded piece of notebook paper that never made the jump shot into the trash can. When she went in to ID them at the morgue, she had vomited. Her father’s head looked like an inverted volcanic rock with remnants of lava just at the surface of each cracked pathway. There was scant recognition of her mother beneath the black crusted mass with patches of yellow. One side of her face was ripped, gaping, and raw with exposed molars.

And where was her nose? Her nose was missing.

During their double funeral, their caskets had remained closed. Tristen was born a few months later. For the past seven years, the images tormented her. Matted, blood-drenched hair. Mangled limbs. Serrated bones splitting burnt flesh. Then, there was the stench. Madison gagged in memory of it, feeling the acidic burn rise in her esophagus before an involuntary gulp.

She backed down the ladder with the jar cradled in one arm. A wood shard punctured her hand, and she lost her footing, unable to stop her cascade. The ragged wood shaved her abdomen, and her chin banged into a rung before she fell backward, hitting the floor. The jar exploded on impact and scattered the coins around her. Madison rolled onto her side in pain. Pressing a palm into the floor for leverage, she pushed herself up to a standing position.

A faint dripping sound drew her attention downward. Blood rained down her shirt. She touched her chin. The feel of the deep gash quickened her heart. She limped to the bathroom, pulled a pale blue washcloth from the rack, and pressed it firmly against the wound. The cloth soon turned crimson. Madison glanced upward and pleaded with her entire being to whoever might be listening. She was at her limit and just wanted to do what she needed to do.

As the minutes passed, the bleeding tapered off. She removed the soaked rag and felt the sting of the air touching the laceration. Her hand trembled as she dipped a clean rag into the toilet water to clean it. She reached for the First-Aid kit she often kept handy for Tristen. As she rummaged through it and found a tube of antibiotic cream, she recalled his sudden falls and seizures that led her to know something major was wrong with her son. Her heart ached even more for him as she applied the cream and bandaged her chin. She raised her shirt to assess the scrapes and bruises that formed racetracks from her breasts down to her pelvis. With two percent battery life left on her phone, she made the call she did not want to make.

“Hey, Janice. I just had a terrible fall and am running about thirty minutes behind.”

“Madison, we discussed this.”

“I know, but it was beyond my control.”

“Lately, everything is beyond your control.” Janice sighed. “Even though we are a small center, we still need dependable staff.”

“So much is going on. It won’t always be like this. I go back and forth between the hospital, work, home, and errands, all by myself. It’s just been rough going, but it’s temporary.”

“I understand, Madison. Believe me, I do. Everyone has obligations even if they do not share what they are. We cannot continue covering your abrupt lateness and absences. When we can’t find subs in time, we violate student-to-teacher ratio requirements. We’ve been fined before because of this, and we cannot risk our accreditation. It is in the best interest of the center to let you go.”

“Please, Janice, don’t do this to me. I just need a bit more time.”

“It is not personal. We enjoyed having you here, but it is time. I wish you and Tristen well. And listen, make sure you go to social services. I’m sure they can help you through all this.”

Janice ended the call before Madison could make any further petitions.

Funny, social services, yeah. I have already been. A card-carrying member of the shattered life brigade and still struggling. They don’t help with everything, you know. Thanks for nothing.

Adding insult to injury, her phone died.

Madison sobbed heavily as she moved to her next task. No matter what was happening in her life, there was always something to get done. She got a plastic baggie from a drawer to collect the coins. She had to get the water back on. Being able to keep the house clean and all utilities on was going to be even more important when Tristen returned. She sat on the floor and made sure each coin made it into the bag, even as pieces of glass pricked and sliced into her fingers.

With any luck, it will be enough to pay the difference. Obviously, coming close is never good enough in this world.

When she was done, Madison zipped the baggie and placed it in her purse. She looked at her blacked-out phone screen.

I guess I will charge it at the hospital. Hopefully, they’ll have something in the pantry for me to eat.

She touched the gauze on her chin and analyzed the moisture on her fingertips before heading out to her well-worn, hardly loved Acclaim that had moved her from point A to point B since she got her license as a teen. She placed her purse next to the box that held Butterscotch’s ashes and started the car. For days, the needle on the gauge had hovered on E, and Madison sat calculating the miles —first to the bank to deposit the coins, then to the hospital —and took a deep breath.

It will be fine. A day and a half, maybe.

As she drove, a dark cloud moved in, and the skies opened up.

How freakin’ appropriate, she thought, driving through the ensuing downpour.

She turned onto a back road near the nature reserve. Most people in the area drove like lunatics when it rained, and this way, she thought, would be safer. Madison didn’t mind the scenic route. It gave her peace. She admired the trees and the beauty of the sky after the cloud moved on to its next destination. The weather was always fickle this time of year. On a normal day, she would listen to music, but this was not a normal day. Instead, she drove in silence, thinking about where she might find work.

I can’t let Tristen down. I won’t lose the house. He will be able to come home to everything he needs.

Clatters, hiccups, gasps, and backfires brought Madison’s car to a halt two miles from the bank. Her body ached, and she was weak from hunger, but she knew her only choice was to walk there. Madison slung her purse over her shoulder and grabbed her umbrella from the trunk in case it rained again. She patted the hood and glanced at Butterscotch’s makeshift urn. Sit tight, you two. I’ll be back soon.

Madison walked along the quiet street. The nature reserve was massive, and she was stealing glimpses of its beauty when a clamorous noise disrupted her thoughts. She glanced back and noticed a woman pushing a cart.

Odd. I don’t remember anyone behind me. Maybe she’s from one of those homeless encampments.

Madison continued walking, not thinking much about the woman until she heard the cart speed up. She glanced back at her pursuer’s expressionless face. The woman was ragged, and her cart overflowed with an assortment of bags. Madison sped up to put distance between them.

The woman walked faster, the wheels of her cart screeching out a monotonous rattle.

Is she following me?

Madison tightened her grip on the umbrella, preparing to use it as a weapon if needed. She walked as fast as she could, and it seemed the woman continued to pace her. A car approached, and Madison considered waving it down but instead tried to indicate with her eyes that there was a problem. The way the driver, a woman, peered at them both, Madison knew she thought they were birds of a feather and wouldn’t trouble herself to stop. The car sped by.

Houses bordered the nature reserve. Madison pictured approaching one and knocking on the door, but dismissed the idea. She didn’t know the residents, and scenarios played out in her head of the many ways it could go wrong. All the horror movies she had ever seen prevented her from knocking on a stranger’s door.

Neighborly people don’t exist anymore. No way am I going to let some psycho drug me up and sew my mouth to some asshole.

Instead, Madison tried to convince herself that the lady wasn’t crazy or up to no good.

Maybe she doesn’t want to be alone or thinks I’ll share my umbrella if it rains. Am I the one who isn’t neighborly?

“Hey! Hey you! Can you give me some spare change?”

Madison cringed. Spare change? That is a laugh. There is no spare in my change, that is for sure. Not turning to address the woman’s question, she called over her shoulder. “Sorry, I don’t have anything!”

The woman doubled her pace.

Geesh, what is she…an athlete? Madison silently accepted the challenge and transitioned to the stride walks she used during cancer awareness 5K events.

“You’re a nurse or something, right?” the woman hollered. “I bet you live in one of these big houses here, don’t you?”

“Far from it, lady.”

Stupid scrubs. Madison remembered again how much she hated wearing scrubs around town because people always thought she worked in the medical field. Dan thought the same initially and seemed disappointed when she informed him it was a daycare uniform. She snorted at the recollection of him bragging about being a hedge fund manager, his aspirations to be a CFO, and how she would not have to concern herself with work.

The wheels continued rattling behind Madison. She didn’t like it one bit and thought she might lose the lady if she cut through a section of the nature reserve.

She ducked into the forest, which turned out to be a terrible choice. No witnesses or bystanders, and the woman easily caught up and grabbed Madison’s purse strap.

Madison turned and engaged in a tug-of-war over the purse. The coins jangled. She wasn’t going to let go. The woman’s charred and chapped lips seeped blood along the tight lines of her mouth, and her wrecked brown and charcoal-dotted teeth were jagged. The redness of her eyes nearly matched the flaking crusty blisters on her face.

“I can hear it. Give it to me!” The woman snarled as if possessed and bit Madison’s forearm.

Pain radiated through Madison as her skin split open, bleeding from the force of teeth digging into fatty layers. Her umbrella tumbled to the ground. She made a fist with her opposite hand and pounded the top of her assailant’s head until her jaw relaxed and she released her bite. Madison recoiled. The wounds on her forearm expanded into saucy crescents with fringed edges.

Before Madison could calculate her next move, the woman snagged the umbrella and rammed the handle into Madison’s chin. The injury she had suffered earlier burst open, exposing meaty nodules and bone. Fresh blood poured out as Madison retrieved the umbrella and jabbed the woman in the stomach with the pointed end. The woman fell to her knees, and Madison swung her purse with as much strength as she could muster. The change in the purse jingled like a wind chime when it collided with the woman’s nose, crushing it on impact. Even as the hag yelled obscenities and cupped her face, she appeared to register the distinct sound of the money, and it rejuvenated her.

“Give it to me!”

As the woman stood, Madison saw the hatred in her eyes. Her nose had swelled into a twisted S, and she used the back of her hand to wipe away the blood that poured from it.

Like fatigued pugilists, they circled one another, each assessing the other’s will to possess the bag. Madison weighed her options. Part of her knew that for Tristen’s sake, she should give the woman the purse, but she was exhausted by life and all the dreadful things that had happened. The fighter within took control. She seized the woman and slammed her against a tree trunk.

They exchanged blows, slaps, and scratches and fell rolling onto the ground, each with a good grip on the other’s hair. Madison pinned the woman, straddling her, and screamed when the woman yanked her ponytail. Madison picked up a sharp pinecone and corkscrewed it into the woman’s forehead, ignoring the throbbing wounds opening on her palm. The pinecone’s prickles poked and ripped away pieces of flesh from the woman’s brow, and she finally let go of Madison’s hair. They lay panting, their faces and clothing imbued with their intermingled blood.

“This is over,” Madison said. “I am walking away now. If you know what is good for you, you will do the same.”

Madison picked up her purse and moved toward the path, knowing she would be hard pressed to find anyone on the swampy side of the nature reserve at that hour. Still losing blood, she fought the lightheaded feeling as best as she could, but it was of no use. She blacked out.

It was late afternoon when Madison awoke to the sight of a buzzard hovering overhead. Ants were crawling all over her. A revenant. She brushed them off in panic.

Oh my God. Did I pass out? What time is it? I need to get to Tristen. My purse? Oh no, where is my purse?

Infuriated, she forced herself to get up and resolved to search the surroundings for signs of the woman. A couple passed by, and it was clear they didn’t want anything to do with her and her bloody mess, even when she tried to explain. They yelled and insulted her, accusing her of being an addict. Madison moved on from their threats.

She found the woman sitting next to her cart on a small dock at the lakeside, counting coins. Madison picked up a large rock and crept to where the woman sat so busy with her task that she didn’t notice Madison on the approach.

“Over seventy-five dollars,” she crowed, and Madison lost it and slammed the rock into the woman’s unsuspecting head. The fracturing skull sounded to Madison like the fibrous crack of a coconut as it spills its milk. Blood pooled where the woman’s head hit the deck.

Madison nudged the unmoving thief with her foot a few times, and there was no response. Killing her was not a part of the plan. Panicked, Madison cast about, looking for bystanders. Seeing no one, she calculated.

She made me do this. I am not a killer. I’m not. Maybe no one will even miss her. I just need to get my money and leave. But wait, my blood is on her clothes. That would implicate me.

She set her eyes on a sign that read, “There are alligators in this lake. Do not feed, tease, or harass.”

Madison picked up her purse and slung it back over her shoulder. She pulled the woman up and struggled to lift her into the cart. Madison hated the sound of the screaming wheels as she pushed the cart to the water’s edge. She tilted the cart toward the water.

“Stop! Police!”

Everything happened in slow motion. A high-pitched screeching pierced Madison’s ears. She couldn’t stop the forward motion of the cart. The woman flopped into the water. Madison hobbled away as fast as her legs would carry her. A gunshot rang out. She instinctively stopped to check her body for bullet holes and realized the officer’s attention was no longer on her.

He had let off a shot to scare off the alligator, which was now swimming away after having savagely chomped into the woman’s leg. The officer pulled her from the water, and she cried and begged for the officer’s help as he tended to her dangling leg and called for backup.

I did not kill her.

Madison kept moving, making her way through the reserve until she once again encountered people. She made a stealthy entry into a picnic shelter restroom and rushed to the sink, putting her mouth to the faucet and drinking as if she had been stranded in a desert. When she was satiated, she cleaned herself up, leaving light pink blobs all over the sink and floor.

Madison cautiously exited the bathroom. She looked around and tried to be inconspicuous. It was early evening, and families were showing up to enjoy the amenities. As she walked, she caught a familiar figure out of the corner of her eye and did a double take. There was Dan, playing basketball with some guys, completely oblivious. For a moment, she fantasized about him taking her into her arms and making it all better, but she knew it would never be so.

Spotting his keys next to a water bottle on the bench, she hobbled to it and seized them. She felt the pain surge through her and stifled her agony as she made it to his car. When she unlocked it, she grabbed his wallet from where she knew he kept it. She took all the cash and any cards she knew the PINs for. Careful to avoid notice, she returned the keys to the bench and disappeared into the trails.

***

Madison stepped out of the shower and dried off. Her impromptu pixie haircut and freshly dyed jet-black hair looked better on her than she thought it would. She checked the sutures on her chin and turned off the light. She chose jeans and a nice blouse for the day’s outfit and took care with her scabbed and bruised hands as she made herself a big country breakfast of eggs, bacon, grits, biscuits, potatoes, and a cup of coffee. Her mother’s recipes always gave her comfort in difficult times. She savored the moment, centering herself before cleaning her dishes and leaving to visit Tristen at the hospital.

It had been a few days since she rambled through her explanations about her condition, but Tristen bought everything she told him about taking a tumble while on a hike at the ravine. The doctors were just as gullible, or at least they pretended to be when they fixed her up. As she drove to the hospital, Dan called her.

“Hello.”

“I don’t know how you did it, but I know it was you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Five grand, that’s what. You know I can press charges, right?”

“It would be nice if I could press charges on you for walking out on a kid when you said you would be there no matter what. Children believe in promises, Dan. Do you know he asks for you every day and I have to make excuses about it? You could have at least had the decency to—”

“So you want to guilt trip me? Madison, it’s nothing against you or Tristen. You are great. I want the best for you both, but that is not the life for me. A kid is one thing, but his situation is a lot more than I expected to take on. I just can’t. Sorry. Maybe you should find his real father.”

“Yep, you’re sorry for sure.”

“Whatever you say, Madison. I am serious now. I will let this slide, but just know that if I catch you stealing from me again, I will have you arrested.”

The call ended.

Madison turned on the radio, changed it to the local news channel, and listened to the latest report about the attempted murder in the park, the alligator attack, the hero officer, and the unidentified woman still at large. Just as she planned, she was relieved the descriptions didn’t fit her or her new look. The report gave way to snippets of local politicians addressing the rise in homelessness, opioid addiction, and crime. She changed the station after the statistics gave way to lies about what the officials would do for the community. She landed on a station playing “You Get What You Give” and sang along with the song that had carried her through so many troubled times.

When Madison arrived at the hospital, a nurse was wheeling out an amputee wearing an eyepatch. A lump welled up in her throat. It was the woman from the park.

Is she blind now? Will she know me?

Madison turned her head slightly, but it was too late. The woman’s hand closed around Madison’s wrist like a boa constrictor.

“Let me go!”

Madison twisted her arm in an attempt to release it, but the more she struggled, the tighter the grip became. The woman tumbled out of the wheelchair, pulling Madison down with her. After a feeble attempt at intervening, the nurse called for help. The woman jerked Madison’s hand to her mouth, chomping down hard into the joint of one of her fingers, and tore it away. The digit landed on the floor.

Madison trailed blood as she scooted away, staring at the one who had the power to send her away forever —but I am the victim!

Help arrived. The woman was restrained, and Madison was tended to while her nemesis writhed on the floor, reptilic, one-eyed and one-legged, cackling.

Abruptly, the laughing ceased. Suspended in the awkward silence and locked gaze, Madison was sure the unhinged woman was about to blow the whistle, and her life would be over. The woman’s mouth contorted into a mocking rictus. Madison cringed, and her face grew hotter than Satan’s bath water.

In a merciful shift, the woman’s smile became winsome, and she said, “A penny for your thoughts?”

About the Author:
L.D. Jordan> is a shapeshifter. She writes across genres and frequently makes space for her special interest (horror, of course). Boring: She has earned an MFA in creative writing. Interesting: L.D. Jordan is a member of the Horror Writers Association. She previously completed Moanaria’s Fright Club writing workshop. Her work has appeared in print and on stage over time, but she is not one to discuss it. Her focus remains on whatever she is doing at the moment. That being said, she has made a general commitment to stick to L.D. Jordan as a handle for a while. Possibly even permanently. So, you may be able to keep up with this eccentric pop-up shop this time. Aside from writing, her greatest joy has been mothering two sons and being a devoted wife. All three are amazing gifts who have been a true source of growth and inspired living.

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