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Bette was in trouble, she waited for someone to save her but knew she had no one to depend on but herself.


Submitted:Apr 28, 2013    Reads: 20    Comments: 2    Likes: 0   


Bette Davis eyes.
If there was a time and a place to die for Bette then this wasn't it where and how she'd planned it.
That saying hanging on by your fingernails was never more appropriate than it was now. Because that's what she was doing, literally hanging there from a ten storey building. Six floors up and four windows along was where you could find her, trying with all her might to get back into the office she'd vacated involuntarily about five minutes ago.
It wasn't even her who'd found the discrepancies in the company accounts, it was Ariadne her predecessor who'd disappeared one night on her way home from work.
She'd left enough clues though and over the past few months Bette had been piecing them together. She'd shown the files to her boss who'd told her not to say anything as he had to flush out the perpetrator. Only it was he who'd been bodging or massaging the accounts, whichever way you looked at it it was theft. He'd salted money away into far flung accounts in far flung places.
He said he'd sort it out and sort it out he did.
Holding a gun to her head he'd forced her out onto the ledge and as she sat there with the wind whipping around her skirt he pushed her. Turning in mid air she held on for dear life, her fingers gripping the concrete as she begged him to help her. He closed the window and got on with the shredding as she hauled her right leg up to the same height as her hands and managed to get her toes on the ledge.
Her shoe had disappeared down into the quiet street. The office being situated in a less affluent part of town, so the only person who'd find it would be a drunk or an addict who'd look fo the other one to sell as a pair.
Well tough, she was wearing it.!
She'd been named Bette after Bette Davis of course, her mother being a big fan of her films, those where she'd conquered adversity with a glance from those iconic eyes. And Bette had inherited that self same doeful look that had occaisionally got her out of trouble, if only it worked on him in the office now frantically trying to get rid of the evidence.
She never thought she'd die this way, it was always expected that she'd marry and have lots of children and grandkids and die as an old lady in her own bed.
Not taken early by some thief.
She wondered if she should jump. If a car came along it would break her fall but as it was quiet she'd probably just smash her skull to bits, or some idiot speeding would run her over. A bullet would have been quicker but he'd put the gun down as he had other pressing matters.
Her grip was failing her, her limbs were tired and the ledge was getting slippy.
She shouted to attract attention but her echoes rang out over empty alleys. There was nothing else to do but cry.
"Bette Davis wouldn't cry" the voice was her granny's but she knew it was in her head as she'd been scared of heights and wouldn't have ventured up here.
Granny was always right, or she had been when she was alive. She'd always quote sayings from old black and white films and she was always right.
Those old films they watched together, ahead of their time and leading the way for feminism.
Bette found her second wind, there was no way she was going out at the hands of a fat baldy creep who'd used any excuse to touch her up or squeeze her waist.
Her fingers prized at the window, the frame old and wooden thankfully rotten broke off in her hand and she pushed it up with all her might. Her shoeless foot found a chair and she hauled herself through the gap, thankfully three months on the herbalife diet had shed the pounds that may have held her back. Bette carefully took off her other shoe and held it in her right hand to use as a weapon. He was in the other room, a laptop open on the desk and the shredder going at full pelt.
The gun was on the desk, it was there for the taking but she didn't know how to use it, still she picked it up and pointed, clicking back the bit at the top she'd seen actors do in films, hearing the noise he turned and held up his hands. The shredder died as the shock on his face made her giggle.
"Bette" he begged, "I have money and I'll share it with you"
But he'd already thrown her out of the window once and she couldn't risk it again, she moved the gun as if motioning for him to move and he sat in the corner while she quickly looked at the screen.
"I have money in the Cayman Islands, if you let me I'll transfer some to your account" he said, she was tempted of course but Bette knew this man wouldn't let her live. She fired the gun once there was no noise as the silencer had seen to that, her old boss fell to the floor and was dead in an instant. She wanted to drop the gun and phone the police but then her eyes glanced back to the screen on the laptop.
A few minutes later and Bette had what she wanted, she took the laptop with her and cleaned the place up, wiping down a few surfaces after closing the window. The body lay in the back room where it would be hard to find although why anyone would want to come to this dump she didn't know.
Granny wouldn't approve but Granny was dead and the living had to look after themselves. Bette took her passport from the drawer and packed a small bag, later while staring out onto the blue sea before her she remembered a quote from one of her favourite films.
It was a moonless night but she laughed as she drank her champagne.
"I may not have the moon" she thought looking down at the diamond ring which sparkled on her finger "but I have the stars".




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