A desperate woman fights for the life of her unborn child.

Beyond The Stairwell

By Joseph Logsdon

From the beginning, things didn’t seem right. Elsa knew she was being followed, and that knowledge alone, made her feel incredibly fragile. Plenty of people were after her, mainly because she was known as a loose woman. Behind that loving, innocent smile, existed something corrupt and sinister. Elsa certainly had her enemies, to say the least.

She walked into the apartment of her rich boyfriend, Marty Lucas. Marty had the looks, the fame, just about everything a man could hope to have. How he obtained those things, no one exactly knew. He had gone from rich, to poor, all the way back to rich again. His life, it often appeared, was one of luck and prestige.

Elsa gazed at Marty, lust in her eyes. Her sinful nature, more than ever before, finally came to the surface. Elsa kissed him, aggressively passionate in the way she wrapped her fingers around his neck. The passion, the never ending lust, increased their desire for instant gratification.

“You seem nervous, more so than usual,” Marty whispered, kissing her neck.

“I have something to tell you. It won’t be easy to hear, so I want you to keep an open mind, lest you become angry. There’s so much to say, so little time,” she cried.

“I’ve never known you to become this upset. By all means, tell me what’s on your mind,” he implored.

“Well, to start, there’s the matter of our relationship. In some respects, you’re very much like my former husband, Jack. You’re everything he was, minus the gambling and heavy drinking. Both of you have wonderful, almost otherworldly blue eyes. Where he failed, you succeeded. There are so many things that I have to tell you, the most important being that I’m carrying a child, your child. This time around, I’m determined to keep the baby,” she confessed.

Marty immediately rose off the sofa. He gazed out the window, panicked by her sudden words. The simple mention of having a baby, sickened him to the very core. He struck her, violently and without mercy.

“Let me make this clear: I’m not going to allow you to keep this baby. Rest assured, I’ll pay for the procedure. My reputation is the most important thing in my life, far more important than any child. You had your chance to speak, now let me have mine. It would be best, for the time being, if we didn’t see each other. The simple fact is, there’s just no room for you in my life. Call me cruel, call me unfair, call me whatever you want. Leave this city, find yourself someone decent and kind,” Marty exclaimed.

Tears poured down Elsa’s face. It was as if someone had taken her heart, squeezed it like an orange, and devoured it without mercy. Her baby had been rejected by the world, and the tragic part was, it hadn’t even been born yet. It was the life of her child, versus the cruelty of an evil world.

“The love I have for you, this unbearable love, I’ve never had for any other human being. That doesn’t mean anything to you, I would assume. To you and everyone else, I’m just some whore, about as valuable as a fuck machine. That’s all I am, just some fuck toy! It’s sickening, downright horrible, the manner in which you treat people. I might be evil, depraved even, but in the eyes of God, you overshadow just about everyone,” she hissed.

Anger increased within his heart, to the point where it became practically unbearable for him. He struck her, that time harder and with greater precision. Elsa dashed towards the door, not only frantic, but also completely hysterical. Her pain was greater than the tears she produced. She was falling apart, gradually and ever so slowly.

“You can run, you can’t hide. The moment you leave here, right up until the day you die, you’ll get nothing from me. That baby, boy or girl, will have no place in my home. Don’t look for me; you won’t find me,” he grunted.

“Do you think I want the child to know what a monster you are? I’d rather slash my wrists, violently and on display for everyone to see, than have it be under your influence. There you have it, Marty, you finally won. Now, you’re like all the other deadbeat fathers, except they actually have the decency to go to prison,” she hissed, slamming the door.

Elsa walked along the dark corridor. Her mind, as it had done so many times before, started to spin out of control. The elevator seemed like it was miles away. With the passing of every second, the walls closed in on her. Elsa could hear someone walking behind her. They didn’t speak, for fear of being detected. In her naivety, Elsa decided to ignore the problem. Turning around, she assumed, would only worsen the situation. That was her mistake, the first of many to come.

The elevator didn’t appear to be operational. It looked old, not to mention unsafe. She had only one choice: she would have to take the stairs. Directly to her right, almost out of view, stood a menacing figure. Somehow, without even bothering to look, she knew he was there. His face, for whatever reason, remained covered by a mask. Any sudden movements, even the slightest flinch, could potentially end her life.

The stairwell was dark and uninviting. Many people, some old, some young, had perished because of it. It was a place specifically built for death, particularly murder. Women had been raped, molested, slaughtered. It was the perfect place for a little, quiet murder. So long as Elsa continued to be alone, she would be in danger.

She could hear him behind her. Elsa knew that by failing to get help, she was putting her life at risk. It was too late to go back, too late to go forward. She was stuck, hundreds of feet above the first floor, in a place where she couldn’t escape. It was Elsa, those stairs, and her potential murderer.

She decided to run for her life. For every inch she gained, he managed to steal ten more. It was a dance, choreographed for one purpose: to finally put an end to her suffering. Elsa turned the corner, tripped over the ledge, and before she knew it, she was on the floor. Directly over her head, stood the masked man. The strange part was, he didn’t even bother to speak. He had blue eyes, which begged the question: was it Jack or Marty?

“Who are you? Why did you murder my baby? It’s dead, all because of you,” she cried.

“Would you like to join it, then?”

The End


Submitted: October 11, 2015

© Copyright 2023 JL reaper. All rights reserved.

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