Well hello! Sorry it’s been so long since my last post. I’ve been working on a new novel. I’m not going to say much about it right now, but it involves a few murders… of course.
This little tale is for my friend Emma. Absolutely none of it is based on true events 😉
* * *
It’d been one of those days. One of those weeks… months… years, in fact. Evalina hated the office, hated the geriatric nazi who ran the stationery cupboard (she often wondered if the old git was an actual war criminal); hated the snorting project coordinator with the serious nasal polyp issue; hated the shuffling sleazeball from the canteen who served her the tepid, murky coffee with the suspicious white foam hovering on the surface.
But MOST of all, she hated the clique of over made-up bitches that surrounded her work pod; cackling and crowing like a cluck of battery hens. It hadn’t been too bad before, when the most complicated part of her job had been deciding what colour of eye shadow to wear on dress-down Friday. But since her psychotic manager had come back from his secondment in the states, things had gone rapidly downhill.
She found her solace in the archive room, in amongst the tall pull-out cabinets and the cool air from the fan that blew gently into the room, keeping everything crisp and fresh… unlike the smell of farts from the IT guys’ open-plan hovel that she had to pass through on her way there. At least they were all just a bunch of geeks who had no interested in heckling her; unlike the guys from Finance – she’d rather clamp her big toe in her GHDs than walk past that lot.
Well, all except one, that is: Kevin.
To most people in the office, Kevin McKenzie was your typical friendly Glaswegian joker, he never meant any harm, he would do anything for anyone; all that crap… all Evalina got from Kevin were smatterings of innuendo bordering on sexual abuse and a bubbling stream of nastiness that made her die inside (when she complained, her manager told her she was being too sensitive, ‘Take a joke you miserable cow,’ she’d told her once – like that helped – Evalina knew the difference between a joke and an insult. She was Romanian… not retarded.)
It all came to a head on the day she decided to wear her favourite red dress. Fair enough, it was quite short, but she had the legs for it and it’s not like she’d gone bare-legged. Black opaques and a pair of mid-height patent platforms. She’d liked what she seen in the mirror that morning. She’d kept her make-up simple, just a bit of gloss and a sweep of black kohl. Her long hair was smoothed back into a simple ponytail. She knew she looked good.
But the pod hens didn’t agree. One of them smirked when she walked in, then coughed to get the attention of the others who all had their heads stuck in their tacky magazines full of celebrity cellulite. She felt the weight of their stares; they didn’t even have to speak. She heard them laughing behind her back as she scurried off to the archive room, murmuring something about filing, her eyes stinging with the tears that were about to escape. She didn’t sense anyone behind her until it was too late.
‘What’s this, Elvira? Dress like a hoor day?’
She whirled round at the sound of the voice. ‘It’s EVALINA,’ she said. He sneered and she felt angry tears sliding down her face. ‘You’re not supposed to be in here, Kevin…’
‘No? What you gonnae do aboot it then, eh?’ She heard the click of the lock as he turned the key. She backed slowly into the corner of the room, trying to reach the phone.
‘Oh, I wouldnae if I wiz you, doll,’ Kevin spat. ‘You’ve been waiting for this for a long time, ya wee cock tease…’ He started to unbuckle his belt as he walked towards her.
She felt giddy; a sudden burst of adrenaline rushed through her veins. No. There was no way she was taking this shit. Not from him. Not from anybody. Her fingers scrabbled along the desk behind her as he took his next few steps until he was only arms distance away, fiddling with his boxer shorts. She was trapped… ‘Wait!’ she yelled, pointing at the door. Instinctively he turned his head and in that split second, she grabbed hold of the thing on the desk that she’d tried so hard to get a grip of… The eight-hole punch.
At the exact moment he turned back to face her, she swung the heavy metal punch towards him, catching him square in the face. Stunned, he swayed slightly before toppling backwards onto the floor. Evalina puffed out a long slow breath. All those kettlebell sessions had finally paid off. She’d no idea she had such strength in her arms! She stepped over his prone body, ready to walk out and leave him there, giving him a little kick as she went.
He didn’t stir.
Puzzled, she peered down at his crumpled form. ‘Must’ve hit him harder than I thought,’ she muttered. Bending down to touch his cheek it became quite obvious that something wasn’t right. Definitely not right. She laid a hand on his chest. No movement. My god… she thought. I’ve killed the fucker… She felt herself wobble as something finally snapped inside her head, like the twang of a guitar string pulled too tight. She hadn’t realised that losing your mind was such a physical thing.
She worked on autopilot after that; her foggy brain clarified as she dragged his body over towards the empty steel cabinet in the far corner of the room. Only she had the combination for this one; it was meant for top secret documents, but at the moment it contained nothing.
It was the perfect size for a body.
The other perfect thing was the fan that sucked the stale air out of the room and blew the clean cool air gently back in, keeping everything crisp and fresh…
* * *
Ha – so the sleazy IT guy gets his comeuppance. I wonder if Evalina might get rid of those pod bitches next? Let’s hope so…
Talk to you again soon.