Victim 18 post 11

“I notice the house still has its characteristic scent.”

Wren smiles and gives a little giggle.

“Scent? Oh yea the fudge. I guess when there has been a batch of brown sugar, fudge, made twice a week for three generations the smell never leaves.”

“Twice a week?”

“Yep, two times a week as long as I can remember Grandma would make fudge. She told me it was Grandpa’s Mom and Grandma that got her hooked on it and now I am not only hooked but am the sole keeper of the family recipe.”

“But you don’t make it twice a week.”

“No, one usually, but if I get really stressed out maybe two or three.”

They walk through the mainly deserted house, a few pieces of furniture here and there, a couple of family pictures still hanging on the walls. The carpets had been pulled up exposing the old dark hardwood flooring that had been hiding beneath them.

“Your decorating seems to be along the lines of early deserted.”

“You should talk, what do you have a recliner, a bed and a dresser? My original intention was to move my furniture over from my apartment this fall.”

Wren looks around the nearly empty living room, tears running down her face, sobbing, holding her arms tight around her torso.

“Why, why did this have to happen to me? Why does my world keep falling apart? Why did I have to survive?”

“Because for some reason maybe, you were meant to. I can’t explain why, anymore than I can answer the rest. But I can say this, if you hadn’t survived I would be short my best friend. A friend that I have grown to love. A friend in whom I have come to cherish every moment I spend with. If you had not survived I think a piece of me would have gone with you.”

“Norman I, I’m sorry. I just feel so overwhelmed, I am glad to have survived. And I do love you. Maybe I’m just too tired and things will be better tomorrow.”

“It is getting late and it has been a long day.”

“Come on, I’ll finish showing you around the house.”

Wren wipes tears from her eyes and face as she leads Norman down the hall.

“This is my laundry room with its vintage washer, dryer and chest freezer. This is the front bedroom as you can see it's in my artistic faze. This room back here is or will be my home office. This one originally was the baby room but as you can see Grandpa converted it into a very spacious bathroom. These are the basement stairs and this other door is the attic stairs. And finally this is the master bedroom.”

“Not quite the size of modern rooms are they?”

“No but it does cut down on the heating and cooling bills and it makes it much more cozy.”

“I notice this is the one room that’s completely furnished. I guess you're done with this one?”

“I figured if I was going to spend time here working on the place I might as well have a place to sleep. The furniture is all original nineteen twenties art-deco restored and refinished back to its original appearance.”

“So is it all original to the house?”

“Yes, except the mattress is new. They were some of the few pieces that were worth having restored and that caught my eye.”

“If this is what you grew up with, it does explain your taste in furniture.”

“Don’t you like my taste in furniture?”

“Actually? I very much adore your taste in furniture art-deco bordering on Bauhaus. It gives a room a clean and uncluttered look. Yes, I do like it.”

“We need to be going to bed. You can get ready in the bathroom; I’ll get ready in here.”

Norman leaves her to get ready and she closes the door behind him. She goes to the dresser and pulls out a pair of dark blue satin pajamas. After she has changed she slips on a pink flannel housecoat and a pair of matching slippers. She opens the door and finds Norman standing there in dark green cotton pajamas. He steps back into the room and sets his neatly folded clothes down on top of the dresser. Wren leaves to finish in the bathroom and returns to find the black satin comforter pulled back exposing the white satin sheets beneath. Norman is already lying on one side of the king-sized bed looking as though he is about ready to fall asleep. Wren walks over and turns on the bedside lamp then back to the door and turns off the overhead light. She takes off her housecoat and climbs into bed.

“Good night Norm.”

“Good night Wren.”

Sometime in the middle of the night Wren starts tossing, turning and thrashing about in her sleep shouting and screaming.

“No!, not again! Leave me alone! No more, please no more! I can’t take anymore, just leave me alone! Why can’t you just let me die!”

“Wren are you O.K.? Wren, Wren!”

“Norman? What are you doing here?”

“I’m spending the night, remember?”

“Where am I?”

“Your house, remember we came here after we found your apartment was emptied.”

“Yea, it’s coming back to me.”

“What’s wrong? Why were you screaming?”

“I was dreaming about last night.”

Norman slides closer to Wren sliding his right arm under her neck and wrapping his left around her waist. He holds her close to him, her head nuzzled up under his chin. Her back pressed up to him. He holds her until again they both fall fast asleep.