The Craigslist Murders - Brenda Cullerton [73]
“Hello, Mother,” Charlotte whispered. The baleful stare only made Charlotte smile. “How are you feeling?” Dumping her coat on a chair, she kept one hand on the doorknob and sat down.
The woman in the bed made a feeble attempt to turn her head as Charlotte resumed speaking, making no effort to approach her.
“You know, I came up here with the idea of hurting you, she whispered. “Physically, I mean. But I don’t really see how I could inflict much more damage than this, do you?” Pulling out her silver compact from her bag, Charlotte took three steps towards the bed and placed the mirror directly in front of her mother’s one good eye. Her left hand flailed around beneath the sheet as she moaned.
“Ugly and useless, Mother. Do you remember telling me that? And do you remember sending me that lovely gift?” she asked, retreating back to the chair near the door. The only response was a blank stare.
Arranging her coat so it hung neatly in the chair back behind her, Charlotte crossed her knees and began to talk. “Do you know there was a time when I loved you, Mother? When I wanted to grow up and be just like you? I wanted pretty clothes and a pretty house.”
As Charlotte moved into the rhythm of her words, her eyes wandered towards the window and her voice assumed a dreamlike tone. A heavy sigh from her mother interrupted her.
“Am I boring you, Mother?” she said. “Because this is when the story gets interesting. Anyway, as it turns out, I grew up to be just like you. I learned to smile, Mother. I acquired style. Great style. And now there are just a few minor differences between the two of us.”
Digging down into her bag, Charlotte removed the Post and set it on her lap.
“For instance, I decided to do something with my anger, Mother. To make the world a better place! So I’ve been getting rid of women like you. Women with a social conscience, social being the operative word. Ah! I see you’ve opened your eyes. But you can’t read, can you? I’ll help you.” Pointing to the headline, Charlotte read the words “The Craigslist Murders” out loud.
Then her eyes drifted back towards the window and she spoke, almost wistfully. “You can’t imagine how it feels, Mother. It’s like soaring, flying, that moment when the poker hits flesh. I’m so alive, so connected to these women. Even my pores feel as if they’re absorbing their life force. I’m releasing them, you see? That’s what they don’t understand. They should be grateful to me.”
Seeing her mother’s scrawny fingers fumbling towards the call button, Charlotte just smiled.
“I made a mistake, this time. I left a woman alive. The papers call her a victim. But she isn’t a victim, Mother. She’s a predator. Just like all the other women I’ve released from their misery. Women, like you, who know the price of everything but the cost of nothing. You and all your exquisite beautiful things,” Charlotte whispered. “Everything you touch is precious. But you live in emotional squalor. Are you listening, Mother?”
Her mother was watching Charlotte’s every move with one good eye and fidgeting around with her fingers.
“Just the thought of you living in such pain gives me pleasure, Mother. Because you don’t deserve to die. Letting you live is a perfect punishment.”
Hearing a discreet tap on the door, Charlotte turned around, and gave the nurse her most radiant smile.
“Oh nurse. I’m so glad to see you,” she said. “My mother can’t seem to stop crying.”
“Don’t worry