"My good madam, I have no intentions of selling you anything!" He smiled at her with a wink. The man brushed her aside as he strolled into their living room. "Now, I will be quick, as I know you have to get to work."
"Wait, who said you could... Hey, how did you know I had to..." Cathy stopped talking. She couldn't finish her sentence. Flabbergasted. Yes, she was flabbergasted at the gall of this man.
The man sat in her recliner and sipped her tea. "Nasty stuff, this tea. Is health really worth it?" He laughed. "Please, sit, Mrs. Miller. We have much to discuss."
"Who do you think you are?" Cathy dashed over to her kitchen counter to pick up her cell phone to call the police. Where did her phone go? She left it charging this morning on the kitchen counter. A whistle rang out from the living room, where her uninvited guest waved her cell phone back and forth, between his thumb and index finger.
"Mrs. Miller, please. I would like to get down to business."
"How...?" Confusion caused her head to hurt. Could this really be happening?
"How? That is easy. 'Tis but a little sleight of hand – a little hocus pocus." The man shook his hand, and the phone disappeared. "Mrs. Miller, if you would like me to leave, just ask."
"Please leave," she scowled, as she pointed to the front door, "and give me back my phone!"
He let out a sigh. "Alright. Although, it is a shame we didn't talk about your husband's unfortunate accident." He rose from the puffy chair and turned to the door.
"W...wait." Cathy didn't realize she said the words until they slipped by her lips. Did she really want to talk to this man? She then noticed his eyes. Something was wrong about them. He had no irises; just pupils, swimming on white globes. And she could swear for a brief moment his teeth were all filed to points. So many things seemed wrong with this man. Although, she doubted "man" was the right term. Every fiber of her being told her this creature was no man, and to run. But deep down, she knew she had to hear what it had to say. She just had to know.
He grinned, as if hearing her inner most thoughts, and spun on his heels to face her. "Now we're being civilized! Shall we sit?" He gestured towards the couch. "Oh, and your phone is in your front pocket." He gave a non-chalet wave towards Cathy.
She felt the outside of her pocket, and her fingers slid over the outline of her phone. It hadn't been there a moment before.
Cathy sat on the edge of the couch, her hands cupped on her lap. Relaxing was not an option.
"You may call me Mr. Stix." He reached over to the end table and picked up a framed picture of Marty and Cathy. "What a fine-looking couple you make." His grin widened.
Cathy could feel the warmth of her cheeks as her anger arose. "What is it you want, Mr. Stix?"
"It is not what I want, but what you want." He set the picture back on the end table and straightened it a couple of times, until it was exactly where he first found it. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped off his hands, as if he had just touched something distasteful. "You have a relationship problem; I am offering a cure. I am offering to end your marriage without any messy divorce or splitting of the assets. In fact, with the insurance policy you already have on your husband, you can live comfortably for the rest of your life." He leaned forward with his hands together. "Sound interesting to you, Mrs. Miller?"
She regarded his face for a moment. His face was narrow, with high cheekbones and a pointy nose. He seemed almost cartoonish. "How do you know I have relationship issues?"
"Good madam, knowing things is my business. Like when you were eight and let the neighbor boy see up your skirt. Quite the exhibitionist." He winked at her from across the room.
Story continues below
"Are you the devil?" Her eye widened.
"Why madam, you flatter me!" His voice had a delighted tone. "I assure you, I am not. But I do represent him. The boss can't be expected to handle every matter that comes across his desk."
"Why are you here? And why me?" Her voice was shaking.
"To help you, of course." He tried to sound reassuring. "You know another client of ours, so while I was in the area, I wanted to offer our services to you, as well."
"But I don't know anyone who's spouse was killed -"
"Exactly the point," he interrupted. "We wouldn't be any good if everyone knew about it."
Mr. Stix regarded the overwhelmed look on Cathy's face for a moment before speaking. "Let me cut to the chase, so to speak. We are offering to kill your husband and end this travesty you call a marriage. You, my dear, get the freedom you desire."
Cathy contemplated. But why was she contemplating this? Was life really that bad? No, she couldn't continue. She had to do something. Why not just leave? Why not divorce him? She loved the house; she couldn't leave it. Was it really this easy?
"Yes, it is," he said, interrupting her thoughts again. "You can choose to not accept my proposition, Mrs. Miller. You are under no obligation. However, perhaps I should show you your future, should you decide to pass on my offer." He closed his eyes and raised his hand. A moment later, the visions started.
There was a flash of light, and Cathy woke in a large movie theater, sitting next to Mr. Stix. He munched on popcorn, looking up at the screen.
Cathy began to ask what was happening, but Mr. Stix shushed her and pointed to the screen. She moved down a couple of seats away from him; being that close to him unnerved her. He chuckled to himself, for this was not the first person to squirm in his presence. He rather liked it.
An image of the outside of her house flickered on the screen. The camera panned and zoomed in on the front door, which swung open, as if the camera itself had opened it. Images of the living room flowed by, stopping on Marty. He stood there in a familiar blue suit; he was older, but wore the same stupid smile. His hair had more grey than brown, but besides that, he looked the same. He walked out the front door, heading off to work. "Some things never change," Mr. Stix laughed.
The camera panned to the bedroom.
"Oh, here comes the good part." His grin made munching popcorn a little difficult, but he managed. On the screen, sitting on the bed, a haggard Cathy stared at her feet, her hands rubbing over her lap. Tears rolled down her cheeks, as she began to sob.
"You never leave." His voice actually sounded sympathetic. "You still complained and talked about leaving, but year after year, no divorce, no leaving, and no freedom."
Cathy felt tears rolling down her cheeks. She looked so old on the screen, compared to how Marty had looked. Her heart sank.
"And then, there's this." Again, Mr. Stix pointed at the screen.
Cathy glanced at Mr. Stix, and then looked back up at the screen to see her older self pick up the object from her lap. What was that?
BANG!
In horror, Cathy watched her older form fall limp. Blood sprayed against the walls. All breath left her lungs. Panic struck her, and she began looking around for an exit. The theatre spun. Her eyes could no longer focus; she needed to escape.
Mr. Stix snapped his fingers, and they were back in the living room. Cathy felt her head, making sure she didn't have any new holes.
She glared at Mr. Stix. "You bastard. How could you?"
