Free THREE TIMES A LADY by Jon Osborne Page B

streaked down Dana’s cheeks and blurred her vision.  Through the veil of tears, she watched numbly as her mother emerged quickly from the master bedroom, alerted by the commotion out in the hallway. 
    Dana’s heart shattered into a million tiny pieces at her first glimpse of the beautiful face she hadn’t seen for more than thirty-five years.  Same short blonde hair as her own.  Same pale blue eyes.  Same diminutive figure.
    Sara Whitestone knocked lightly on the bathroom door, a pattern of worry-lines etching a series of deep wrinkles into her smooth forehead.  ‘James, honey?  Are you okay?  What was that noise?’
    The monster cleared his throat inside the bathroom.  ‘I’m fine,’ he coughed.  ‘I’ll be out in just a minute.’
    Sadly, Sara Whitestone was completely fooled by the mimicry, just as she’d been on the devastating night of 4 July 1976.  Without knowing it, Dana’s mother had just made the same horrible mistake that would lead to her same horrible death.  The same horrible death that Dana couldn’t do a goddamn thing to stop.  Once again – just as had been the case when she’d been four years old – Dana found herself completely powerless to wake up from this awful nightmare.  ‘Jesus Christ,’ Sara Whitestone breathed, laughing nervously.  ‘You scared the shit out of me, babe.  I thought you broke your neck in there or something.  Hurry up and come back to bed already.’
    Turning on her heel, Sara Whitestone then walked back to the master bedroom with her satin night robe flowing behind her in the narrow hallway like the train on an elaborate wedding dress.  Fifteen seconds later, the monster followed her out into the darkness and loomed in the doorway of Sara’s bedroom, just another seemingly harmless shadow in the night. 
    Without warning, Dana’s body suddenly vaulted down the hallway at great speed; moved by an unseen force that positioned her just as easily as a chess player positions a pawn.  In the blink of an eye, Dana was standing directly behind the monster, close enough to reach out and touch him had she been able to control her arms.  From this distance, she could actually smell the murdering bastard.  Smell the pure evil wafting off his body.  A sickening combination of vinegar and battery acid and rotting meat that turned her stomach inside out. 
    Inside the bedroom, Sara Whitestone lay on her side in the king-sized bed, dressed in only a flimsy off-white negligee now, the night robe she’d been wearing a moment earlier dripping from the doorknob of the closet like strands of shimmering silver garland dripping from the branches of a beautifully decorated Christmas tree.  She’d propped up her pretty head coquettishly on one small hand.
    Sara smiled at the monster through the darkness.  ‘You just gonna stay out there all night or are you gonna come keep me company in this big old bed, lover boy?’
    When the monster crossed the threshold of the master bedroom, Sara Whitestone bolted upright in horror as she suddenly realised he was not her husband.  A tiny squeak escaped her lips, but she was much too stunned to scream immediately. 
    Taking in a deep breath that expanded her birdlike chest nearly to the point of bursting, Sara finally let out a loud, earsplitting wail that caused the monster to race across the room and clamp a large gloved hand over her mouth.  ‘Shut the fuck up, bitch,’ he hissed, spraying hot saliva all over Sara’s smooth cheek.  ‘One more sound and I’ll chop up your precious goddamn son into so many pieces that they won’t be able to put him back together again for the funeral.’
    Sara Whitestone squirmed in the monster’s strong grasp, an impotent little field mouse struggling to escape an eagle’s powerful talons.  Smiling, Nathan Stiedowe leaned down into her face.  His perfectly even teeth sparkled brightly in the darkness, emitting an eerie, almost phosphorescent light.  ‘Tell me something,’