A dark room on a dark night

Grace cowered in the corner between the nightstand and the highback chair, the reflection of her blonde hair from the outdoor's twilight the only visible thing in the studio. She felt Howard's boots stomping across the courtyard, entering through the back utility door, galloping up the back stairwell three steps at a time. Like a bloodhound on the scent, coming directly to her. She'd turned out the lights long before assuming her present position, a cat ready to pounce on its prey.

That afternoon she'd witnessed what she'd long suspected: Howard having an affair with Leila, right under her nose, right across the courtyard at the Tarantella Inn. She couldn't believe her husband was stepping out with that easy, slatternly divorcee. Once she could forgive, but she knew from what she witnessed this afternoon how many times Howard had been with Leila, how her binoculars betrayed the shadows bouncing back and forth like a misshapen pendulum -- all from the two narrow windows of her studio apartment.

So she'd retreated to the corner, like a cat, ready to pounce the moment Howard entered the apartment. She heard heavy footsteps, each step louder than the previous, the hard black leather soles of the man's shoes mocking her, daring her to confront him. The key made a staccato sound as he put it in the lock and opened the door. He flicked the light switch -- nothing, no light. She peeked at him from behind the highback chair, saw his 220 pound frame of muscle and ignorance as he called, "Grace, the light switch doesn't work!"

She jumped from behind the chair and landed the heavy steel knife right in the center of his chest. His voice croaked as he fell backward into the outer hallway, turning around in chaotic spasms and falling on his chest, the knife lodging deep in his convulsing body. The convulsions ceased before Grace knew it as he lay in a pool of blood. The walls played out hallucinogenic patterns of dark red on the frozen white walls.

Grace stood in the doorway, her eyes blazing with satiated desire, her claws grasping the doorframe, blood on her hands and her dress. She heard more footsteps -- lighter, more delicate, approaching from around the corner. Leila turned the corner, saw Grace standing there, and then she turned, startled, to face him ...

The story continues with "She turned, startled, to face him."