Raw

All of the forces were standing down, awaiting Larry’s instructions to mobilize. He sat at his desk in the home office, his hands laid flat on the blotter. He scoped the front of the house and Wilkins Lane beyond it. When Jennifer pulled up in her bright yellow Camaro convertible, he’d give the go ahead. No doubt, her blonde hair would be flying behind her … She’d never know what hit her, like a Nazi Anschlag.

Right on schedule, the Chevy appeared around the corner and swerved into the driveway. She’d never drive fast like that again, Larry knew – and he pressed the button to send an e-mail to Thelma, a text message to Robert, phoned Samantha. And the others – of course, they’d get the word. Larry walked down the stairs, one step at a time, and sat on the living room chair, looking straight at the door to the garage.

“Good afternoon, darling,” he said when, at last, she opened the door – thank goodness, her pokiness bought him time. He rose from his seat and went over to her – thank goodness, again, that he towered over her. “How was your flight back from San Francisco?”

He noticed that her power of him had evaporated. He felt no stirrings in his pants, he felt no emotion in his heart, just cold-hearted hatred.

“Service on the flight sucked,” she said, scowling. “Last time I pay for business class on a forty-five minute flight. Next time –“

And they all came in, one by one. Thelma, Robert, Samantha, Jerry, Kyle, and Trevor. Behind them was Dr. Feldman and a nursing assistant that Larry didn’t know. They all surrounded Jennifer, each one staring at her.

Jennifer stared at Robert, Jerry, Kyle, and Trevor – and screamed. “Something’s wrong with you all. You’re all conspiring against me. I’m getting out of here –“

But when she ran to the front door, the doctor and the nurse stopped her. “You need to listen to what they say,” the doctor said, “and then we’re taking you to Rehab.”