Status: Complete.
Photograph
1/1
Tick-tock. Tick-tock.
Red-rimmed eyes stared almost in a trance as the seconds hand slowly made its way around the clock. She sat at the kitchen table, leaning forward with her hands entangled in her hair. Her right leg bounced anxiously underneath the table, the only visible movement she expressed. An hour had passed, her eyes glued to the clock the entire time, and yet it felt as though an eternity had slipped through her fingers. With each agonizing second, she grew more and more restless, and she began to fidget nervously in her seat. Why weren't they home yet? They said they'd be back by eleven, and it's going on eleven forty-five. She felt jittery, and she wanted nothing more than to just scream, pull her hair out, throw something against the wall. And the clock ticked away leisurely, unconcerned about the torture the girl was sitting through.
Tick-tock. Tick-tock.
Finally, the sound of car doors slamming shut rang in her ears, and she shot up from the table. She had just reached the entryway when the front door began to open. In walked the Lockwoods, grins on their faces. As they shrugged off their coats, their eyes landed on the girl. Mrs. Lockwood smiled at her.
"Sorry we're a bit late, Sarah," she apologized with a sheepish grin. She glanced up at her husband with a coy smile. "Something came up." Sarah pressed her lips together tightly, but remained silent, opting to nod instead. Mrs. Lockwood hung up her coat on the coat rack and excused herself, wishing to bid her children goodnight. Sarah watched silently as she disappeared up the stairs before turning to Mr. Lockwood.
"The kids weren't too much of a handful, I hope," he commented, hanging up his own coat. He turned around to say something else, but was cut off by Sarah.
"We need to talk," she said sternly and dragged him by his tie into the kitchen, ignoring the man's string of curses.
"What the hell is your problem?" he exclaimed, fixing his tie when she released him.
She whipped around and glared up at him. "What's my problem? What the hell is your problem?!" Sarah whispered fiercely, eyes furious.
"What are you talking about?" Mr. Lockwood whispered back, not understanding what she meant.
Sarah turned to the table and swiped the photograph from the surface, thrusting it in his face. "This!" she cried, waving it around for emphasis. He snatched it out of her hand in annoyance before holding it up and examining it. His eyes grew wide once he realized what it was.
"Where did you find this?" he asked quietly.
"In your desk drawer. I was looking for some scissors, and instead I found this. What was it even doing in there, Thomas? You said you were going to get rid of it!"
The photograph in question was one a married man should never have. A woman, as nude as the day she was born, posed seductively for the camera, smiling mischievously at the man behind it, and she was not his wife. No, the woman in the photograph was the nineteen-year-old babysitter standing in front of him, her hazel eyes, although burning with anger, staring up at him, wide and scared. Thomas Lockwood remained silent, unsure of what to say. He knew it was wrong to keep it. Hell, he knew it was wrong to even have that sort of relationship with Sarah, yet he did it anyway, and this is the consequence that came with it all. He had no other reason as to why he kept it, his only excuse being he never got around to discarding it. The secret lovers stared at each other in terrified silence, the only sound in the kitchen being the continuous ticking of the clock above them.
Tick-tock. Tick-tock.
"There's no excuse," Thomas finally answered, rubbing his face with his free hand. Hot tears filled Sarah's eyes and her lips began to tremble. A small whimper escaped her, and soon she was breaking down in frightened sobs. Thomas quickly pulled her into his chest, holding her to him and trying to calm her. Her arms wrapped around him and she clutched his shirt in her hands tightly, her sobs muffled in his chest. He cooed softly in her ear, promising her that everything would be alright, although he wasn't so sure of that himself.
"How can you say that?" she hiccupped, sniffling pathetically. "What if Karen saw it?"
He didn't have an answer for that, so he simply kissed the top of her head and rubbed her back soothingly. They both jumped at the sound of heels clacking down the steps, and quickly they ripped themselves from the other, putting an appropriate amount of distance between them. Karen Lockwood entered the kitchen with a content smile on her face. She stopped upon seeing the tear-stained face of her babysitter.
"Sarah, sweetheart, what's the matter?" she asked, that motherly concern evident in her voice.
Sarah's eyes flickered over to Thomas for a split second before returning to her lover's wife. "Nothing," she replied, "it's just, um..." she trailed off, at a loss for words.
"Sarah here has been having a little tiff with one of her friends, and needless to say it's really upset her. She just needed someone to talk to for a little bit," Thomas explained coolly, crumpling the photograph in his hand and stuffing it in his pocket discretely.
Karen glanced at her husband and then back at Sarah. "Oh, honey, you know you can always come to us about that stuff," she told her, smiling and giving her a quick hug. Sarah accepted it nervously. "Oh! I almost forgot, let me go get my purse so I can pay you for tonight, Sarah."
"Oh, no no. Today was your anniversary, I couldn't ask you for money," Sarah interjected, holding up her hands. She smiled as best she could at her. "Besides, I'm always happy to watch Collin and Lilly."
Karen smiled at her and nodded. She turned to her husband and planted a soft kiss on his cheek. "You should hurry if you want to say goodnight to the children," she warned, and he nodded in understanding. He said goodnight to Sarah, staring into her eyes for a second too long, and left the kitchen to say goodnight to his children. Sarah shifted from one foot to the other uncomfortably, unsure of what to do next. Karen walked over to the refrigerator and opened the door. She asked if Sarah wanted anything to drink, to which she politely declined, and claimed that it was late and she needed to get back home. As Sarah began to exit the kitchen, Karen called out to her. "Oh, and Sarah? One more thing." She paused in the doorway, glancing back over to her employer.
"Yes, Mrs. Lockwood?"
Karen closed the refrigerator door, water bottle in hand, and smiled at her babysitter. "Perhaps it's best to save those sort of photographs for men who aren't married and have children."
Her heart skipped a beat, and a cold sweat broke out over her entire body. She stood frozen in the doorway, unable to move. She felt trapped under Karen Lockwood's gaze, left with nothing to do other than stare back with the frightened eyes of a child. For the third time that night, the room fell silent, save for that damn clock on the wall.
Tick-tock. Tick-tock.
"Yes, Mrs. Lockwood."
Red-rimmed eyes stared almost in a trance as the seconds hand slowly made its way around the clock. She sat at the kitchen table, leaning forward with her hands entangled in her hair. Her right leg bounced anxiously underneath the table, the only visible movement she expressed. An hour had passed, her eyes glued to the clock the entire time, and yet it felt as though an eternity had slipped through her fingers. With each agonizing second, she grew more and more restless, and she began to fidget nervously in her seat. Why weren't they home yet? They said they'd be back by eleven, and it's going on eleven forty-five. She felt jittery, and she wanted nothing more than to just scream, pull her hair out, throw something against the wall. And the clock ticked away leisurely, unconcerned about the torture the girl was sitting through.
Tick-tock. Tick-tock.
Finally, the sound of car doors slamming shut rang in her ears, and she shot up from the table. She had just reached the entryway when the front door began to open. In walked the Lockwoods, grins on their faces. As they shrugged off their coats, their eyes landed on the girl. Mrs. Lockwood smiled at her.
"Sorry we're a bit late, Sarah," she apologized with a sheepish grin. She glanced up at her husband with a coy smile. "Something came up." Sarah pressed her lips together tightly, but remained silent, opting to nod instead. Mrs. Lockwood hung up her coat on the coat rack and excused herself, wishing to bid her children goodnight. Sarah watched silently as she disappeared up the stairs before turning to Mr. Lockwood.
"The kids weren't too much of a handful, I hope," he commented, hanging up his own coat. He turned around to say something else, but was cut off by Sarah.
"We need to talk," she said sternly and dragged him by his tie into the kitchen, ignoring the man's string of curses.
"What the hell is your problem?" he exclaimed, fixing his tie when she released him.
She whipped around and glared up at him. "What's my problem? What the hell is your problem?!" Sarah whispered fiercely, eyes furious.
"What are you talking about?" Mr. Lockwood whispered back, not understanding what she meant.
Sarah turned to the table and swiped the photograph from the surface, thrusting it in his face. "This!" she cried, waving it around for emphasis. He snatched it out of her hand in annoyance before holding it up and examining it. His eyes grew wide once he realized what it was.
"Where did you find this?" he asked quietly.
"In your desk drawer. I was looking for some scissors, and instead I found this. What was it even doing in there, Thomas? You said you were going to get rid of it!"
The photograph in question was one a married man should never have. A woman, as nude as the day she was born, posed seductively for the camera, smiling mischievously at the man behind it, and she was not his wife. No, the woman in the photograph was the nineteen-year-old babysitter standing in front of him, her hazel eyes, although burning with anger, staring up at him, wide and scared. Thomas Lockwood remained silent, unsure of what to say. He knew it was wrong to keep it. Hell, he knew it was wrong to even have that sort of relationship with Sarah, yet he did it anyway, and this is the consequence that came with it all. He had no other reason as to why he kept it, his only excuse being he never got around to discarding it. The secret lovers stared at each other in terrified silence, the only sound in the kitchen being the continuous ticking of the clock above them.
Tick-tock. Tick-tock.
"There's no excuse," Thomas finally answered, rubbing his face with his free hand. Hot tears filled Sarah's eyes and her lips began to tremble. A small whimper escaped her, and soon she was breaking down in frightened sobs. Thomas quickly pulled her into his chest, holding her to him and trying to calm her. Her arms wrapped around him and she clutched his shirt in her hands tightly, her sobs muffled in his chest. He cooed softly in her ear, promising her that everything would be alright, although he wasn't so sure of that himself.
"How can you say that?" she hiccupped, sniffling pathetically. "What if Karen saw it?"
He didn't have an answer for that, so he simply kissed the top of her head and rubbed her back soothingly. They both jumped at the sound of heels clacking down the steps, and quickly they ripped themselves from the other, putting an appropriate amount of distance between them. Karen Lockwood entered the kitchen with a content smile on her face. She stopped upon seeing the tear-stained face of her babysitter.
"Sarah, sweetheart, what's the matter?" she asked, that motherly concern evident in her voice.
Sarah's eyes flickered over to Thomas for a split second before returning to her lover's wife. "Nothing," she replied, "it's just, um..." she trailed off, at a loss for words.
"Sarah here has been having a little tiff with one of her friends, and needless to say it's really upset her. She just needed someone to talk to for a little bit," Thomas explained coolly, crumpling the photograph in his hand and stuffing it in his pocket discretely.
Karen glanced at her husband and then back at Sarah. "Oh, honey, you know you can always come to us about that stuff," she told her, smiling and giving her a quick hug. Sarah accepted it nervously. "Oh! I almost forgot, let me go get my purse so I can pay you for tonight, Sarah."
"Oh, no no. Today was your anniversary, I couldn't ask you for money," Sarah interjected, holding up her hands. She smiled as best she could at her. "Besides, I'm always happy to watch Collin and Lilly."
Karen smiled at her and nodded. She turned to her husband and planted a soft kiss on his cheek. "You should hurry if you want to say goodnight to the children," she warned, and he nodded in understanding. He said goodnight to Sarah, staring into her eyes for a second too long, and left the kitchen to say goodnight to his children. Sarah shifted from one foot to the other uncomfortably, unsure of what to do next. Karen walked over to the refrigerator and opened the door. She asked if Sarah wanted anything to drink, to which she politely declined, and claimed that it was late and she needed to get back home. As Sarah began to exit the kitchen, Karen called out to her. "Oh, and Sarah? One more thing." She paused in the doorway, glancing back over to her employer.
"Yes, Mrs. Lockwood?"
Karen closed the refrigerator door, water bottle in hand, and smiled at her babysitter. "Perhaps it's best to save those sort of photographs for men who aren't married and have children."
Her heart skipped a beat, and a cold sweat broke out over her entire body. She stood frozen in the doorway, unable to move. She felt trapped under Karen Lockwood's gaze, left with nothing to do other than stare back with the frightened eyes of a child. For the third time that night, the room fell silent, save for that damn clock on the wall.
Tick-tock. Tick-tock.
"Yes, Mrs. Lockwood."