Based loosely on true events.
As I struggle to push my tangled hair away from my face, I can feel the cuts on my arms. From the brambles in the woods, from the trees trunks I brushed against in my haste.
They sting at the movement, splitting the scabs, fresh blood oozing against my skin.
There are twigs and leaves in my hair, snared in it’s weight. Water trickling underneath my shirt, down my back.
Through the tears that blur my vision, through the pain that has grasped my heart, I can hear another voice. Pushing me and willing me forward, to stumble through the darkness, to the light.
I’d already come so far trying to escape the pain. With no moon to light up the night, I have done no more than circled my own existence, trying to find the right path, trying to find the meaning.
As I cross streams, and jump over fallen branches, my heart labouring against the exercise, my mind is rushing in a million directions. Disbelief, regret, sadness, and rage.
15 years of marriage destroyed in a heartbeat.
I walked in the door to find you in the arms of another. A look of contentment on your face, something I know has been missing from you and I for a long time. I know things were never easy. I know there were days you regretted ever introducing yourself to me, that night. But I also know that there have been days when things have been perfect. When nothing could have come between us.
I don’t understand. I can’t even begin to comprehend why you would do that to me. To us.
Was it that I wasn’t a good enough housekeeper, was it that I wasn’t sexually adventurous? Was it because I occasionally burnt dinner, or because I wasn’t a perfect size 8 dress size?
Please tell me this isn’t happening. Please tell me I didn’t see that with my very own eyes. Please tell me that I was somehow delusional. Please tell me that you weren’t naked and smiling into her eyes. Without a care in the world. Without a worry passing through your mind.
You didn’t even look remorseful when you saw me standing in the doorway. Nor did you try to stop me when i spun and ran from the house we’d shared for so long. I heard laughter as I sprinted further and further away from you.
Please tell me that it wasn’t you. That you weren’t enjoying seeing the torment and pain that would have shown so clearly in my eyes.
As I stand in the cold night air now, with raindrops falling on my head and shoulders, mixing with the tears on my face, a shudder running through my frame. I keep seeing the look on your face in my mind as I move forward.
Here comes the pain, here comes me wishing things had never changed, and she was never right there in your arms tonight.
I fall to my knees, wrapping my arms protectively around myself. I close my eyes against the tears, screaming into the darkness. Outraged at my naivety. Angry at you, for allowing me to find you in that position.
There was no warning, no advance knowledge that you weren’t satisfied. You’d smiled and kissed me goodbye this morning before I went to work. The past week had been ideal.
I don’t understand.
I lay down on my side, bringing my knees up to my chest. Hugging them to myself. My face half buried in the wet leaf litter that had fallen on the ground. Goosebumps on every inch of my skin.
I allowed the pain to swallow what was left of me. I closed my eyes and sobbed, for what was, and what could have been.
If only you could have known, that tonight was to be a celebration. Of a new life formed. Of the promise of a better tomorrow.
The small black and white picture tucked safely into my handbag, which was at this very moment hanging from the hook inside the back door. The bottle of wine in the cooler on the kitchen table.
The flickering heartbeat I had seen on the screen at the doctor’s office, confirmation of the life we had created together, against all odds.
We were told we would never conceive. That we could never be parents. Never hold a newborn baby in our arms.
In what felt like moments of time passing, the dreary light of a rain washed morning had risen. The blackness moment by moment turning into a murky grey.
Screaming again, I let wave after wave of anger wash over me. Washing away the pain. Washing away the hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach.
I stood and brushed off the bracken from my arms.
I didn’t recognise where I was. I had never been here before, but like most things, if you walk far enough in one direction, you would eventually find signs of life.
I headed towards where the light seemed brighter, sparks of anger affecting my vision, spurring me forward. I trudged through the mud, drops of water falling from the trees above me.
I swiped the hair from my face where it lay, smearing mud across my face. I could feel the dirt beneath my nails. A feeling I wasn’t overly comfortable with.
With every step my resolve strengthened. You may never have shown me the loyalty I deserved, and I would make sure that you would never hurt someone the way i was now hurting.
My steps fell into their own cadence. The sound comforting, one step in front of another. One thigh rubbing against the other as I moved towards my ultimate destiny.
One step, two steps, three steps, four. Soon I’ll be walking through that door.
A manic smile lit up my face. It would be entirely too easy. The shotgun was kept in the mudroom, just off the kitchen. The cupboard was never kept locked. The ammunition on the shelf above where the gun stood.
After a time I came to the road. Looking around at the familiar landmarks, I knew I was only a short distance from home. Maybe 15 minutes of walking. I set off in the right direction, one foot in front of the other.
Without the protection of the trees from the rain, i was soon soaked through, from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.
My feet squelched with every step, adding another comforting sound to the many surrounding me. The early morning birds were waking up, and singing their songs, the frogs in the drains on either side of the roads, were grumbling against my intrusion.
Here Comes Goodbye.
I grinned again. I rubbed my hand across my stomach, and with a grimace, I strode forward a little faster.
My thoughts ran back to what i had witnessed last night. To the look on his face. To the shocked expression on her face. She wasn’t familiar, I had never seen her before. She was a cute little thing, I would give her that. She was leaning against his chest in the bed we’d once shared, her short, black, spiky hair in a state of disarray. Her pixie like face alight with mischief, and contentment.
I wondered briefly whether she would be still in bed with him. He must have picked her up and brought her back here, as there was no strange car, at least, not that I could remember. My mind had been preoccupied with delivering my news.
I had run through so many scenarios, so many different ways to tell him, and in the end had decided to just tell him. Show him the sonogram picture, and let his mind deal with it in his own time.
I knew that this baby was a miracle. It was never meant to have happened. Was apparently medically impossible. But it had defied the odds.
Strange how with the creation of one life, another had to die.
I rounded the corner, and saw the familiar mailbox, drunkenly leaning to the left, with it’s door hanging open in the breeze. I could see the water drip from the bottom of the door, in a slow steady rhythm.
One step, two step, three step, four. Footsteps on the mudroom floor.
I slowly reached for the door to the mudroom, slowly pushing it forward. Willing it to stay silent in the damp morning air.
On my toes I inched toward the gun cupboard, and the shotgun held within. The door stood partially open. Another bonus. So many things going my way.
I hooked a finger into the handle and pulled it open, slowly slowly.
And there it was. The double barrel shotgun used mainly to kill vermin, the occasional raccoon, maybe a rabbit or 2.
I reached for it, and weighed it in my hands. It’s familiar weight adding to the grin on my face.
With my other hand I clasped 4 shells.
I backed silently outside. I cracked the barrels, and loaded 2 shells, dropping the other 2 into my pocket.
Flicking the barrel up it locked into place. I pulled both hammers back, and then walked into the house.
I could hear him snoring in the bedroom. The deep timbre I recognised. He’d been drinking.
I walked through the kitchen, into the living room, then in the hallway.
At the bedroom door I stopped and looked in. She was still there. My nostrils flared at the smell of sex emanating from the room they both shared.
Hefting the shotgun onto my shoulder, I walked forward, taking aim as I walked. The little homewrecker would die first.
Standing with my feet braced against the recoil I knew would come, I aimed at her forehead, and with a short evil laugh I pulled the trigger. I watched her body jump as the pellets hit and exploded into her skin. I watched his eyes fly open and look around in fright, but by then I had the gun aimed at his nose, as I squeezed the second trigger.
His head was literally blown apart. Blood and gore spattering the wall behind him, combining with hers, as the blood began to flow from their bodies.
Their bodies twitched as the final beats of their hearts happened. Then all was still.
I walked to the edge of the bed where he lay, I lifted his hand, kissing the back, before jamming it into his own skull.
I stood for a long time surveying the carnage. I briefly considered reloading the gun and shooting them again, but there would be no pleasure.
Whistling, I walked away from the man who had betrayed me and the slut he had chosen, back to the mudroom. I replaced the 2 shells on the shelf, and the gun in the cupboard.
I then reached for the revolver on the shelf. I knew it was always loaded. But that the first chamber was a blank. In case we’d ever needed it, it was always ready.
Holding it in my hand, I walked into the dull morning light.
I knelt in the middle of the lawn, the mud and water soaking my knees, and putting a chill in my bones.
With a final chuckle, I placed the barrel in my mouth, pointing at the top of my head, with one finger on the trigger, my other waved it’s final one finger salute.