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As confused and frustrated as a blindfolded boxer, he spun around the room punching wildly. With rage he lashed out madly but struck only thin air. He found more angst, more pain, even more strength, and with a scary banshee scream, threw one last power punch that made contact with the door. Knuckles and wood cracked and splintered, paint chipped and blood splattered. Silence hung like smoke.
“We haven’t been in touch for a long time, he’s—’
“I’ve seen the calls on your mobile,” he bellowed at her and then started up again. He grasped the celebratory drink that they had just shared and it flew through the air. Red wine, like blood, spewed, sprayed and stained as the half empty bottle spun uncontrollably until it smashed against the back wall. The ashtray’s contents were viciously thrown into her face and, without regret, their framed wedding day photograph was grabbed from the mantelpiece and tossed into the roaring flames of the open fire where it shattered and began to burn.
She gracefully wiped the ash from her face and in silence sat still. No remorse or guilt crossed her face.
Her eyes fixed on the burning, curling picture in the flames.
“That’s what you call burning love,” he said as he slowly and without sign
of pain reached into the heat of the fire to retrieve the crumbling remains
of their special day. Instant blisters crawled across his bleeding hand and
the smell of burning flesh and hair hung like the silence.
For a time he stared at the smouldering bits in his palm. She leant forward
to pick up her glass of wine,but before she could reach it, he bent over it and,
glaring at her, sprinkled the contents of his hand into her drink.
“Go on, wash down the death of all these years of our life together. Go on,
swallow the love and trust that we vowed to each other on that day.” He
moved closer. “If that doesn’t choke you, I will.”
He knew it was happening, he was well aware that they were his hands
gripped tight around her throat and that he was guilty of this passion crime,
but still, he felt like an innocent, helpless witness watching from a distance.
There was a sorrowful whimper from her weak body as her last breath failed
its struggle and faded. Her once bright green eyes, now dull and bulging,
rolled back. Gently he laid her head down.
Suddenly he woke with sweat and tears to find her lying beside him. The sheer joy of relief injected instant
energy and excitement into him. He bounced out of bed and pulled the curtains to a new bright sunny
He took a long deep breath and gathered together fresh clothes for the day ahead.
“You stay there, I’ll shower then bring you breakfast in bed.”
He closed his eyes and let the comfort of the shower ease his thoughts of any infidelity. She was his, he was hers, they were together as one. He reached for the body wash which was out of range. He opened his eyes to find it, but instead, saw that the hot water had started the cuts and blisters on his hand bleeding again...
He had a flashback of carrying her upstairs, where he had fallen a few times and her body had thumped onto the staircase and her head had banged against the walls. He tried to blank it out, but a trail of blood followed him into their bedroom where he stood above her naked body, so beautiful, so bruised, so dead.
Suddenly there was the urgent wanting of response from the ringtone of her mobile phone coming from the living room. He quickly ran downstairs and scrambled around searching for the device. He found it.
“Hello… Who…? Brother? I didn’t know she had a brother!”
© Nik Nostalgik January 2016.
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