It’s time for the WordPress weekly writing challenge. And this time the prompt is ‘The Sound of Silence’! Although, the OH might have had something to do with the inspiration for this fictional story, I would just like to assure everyone that no OH’s were harmed in the writing of this post! Honest! 🙂
It really is so red! I gaze down at the pool of blood swimming around my legs. And there is so much of it! It soaks through my jeans, warm and wet on my skin. It’s everywhere – up the kitchen cupboards, all over the floor, on the ceiling. How the fuck did it get up there? A major clean up job is going to be needed, but right now I don’t care. I am relishing the silence.
I look over to the body strewn out on the floor beside me. He looks so peaceful. Makes a bloody change! The pale white-washed skin contrasting with the new crimson colour scheme of the kitchen! Was that a glimpse of movement I catch behind those eyes? No, it can’t be. He’s well and truly dead. I wonder if his soul is still inside, or if it has made an escape already. I am still holding the blood stained knife in my hand. I inspect it and then look over to my handiwork. A single deep slice across the front of his neck. Didn’t see that coming did you, you miserable arse bastard! I catch a glimpse of his back, a patchwork of stab wounds. Okay, maybe I got a bit carried away! I can’t help but smile. I can’t quite believe that I finally did it. I close my eyes, inhaling the smell of blood and appreciating the long yearned for quiet.
If he just learnt when to shut his mouth! Nag, nag, nag … that’s all I ever hear. Nevermind that I do everything around here. Constantly trying to keep him happy. But, NO, nothing’s ever good enough is it? All I had wanted was a bit of peace to read my book. Was that too much to ask? In he walked, demanding his dinner. Droning on about his god-awful day, without a care in the world for what my day had been like. Hello, I’m here! I’m a human being too you know? I cooked his goddamn dinner and made his sandwiches for his lunch tomorrow. The nerve, then he has the gall to complain about his food.
‘Why do you always cook this shit for me? You could make some effort you know? Act, like you give a damn about me!’ he scoffed.
I glared at him, willing him to choke on his ‘shitty’ dinner. But, I bit my tongue and carried on washing up.
‘And, how long do I have to look at this pile of washing for? It’s been here all bloody week?’.
After a few deep breaths I ask calmly, ‘Can you please stop now?’ ‘
And, the state of upstairs, you haven’t even made the bloody beds! What have you been doing all day?’
Oh, only just working, looking after our child, cleaning, washing, food shopping … the list goes on. I had tried to blank him out. I really had. Stop, stop, stop ….. but no, on and on he went. The same as every other night. But, this time something snapped. As he sat there scraping his food around his plate, I made my way over to the knife block and pulled out the sharpest knife I could find. Yes, that should do the job nicely. I was surprised at how calm I was. Smoothly walking up behind him, I put the knife to his throat and … sliced. He had no idea what was coming. And then ….. silence …. pure bliss!
I might regret this in the morning, but right now I’m going to sit my arse on that sofa and read my book in complete peace and quiet.