I feel lonely. She thought it to herself for the 100th time that day. Even amongst the stuff of others. The stuff she would trip over. The stuff in every freaking corner. Even amongst their mutters and moans, their words, their letters. Alone.
She rationalized. She generalized. Of course, everyone secretly feels this way.
Of course, they do.
Tommy didn't pay his half of the rent again yesterday.
Of course not. She saw it coming, watching him pretending it was not.
He tried to give her 100 dollars.
"Way to go, Mr. Coporate Confrence-Call."
She was disgusted with him. With herself. She had seen it coming.
An apple a day keeps the doctor away...
She remembers the chanting voice of her first grade teacher. Mrs. McDonald. She was so old and she would move around the classroom so fast. She would go home and ask her grandparents why they did not.
She believed in that little rhyme.
She knew she was human. She knew she had to eat. And she hated the doctor.
Tommy said to her, "I could turn blue talking to you and you would still not listen."
And when she looked at him, it only confirmed the obvious.
"Get out of this house."
Daddy used to bang his fist on the dining room table and boy, it would scare the hell out of her. It was heart-stopping, scary shit.
Do you know how much fucking money the roof over your heads cost?
Do you?
Do you?
Do you?
She learned quickly to never look up. Daddy's mouth was so large. And his stained teeth were long and menacing. He looked like the wolf that ate Little Red Riding Hood's granny.
It was just smarter to keep an eye on his fist, so at least you could see when it was coming your way.
For a long time, Tommy sat in the couch, instead of leaving.
"Let's go for a drive."
"No."
"Let's go for a drive."
"No."
"I am going for a drive," he said.
And he did.
And when Tommy came home, he went upstairs to sleep, while she sat on the couch staring at the blank teleivison screen.
Because there was no cable.
She would pick up the baby when he cried. But he did nothing to elevate her loneliness. This mindless, drooling thing.
She would walk around the house holding him.
When she kicked one of Tommy's shoes across the kitchen floor, the sudden movement made the baby spit up; some of it landing on her retreating foot.
She took him over to the couch and when she was done changing him; she placed a pillow over his face.
But that is not how she killed the baby.
She rationalized. She generalized. Of course, everyone secretly feels this way.
Of course, they do.
Tommy didn't pay his half of the rent again yesterday.
Of course not. She saw it coming, watching him pretending it was not.
He tried to give her 100 dollars.
"Way to go, Mr. Coporate Confrence-Call."
She was disgusted with him. With herself. She had seen it coming.
An apple a day keeps the doctor away...
She remembers the chanting voice of her first grade teacher. Mrs. McDonald. She was so old and she would move around the classroom so fast. She would go home and ask her grandparents why they did not.
She believed in that little rhyme.
She knew she was human. She knew she had to eat. And she hated the doctor.
Tommy said to her, "I could turn blue talking to you and you would still not listen."
And when she looked at him, it only confirmed the obvious.
"Get out of this house."
Daddy used to bang his fist on the dining room table and boy, it would scare the hell out of her. It was heart-stopping, scary shit.
Do you know how much fucking money the roof over your heads cost?
Do you?
Do you?
Do you?
She learned quickly to never look up. Daddy's mouth was so large. And his stained teeth were long and menacing. He looked like the wolf that ate Little Red Riding Hood's granny.
It was just smarter to keep an eye on his fist, so at least you could see when it was coming your way.
For a long time, Tommy sat in the couch, instead of leaving.
"Let's go for a drive."
"No."
"Let's go for a drive."
"No."
"I am going for a drive," he said.
And he did.
And when Tommy came home, he went upstairs to sleep, while she sat on the couch staring at the blank teleivison screen.
Because there was no cable.
She would pick up the baby when he cried. But he did nothing to elevate her loneliness. This mindless, drooling thing.
She would walk around the house holding him.
When she kicked one of Tommy's shoes across the kitchen floor, the sudden movement made the baby spit up; some of it landing on her retreating foot.
She took him over to the couch and when she was done changing him; she placed a pillow over his face.
But that is not how she killed the baby.
Comments
at his sides.
She could see that one fist was more bulged than the other, and before she had time to think, he stabbed her in the chest, taking the baby while she fell to the floor.
There was no crying, and no gasping for air, only running out into the cold january air where tommy slipped on the ice landing on the same knife he just stabbed her with.
The baby could never withstand the cold, and daddy bled to death all over the sidewalk that night.
Q