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Not The End

As the tears dripped down her cheeks, she looked up to find Tommy standing over her, with his hands held securely at his sides.
She could see that one fist was more bulged than the other, and before she had time to think of the trouble, he stabbed her in the chest, taking the baby, while she and the pillow 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, she knew this, when she looked through the window. He was only wearing his diaper and undershirt and the wind was whipping.
She turned on the outdoor light, watching Tommy for the next hour, to make sure he was still breathing.
He had stabbed clean through her left tit. No real damage done.
When the rain started coming, thick with frozen ice, she turned it off and went to bed.
She set her alarm for 4:30 in the morning.
And Tommy was easy to wake-up then, and the baby was blue then.
Inside, she drapped their bedroom blanket over his shoulders and sat down beside him.
"So,how we gonna get rid of it, Tommy?" She pointed to the playpen, where she had put the baby.
Tommy started to cry.
And Tommy started thinking. Where...?

by
jessy & Queenie




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Comments

ticknart said…
I think I'm glad it wasn't gruesome. Although...
Friday, 8 June 2007 at 11:10:00 GMT-4
Karri Bowman said…
poor tommy. it's just not right. remember how sweet he was when he was little? sob.
Thursday, 14 June 2007 at 15:15:00 GMT-4
Anonymous said…
i like this.
Monday, 18 June 2007 at 01:22:00 GMT-4
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