I killed her. Did I mean to do it? I'm not really sure. I just know that the entire time I was choking her and looking into her beautiful eyes I saw that shine begin to fade. The moment I stopped she was only able to get a few gasps of air into her lungs before I finally stabbed her. She finally closed her eyes after the fifth stab and fell into a slumber. I left her there on the kitchen floor. I was numb with anger and felt nothing. I came back after an hour and began to shake her. She didn't budge. I picked her up and brought her to the bathroom. I put her into the tub and bathed her. I took her out, brushed her hair, and put on her favorite plaid pink pajamas. I tucked her into bed, gave her a kiss, and placed her left hand with her pearl ring on top of the motherly curve that was there. She looked beautiful. I laid down next to her and brought her close to me.
,
No more blood came from the wounds, but she never woke up. Every night I fell asleep holding her, hoping to feel the rise and fall of her chest or to hear her mumbling in her sleep, but it never happened. For weeks it was like this. I kept her smelling of honey and peaches. I tried to keep her body from going, but flies and maggots just seemed to crawl out of every place they could come from.
I tried so hard to go on with a normal life, but I couldn't find myself to just leave her like that. I never left the house, neighbors asked about us, but I closed the door in their faces. I would do her make up and put her clothes on and set her by the window to seem as she was reading, working, or even watching tv. I even once went out dressed as her to get the mail. It wasn't until a year later that I truly felt alone without her. I missed watching her cook breakfast with messy hair and her pajamas still on. I missed hearing her hum while doing paperwork or while she was in the shower. I missed holding her on the couch and feeling her whole body tense up and the tension built in our shows. Why was I suddenly missing her? After the reason why she was gone? I began to sob on the couch one night and in the fit I threw it all away. It wasn't meant to go that way. I began to feel myself losing my mind and heart without her. A year ago I had been angry at her for being concerned with my drinking habits. I killed her in a drunken rage and the night I broke down I threw it all away for her and the baby. I was beginning to sober up and I was missing her because the alcohol had kept it all away. I realized that I had never meant to kill the one that I loved and the one that I was just beginning to love. I tried to keep her alive in my life, but I knew I could only keep her alive in my heart. I was crazy in love with her and even after death she had driven me crazy. I hear a knock at the door. My nurse enters.
"Are you ready for your pills?". She walks over to me and hands me two cups. One filled with water and another with three pills. I put all the pills in at once and take a bit of water. I open my mouth for her to check and she nods and walks out of my room. I look at the news reporter who had been looking away. She looks to me with a hint of emotion to all of this. She speaks again, "It's been two years since you killed her, five months since your trial and sentencing and you've been in here since then. Do you hope that one day you'll be a free man and move on from this all?"
I look her in the eyes, "If I was to get out of here, I would join her." My voice cracks, "That is the only way I'll be able to move on from all of this. Everyday that I live I continue living without the love of my life and being unable to ever hold my baby. That's not something that I will be able to move on from." I feel a single tear fall. The reporter thanks me for my time and leaves. Maybe one day all the medication I'm saving will take me out. I spit out all the pills I had saved and tuck them into my pillow. I lay down on my bed and whisper aloud to myself and them, "One day we'll be a family again."
I finish typing up the last sentence to my novel and attach it to an email. I scroll down to my editor's name and hit send. I think to myself that I'm crazy for creating a book that people could possibly read one day. I can only hope that it's able to get published. I close my laptop and crawl into bed. I turn off my bed side lamp and close my eyes and wait for sleep to come.
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