The demise of one woman.
Her face cleared by the cool water is calm.
She gently and eagerly straightens her bed covers, by repeatedly running her hands over the wrinkled sheets. This smoothing brings calm and resolve until she is pleased with the outcome of the unruffled sheets. The flattened pillows await her touch of care. Now fluffed, the pillows beckon her to lay her head down to rest. She changes from her torn blouse and ripped pants into a soft, warm lavender chenille robe. She eases herself down into the comfort of her bed and waits for sleep, eternal sleep.
Kathy lockhart
Short story by Kathy Lockhart
Read 1140 times
Written on 2006-04-07 at 02:46
Tags Suicide Abuse
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Release
She sat in her tangled bed, her face painted in tears. She was mute and without expression, numb from years of cruelty administered by her husband of 30 years. The room was silent. Dark and silent. Alone once again, she slowly rises, stands beside her bed. She knows where to go. With each deliberate step she moves to the place of freedom. In the glare of the bathroom light she is frightened by the image she sees in the mirror. Hallow eyes blackened by fists of rage look back at her. Blood runs from her nose over her swollen lips to drip off her bruised chin. She moves her battered arm to open the mirrored cabinet door. Reaching in, now with purpose and control, she pops one lid, then another, then another until she has no bottles left capped. Its as though she is a child playing Tiddlywinks, using her thumb to guide one lid after another into the target, a trashcan next to the toilet. Without regret, she pours them into her shaking hands and throws them into her trembling mouth. Bending over the sink, cupping water into her hands from the faucet, she drinks and swallows the pills that will end her suffering. The water washes the blood and tears from her face.Her face cleared by the cool water is calm.
She gently and eagerly straightens her bed covers, by repeatedly running her hands over the wrinkled sheets. This smoothing brings calm and resolve until she is pleased with the outcome of the unruffled sheets. The flattened pillows await her touch of care. Now fluffed, the pillows beckon her to lay her head down to rest. She changes from her torn blouse and ripped pants into a soft, warm lavender chenille robe. She eases herself down into the comfort of her bed and waits for sleep, eternal sleep.
Kathy lockhart
Short story by Kathy Lockhart
Read 1140 times
Written on 2006-04-07 at 02:46
Tags Suicide Abuse
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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lastromantichero |
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Zoya Zaidi |
