A Wish

A Wish

At this point, she wasn’t living - she was just alive. This is not a world that people should experience. Her ears caught the last few ticks before nine. She just finished laying the napkins next to the steaming dish. She missed the man who’d bring her the sweet scented petals. She missed the long awaited sinking into his arms. He had become so different. It was about a year ago since he’d last come home like that. A year ago since he’d laid the flowers on his mother’s stone. Now he’s just trapped at the bottom of any bottle he can lay his hand on. And so those sweet scented petals turned to violence. He would kick down the door and start cussing so loud the glass would shatter. The floor would scar where the shards of broken plates and cups would fall from his unbalanced swinging. It became such a frequent thing the neighbours stopped knocking on the door. Maybe they couldn’t see through her lies. Or maybe they did and they just didn’t care. No one gave the impression they did. Everyone would just accept the half-hearted “I’m fine”, she would fight to mumble out. Maybe she just rehearsed it enough times it became believable. She effortlessly sipped at her coffee as she tried to remember the last time she had performed her act; the last time neighbours came.

Her hair stood up as she recalled that evening. She tilted her head slightly to the left just enough to let a minor crack echo as her mind floods with countless memories. Her already red and purple knees had scraped the floor, tearing apart old scars and ripping open new ones. The floor had stained red as the rest of her body fell, following almost the exact path of the knees. But she didn’t reach for her knees because that felt like nothing compared to her face. She had brought her hands to her cheek, and ever so slightly tugged them away at the sting of the cold. Blood rushed to her then red face as she began to crawl towards the door. He had intertwined his hand with her hair almost like he was mixing together a recipe. Her neck snapped backwards as he pulled his bloodied hand towards his chest. Breathing turned to wheezing as his hand tightened around her throat. Her mind was racing with what to do. She had flung one hand to her head, persistently trying to lessen the strain of her now hairless head. She used the other to dig her nails into his finger just so she can get a breath. She had begun to feel dizzy with her skin turning pale. Her efforts had become weaker and weaker until her arms just sunk beside her. Her vision shrunk as keeping her eyes open became harder and harder. He unclenched both his hands and watched as she her body met the floor. He walked away to yet another bottle and sunk into the couch. All the pain had rushed through her body when she finally creaked open her eyes again. She staggered back to her feet and limped over to where he had laid and muttered, “I’m sorry”.

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