A Slice of Life

A Slice of Life

Have I killed you?

You’re lying on the kitchen floor. The blood seems to be everywhere. Some of it mine, most of it yours. I’m breathing hard, the air burns my lungs as a gasp for it. I feel like I’ve run a mile but it was just three steps. One, to the draining board, and two to you.

I cling onto the back of a chair. It’s the only thing keeping me on my feet. I should phone for an ambulance but I can’t move. The thought that they might save you sends chills through my heart.

I can see your face. You look as though you are sleeping. Why didn’t you suffer? You just looked surprised then a bit disbelieving. You didn’t think that I’d fight back did you? To be honest neither did I, I just lashed out. I never expected to make contact, but the carving knife was in my hand and then it was in you. You pushed yourself away from me, fell to the floor, your head bounced off the tiles. Then that look…

The knife is still in my hand. I lift it into the light and study it, though I'm not sure why. The blood clings to the blade, and is starting to congeal around the base of the handle. I can smell it. Nausea rises in my throat, the blood rushes in my ears, I feel light headed. Hell, what do I do now?

Still watching you I put the knife back on the draining board. I should wash it. You hate having dirty things left there. I should clean up the rest of the mess too. You will punish me if I don’t.

I can’t bear to look anymore. I close my eyes and see you running your fingers over the surfaces then checking them for any trace of dirt. I could never do anything right for you. If you found anything which displeased you, you would let loose your fury and lash me with your criticism, when all I wanted was your love.

Did it ever cross your mind that you hurt me? Did you care at all? What gave you the right?

There is a sound behind me. My heart stops as the door opens.

A tiny voice.
“Mummy?”

I turn slowly to look at her.
She comes to me and takes my hand. My fingers leave blood prints on her perfect skin.

“What’s wrong with granny?”

A lump rises in my throat, tears well up in my eyes and spill down my cheeks.
I hold her hand tight.

“It’s ok, she just had an accident.”

I take her back through the door and we walk away from the mess my mother in law has made on the floor.

This time I’m not going to tidy up.