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BLOOD ON MY HANDS
By Janine S
I looked down at her angelic face as she struggled for breath. She was but a minute away from death - I could almost see her life force draining out of her as her blue eyes paled and I could sense her fear. She lay in a pool of her own blood and my hands were covered in it from trying to hold her head up out of it. Her hair was coated in shades of red, cascading down to the pool as if it were a waterfall. She gasped for air as her life slipped away from her.
Then she was gone.
I gently lay her head down and braced myself for the preparations to follow.
It had all happened so fast. That very morning, I had awoken with her by my side so full of life. Her energy always amazed me. She was not merely existing - like so many people of our time are prone to do. She was living.
We took our time to rise from our bed; enjoying a relaxing day together unhindered by that vile thing we all call Work. She cooked me breakfast, as she often liked to do when we had these moments to spare with one another. She was a great cook. Like anything she decided to do, she would always do things well. A perfectionist, she was meticulous to the last detail. She made omelettes with all fresh ingredients, and her own special blend of seasonings. The plate was decorated with a fresh twig of parsley. The coffee was brewed just so -- decaffeinated. And she included a small glass of orange juice to ensure our vitamin C intake.
After our hearty breakfast, we showered, dressed and planned our day. It was raining outside--not a deluge--but a gentle rain, enough of a sprinkling to bring the temperature down just low enough to keep most people indoors, but not enough to see everyone housebound. We decided to do a little shopping, then return home to take in a movie on DVD in the comfort of the Lazy Boys.
While we were out and about, we picked up a bottle of wine to go with the movie. A nice Cabernet Sauvignon--one of her favourites. We also purchased some fresh deli cheese, some pate, and some crackers to compliment the wine. It's not quite caviar, but we are slightly more refined than popcorn, skittles and coke here, I'll thank you.
At the video store, I stood back as she picked out a 'Romance' title that she had been girlishly aching to see. I eyed the 'Action' section as she made her selection, and sneaked a longing glance at the 'Comedy' shelves as we passed them to check out our Chick Flick. Ever being the gentleman, I simply smiled courteously as the young female clerk prattled on about what a great movie we had chosen as I silently handed her a $10 bill from my fold. I heeded mother's advice, 'if you have nothing nice to say, say nothing at all'. The mantra had kept me out of trouble thus far.
After stopping for lunch at a nearby cafe, we headed back with our DVD, wine and snacks for an afternoon of relaxation. She uncorked our wine, poured us a glass each, and started the DVD.
Half way through the movie, I got up out of my recliner to use the restroom, and...I am not entirely sure what happened next, but I regained consciousness to find my angelic companion lying still on the hardwood living room floor.
As I looked around, dazed and confused, I noted the bathroom mirror had been smashed and shards of glass littered the linoleum floor. The items on the counter were in disarray, and traces of blood splattered the sink, walls and floor. I deduced that some brutish fiend had managed to knock me out, then dealt her a fatal blow to the head. As I looked around I did not notice anything missing, looking for a burglary gone wrong or some answer as to the atrocity I saw before me.
I saw her chest rise and fall and saw that she still drew breath - and went to her side to offer some comfort. I brushed away wisps of hair from her eyes, and that is when I saw blood on my hands. That is when I saw the blood trickling down and a pool gathering at her side.
I cried. I panicked. I cried some more. I gathered my wits enough to get a blanket to cover her to stop her from going into shock. There was no way to stop the blood flow. I called emergency and asked for an ambulance to be sent out. I waited. I panicked. I waited some more.
She had slipped away before I even heard the sirens. The ambulance logged her as DOA.
I was questioned. I could not recall much detail. I was knocked out too. I didn't exactly know what had happened. No, I did not see the perpetrator. No, I did not know how long she had lain there before I came to - before I called emergency services. No, I did not notice much missing - maybe a bracelet that she owned and usually wore when she was with me. Did I know of any enemies my Mistress had? Or myself? Yeah, maybe it was my wife. Maybe she found out about my Mistress and was enraged. Maybe she suspected me, stalked me, found out about my secret apartment that I had leased for the last 6 months, waited for us as we went to the video store and prepared to ambush us.
The police said they would question my wife.
The next few days were a blur. My wife kicked me out. The autopsy showed that my Mistress had been pregnant when she--you know. The police could not find much evidence at the scene. So they came to one logical conclusion.
It was me.
They took me down to the station and interrogated me. I did not do it. I plead my innocence over and over. They didn't buy it. They stamped the word guilty on my head and put together evidence to confirm it. I was placed under arrest.
Then came my psychiatric evaluation to make sure I was fit for trial. That is quite an experience. You should get an evaluation one time. Just for shits and giggles. It is nothing short of entertaining.
It appears I repressed a few memories. I had patches of blacked out time over a period of two months prior to her--you know.
As the psychiatrist worked with me, I started to recall a few things. I remember her telling me she was pregnant. How she wanted me to leave my wife for her. How I didn't know how to deal with it and felt desperation.
The psychiatrist suspects that it was at that point that the split happened.
I created another personality: one that knew how to deal with the situation I was in.
The one that killed my angelic companion.
It was me.
***The End***
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