Result

&;#65279;The Result
George stood with his underpants at half mast; a very odd look on his
face. He had
an erection which bobbed slightly, as he did a funny sort of half-dance
half-stagger
around the room.
'George, please.' Annie begged giggling and clutching at her sides
'I'll wet myself
if you don't stop that'.
She looked across the room at her ex-husband. George was leaning
slightly to one
side, his right arm wrapped across his body, clutching desperately at
his left, his
eyes bulging. His face was very red, his flesh turning a rare shade of
puce. With his
skin covered in a film of sweat, beads of perspiration stood to
attention on his top
lip and brow. He began spluttering, grasping at his throat, his mouth
opening and
closing wildly, like a demented goldfish.
Annie realised with sudden clarity that George wasn't playing the
fool.
'Shit!' Her curse was barely audible as George made a funny strangled
sound,
whispered her name, staggered to the wall and, very gradually, slid
down it in an
odd kind of slow motion effect.
'Ann-ie help me', He spoke in strange singsong fashion, his voice
strained with
pain. Fear was reflected in his eyes which pleaded silently. Annie knew
he was in
trouble. 'Dammit!' She hadn't planned for it to be like this.
'George, George, what should I do?' she asked looking around
frantically, as if the
answers to her questions might be found lying somewhere in the
room
'Do you need something? Should I call someone? Oh God, Oh
George....'
Annie flustered for several minutes, as George lay slumped against the
wall in
obvious pain. This was going to be harder than she expected. She'd
thought it
would be easy to kill the bastard, or at least to watch him die. She'd
even
anticipated that she might actually enjoy it. Well, perhaps not enjoy
exactly, but ...
Damn, it had all seemed so clear cut and simple when she'd planned it.
She hadn't
reckoned on it being quite this hard.
Annie stepped backwards and felt the edge of the mattress against the
back of her
knees. Automatically she sat on the bed, which groaned slightly, the
springs
protesting beneath her weight. In the distance she could still hear
George, his frantic
gasps for breath, but they were drowned out by the persistent thumping
of her own
heart against her ribs, and the whooshing of her blood as it drained
from her face.
She felt faint.
'Not now' she begged silently 'please, not now'.
She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to concentrate on her
breathing. 'In
through the nose and out through the mouth ' she reminded herself,
recalling the
countless relaxation classes she had endured, each class taken in a
vain attempt to
gain control over the anxieties her marriage to George had produced.
Despite her
best efforts, her mouth was drying with the effects of panic
induced
hyperventilation. She breathed deeply a few more times, until she was
confident the
room was slowing to a steady spin and only then did she open her
eyes.
'Not too bad' She sat very still on the edge of the bed, not yet
daring to move.
Tentatively she turned her head and looked dispassionately at George as
he lay, half
propped against the wall. His belly protruded over the top half of his
legs,
obliterating any sight of his penis, but Annie guessed that his bobbing
erection was
now a thing of the past. She expected his balls were shrivelled and
trying their
hardest to crawl up inside his pain-wracked body as he sat there, all
sweaty and
panting. Men were such funny creatures.
'Oh George' she said sadly, shaking her head.
George of course said nothing. He just gasped for breath, still trying,
albeit feebly,
to gesture for Annie to summon help.
'It didn't have to be like this you know.' She looked at him. 'What
happened to us,
Georgie-boy? We could have...well... Things could have been so very
different.'

Annie stared at the wall just above his head, a glazed expression on
her face. A
faint smile played at the corners of her mouth, a tear welling at the
edge of her left
eye. 'We were special Georgie, you and I. I always loved you, you know
that don't
you?' She licked her lips, a seductive move in the old days, now an
unconscious act
to wet her dry mouth. George still said nothing as Annie continued
wistfully 'How
I loved you...'
She drifted within her own thoughts for several seconds, not noticing
the passing
of time, nor the guttural sounds emanating from her dying ex-husband.
The clock
in the room ticked on, tick- tock, tick-tock but neither Annie nor
George heard a
sound, other than the unspoken words milling around inside their
heads.

Unconcerned at the fact that she, a sixty-five-year-old woman, was
alone in a hotel
room with her ex-husband; both of them in a state of undress and he
apparently in
the throes of death, Annie lay face down on the bed, her feet resting
on the pillows.
Facing towards the foot of the bed, she propped herself up on one
elbow, cupping
her chin in her upturned palm. Smoothing her chemise down over her hips
with her
free hand, she looked down at George whose lips now had a decidedly
blue tinge
about them. The redness of a few minutes ago had gone from his face, to
be
replaced with a greenish-grey pallor. His skin was waxy; he didn't look
good at all.
'Does it hurt George?' she asked, her voice filled with concern.
George struggled to reply, but no intelligible sound came from his
lips.
'I expect it does ... I bloody well hope it does' she added spitefully
'it's no more
than you deserve'

George stared dolefully at his ex-wife and at that moment he realised
she was not
going to get help. She was going to sit there and let him die. She was
probably going
to watch the whole thing. Lord knows, The bitch was probably going to
talk him
through it. He wanted to laugh at the prospect of Annie talking him to
death. It used
to be their little joke...and now? Now it was becoming a bloody
prophecy.
Pain jolted through his body, jerking him back to reality, and he began
to listen to
Annie's voice. She was saying something about how he deserved
everything he got
for what he had done...what was she on about? He tried to concentrate,
tried fixing
his eyes on something immoveable. The curtains. But the flowery fabric
blurred
with the pain and made him nauseous as it rippled and waved before him.
He
blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision, his head pounding, he had
the mother of
all headaches. The sweat running down his back was rancid, making his
skin itch
horribly. He felt certain incontinence was only moments away. It
occurred to him,
but only very briefly, that he may well be dying. But still Annie
continued to talk.
'What about all those beatings? Are you sorry for all the times you
made me wear
those bruises like some prize fighter? The black eyes, and the lies. Oh
the lies I had
to tell to keep your nasty little secrets. Did you ever think about
those times George?
Did you?'
No, if truth were told, he didn't. And anyway, she 'd deserved
everything she'd
got. Bloody Women, they were all the same.
George didn't say a word, but undaunted, Annie continued
'And always leaving with me with no money, how did you expect me to
feed and
clothe your kids? Money didn't grow on trees you know. God alone knows
how we
survived and you giving up your damn job every time you had a fancy to,
or when
you just plain didn't feel like getting up in the morning and going to
work. Oh of
course they didn't understand you, didn't value your expertise...that
was it wasn't
it? Bloody excuses, one after another, and not one of them worth a
....' Annie
sighed. 'There's one thing I really can't forgive you for' she told him
'And that's
your poor father. How could you treat him like that? How could you? He
didn't
deserve a son like you. And after all that he'd done for you...how do
you repay
him?' She threw him a scathing look. George noticed a small ball of
spittle
collecting in the corner of her mouth and found himself unable to tear
his eyes away
as it wobbled precariously.
'Even when he was gone you couldn't do the right thing could you? You
knew
what he wanted. You'd known all along that the money was meant to make
life
easier for his grandchildren. You'd heard him say it often enough. What
was the
matter with you? Couldn't you stand to think of your kids being
financially secure?
You just couldn't resist. One look at the figures in that bank book and
you sprouted
pound signs for eyes.'
George was puzzled. How had she figured it out, about the money? He'd
been so
careful...
George drifted in and out of consciousness and all the while Annie
talked. Her
voice never wavered, it was as if she were reading from a list, a list
of his
misdemeanours, and a very long list at that. He was surprised to
realise Annie was
still really angry, even after all this time. It was also rather
obvious that she was a
lot smarter than he'd ever given her credit for being. He regretted
underestimating
her. It was proving to be a costly mistake.
George realised that he was dying and wondered why he was wasting his
last
seconds on such petty thoughts? His whole life was supposed to flash
before his
eyes and when it didn't, he felt cheated.
He was aware of Annie's voice, much clearer now, and thought he could
smell her
perfume. He forced himself to open his eyes and was surprised to find
her lying on
the floor beside him. She was stroking his face very gently and almost
crooning as
though singing a lullaby to a young baby. Her lips grazed the skin on
his shoulder
and he wanted to hold her, to tell her he was sorry, that he loved
her....but as Annie
kissed his eyes, it was too late and George slipped away.