7. Life just got better - Till a death do us part

It’s two in the morning and Andy is on the couch watching infomercials. Before I arrive I have my story ready, but he is not asking me what happened. I’m standing there dripping on the plush cream carpet like I’ve just crawled out of my own grave, he doesn’t even look at me. When he smiles and says, ‘it’s the one with Jessica Simpson in it, talking about her pimples’, I feel ignored.

I’ve parked the car in the twin garage next to his mini van, if he saw the state of my car, would he ask questions then? Best Friends Forever show concern when this type of thing happens.

I’ve even forgotten to take my shoes off, and nothing. My jeans are soaked with rain, but that hasn’t washed away the dark blood stain that’s soaked from my groin down to my knees. I feel like he has forgotten my birthday.

I have my story all worked out. I hit a kangaroo and had to drag it off the road. It’s a good story, believable under light scrutiny.

I say, ‘I’m off to get cleaned up; I’m not feeling very well.’

‘Oh, dude, here’s the before shots of Jessica. She’s still super hot.’

I got secrets to share, secrets only a friend will understand, but he doesn’t care. I look at the muddy prints on the carpet that I walked in; he doesn’t even care about that. There is only one other person who knows what’s just happened to me and I don’t even know her name.

I hesitate as I move to go, and then again as I exit the living room, looking back at him on the couch for a moment, just in case. But he is sunk into the couch and all his attention is given to the screen.

There is Vodka in the fridge, half a bottle, I take it with me.

In the shower I wash the grit from my hair. It hasn’t registered yet, it can’t have. I don’t feel like I have just murdered some guy. There is anxiety, but there is always anxiety, that constant knot in my chest like an Alien foetus. That’s nothing new. There is anger, that Andy rejected me, what the hell is his problem?

I say goodnight to Andy to give him a second chance to ask what happened, but he doesn’t respond at all. I close the bedroom door and gently put myself to bed. Cool sheets, satin boxer shorts. I hear the volume on the television go up a few dots. He is pissed at me? I should be the one who’s pissed, not him.

Wrapped in a blue denim vest, two severed hands are in the back of my car. I’m meant to douse them and the rest of the car in petrol and set it on fire. Drive out some secluded and remove the plates, touch the car and report it stolen. She says no one is going to sift through the ash. It’s a big day tomorrow.

The TV is blaringly loud, it says, ‘I was afraid to go outside, but after two weeks using the program I felt like a new person, full of confidence. I felt beautiful.’

In the morning there are a few blissful moments of amnesia. But the memory of last night rolls in and crashes over me. The car and drive home with the rain stinging my frozen hands, spray coming off the hood and blinding me, then Andy not saying a word when I got home in that state. These are flash card memories. Here is another, my hand full of broken teeth.

The shot of fear tightens my chest so fast it hurts. It’s all real and there are human teeth in my jeans pocket in the bathroom, lying on the floor.

I jump from the bed in just my boxers and race to the bathroom and whip the jeans from the laundry basket. Andy needs a tidy house, he has moved the jeans off the floor. I’m plunging my hands into pocket after pocket. No teeth, just blood stained pocket debris. Andy has taken them.

Go to part 8 : http://www.abctales.com/story/white-dwarf/8-life-just-got-better-hero