Don't Underestimate the Things I Would Do - 4/19/2011
I sit at my desk listening to the rhythmic beat of the drumming in Adele’s ‘Rolling in the Deep’ song. Watching a slideshow of pictures from happier times flash before my eyes, I sing the words in my head, trying not to hum aloud for fear of waking him again. Lord knows what will happen if he wakes up, again.
The dog is at my feet snoring and I wince as the stinging pain from my left arm reminds me it’s that time once again. I don’t dare touch it, instead I wiggle my foot to wake the dog and click the mouse to pause the slideshow. It’s time for another two more pills.
“The scars of your love, they leave me breathless…”
I push my chair away from the desk, softly humming the tune and carefully open the bathroom door. I keep my pills there, tucked away behind the stack of neatly folded, matching colored, bathroom towels.
“You had my heart inside of your hand…”
I turn the tap on and watch as the cool, clear liquid tumbles out of the spout, splashing up slightly as it first hits the white porcelain of the bathroom sink.
“Could’ve had it all…”
I dip my hand into the stream of water and scoop it into my mouth. The two pills, smaller than Tic-Tac’s, rest between my teeth and my tongue, and they click against each other as I jerk my chin up swallowing them along with the water.
“Think of me in the depths of your despair…”
I look up and catch a ghostly image in the three tiered bathroom mirror. A face I barely recognize. Dark circles rest under her eyes like x-rated bags hiding secrets. Swollen, colorful blotches, patterned almost like a patchwork quilt, by her cracked, blistered lips. Shades of purples, pinks and yellows outline her hairline and the hollow of her cheeks. Where was her smile? Where had it faded? When did it disappear?
“The scars of your love, remind me of us…”
I look down, as tears brim the corners of my eyes, blurring my vision. I quickly wipe them away and sniff. I look up again, this time avoiding my reflection, and switch off the bathroom light. The nightlight, a blue LED one, casts an eerie shadow along the walls. I chew at the dangling flesh inside of my cheek. I guess I must have bit it during the last blow and it made a blister.
“You’re gonna wish you, never had met me…”
I walk back into the den as the dog trails behind me. I can feel the anger bubbling inside of me, seeing him laying there on the couch. I cringe and grit my teeth upon seeing all the opened beer cans that lay scattered about the floor, cigarette butts ground deep into the once beige carpet, and the big, old oaf sound asleep with his left hand down his stretchy-waist, green sweatpants.
“Tears are gonna fall, rolling in the deep…”
I narrow my swollen eyes, and run my tongue over my cracked, blistered lips. I know exactly what needs to be done.
“But you played it with a beating…”
I return from the kitchen tightly gripping a stiff-handled and sharp, 9 inch, serrated blade. Closing my eyes and breathing evenly through my mouth, I position myself just above him. A devilish smile spreads across my patchwork colored face.
“We could have had it all…” I whisper.
I open my eyes to see him staring up at me. His bloodshot, glassy eyed gaze watch me carefully, slowly looking me up and down. I see his mouth curl downward in disapproval.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he snarles. “What did I tell you? You just never get it, do you? Get it in that thick, moronic, head of yours.”
I ignore him and keep my smile plastered to my face. “You played it, you played it…”
Without another word, I plunge the cold, stainless steel blade into my chest and gasp at how much it actually does sting as the saw-like teeth pierces my soft flesh.
I feel the surge of hot blood spill from my wound and up from my throat, through my mouth. Breathing out from my nose, my body shaking and nearly in convulsions, I whisper, “You played it to the beat.”
The dog is at my feet snoring and I wince as the stinging pain from my left arm reminds me it’s that time once again. I don’t dare touch it, instead I wiggle my foot to wake the dog and click the mouse to pause the slideshow. It’s time for another two more pills.
“The scars of your love, they leave me breathless…”
I push my chair away from the desk, softly humming the tune and carefully open the bathroom door. I keep my pills there, tucked away behind the stack of neatly folded, matching colored, bathroom towels.
“You had my heart inside of your hand…”
I turn the tap on and watch as the cool, clear liquid tumbles out of the spout, splashing up slightly as it first hits the white porcelain of the bathroom sink.
“Could’ve had it all…”
I dip my hand into the stream of water and scoop it into my mouth. The two pills, smaller than Tic-Tac’s, rest between my teeth and my tongue, and they click against each other as I jerk my chin up swallowing them along with the water.
“Think of me in the depths of your despair…”
I look up and catch a ghostly image in the three tiered bathroom mirror. A face I barely recognize. Dark circles rest under her eyes like x-rated bags hiding secrets. Swollen, colorful blotches, patterned almost like a patchwork quilt, by her cracked, blistered lips. Shades of purples, pinks and yellows outline her hairline and the hollow of her cheeks. Where was her smile? Where had it faded? When did it disappear?
“The scars of your love, remind me of us…”
I look down, as tears brim the corners of my eyes, blurring my vision. I quickly wipe them away and sniff. I look up again, this time avoiding my reflection, and switch off the bathroom light. The nightlight, a blue LED one, casts an eerie shadow along the walls. I chew at the dangling flesh inside of my cheek. I guess I must have bit it during the last blow and it made a blister.
“You’re gonna wish you, never had met me…”
I walk back into the den as the dog trails behind me. I can feel the anger bubbling inside of me, seeing him laying there on the couch. I cringe and grit my teeth upon seeing all the opened beer cans that lay scattered about the floor, cigarette butts ground deep into the once beige carpet, and the big, old oaf sound asleep with his left hand down his stretchy-waist, green sweatpants.
“Tears are gonna fall, rolling in the deep…”
I narrow my swollen eyes, and run my tongue over my cracked, blistered lips. I know exactly what needs to be done.
“But you played it with a beating…”
I return from the kitchen tightly gripping a stiff-handled and sharp, 9 inch, serrated blade. Closing my eyes and breathing evenly through my mouth, I position myself just above him. A devilish smile spreads across my patchwork colored face.
“We could have had it all…” I whisper.
I open my eyes to see him staring up at me. His bloodshot, glassy eyed gaze watch me carefully, slowly looking me up and down. I see his mouth curl downward in disapproval.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he snarles. “What did I tell you? You just never get it, do you? Get it in that thick, moronic, head of yours.”
I ignore him and keep my smile plastered to my face. “You played it, you played it…”
Without another word, I plunge the cold, stainless steel blade into my chest and gasp at how much it actually does sting as the saw-like teeth pierces my soft flesh.
I feel the surge of hot blood spill from my wound and up from my throat, through my mouth. Breathing out from my nose, my body shaking and nearly in convulsions, I whisper, “You played it to the beat.”
