The Claw End

It’s hard to concentrate. It could be the alcohol, or it could be the lack of drugs. It could also be the blood loss, or really any combination of the three.

I fold myself in half at the waist, my arms behind my back. It’s hard to stay upright, and I’m swaying slightly, left, right, left. I don’t remember where the hole in my side came from. It’s big though, deep, as long as my index finger, and it’s been bleeding for a while now. The bed sheet is soaked red around where I sit, a halo in the fabric.

Where is my shirt? I had one on when I got here. Maybe I took it off to check my wound. I don’t see any blood on my bra, which is good news at least. It’s my favorite one, and fits me better than any of the others.

Out the window, there’s the Volkswagen bus I drove here. Did I drive? I think I did. It’s not my car, it’s Daniel’s. I don’t think he’s going to be driving it back though. Hard to drive with broken hands.

The hammer, right? That’s what I was using. I don’t remember which end of it, but the end result is the same. The proof in the pudding.

How did I get this hole in me?

Let’s stand up, see if we can’t figure this whole thing out.

Oh, that’s not working, no. Let’s lay back down, the sheets are already ruined. Should I burn them? Probably. Probably I should.

Think I have to burn the house, too. Easier than cleaning it. Have to burn Daniel, too. Already cleaned him, but not clean enough.

Must have been the claw end. I think that’s what it was.

It’s the alcohol and the blood loss, and I think maybe I’m a little crazy right now, too.

Oh, I can see Daniel’s arm from here, staining the carpet at the foot of the bed. I definitely used the claw end. Can’t see his ring anymore at least. Too much blood over there.

Did he stab me? Was that it?

No, wait, no: it was his wife that did it. Stuck me with a screwdriver. Stuck her back, though, and only one of us is still standing.

Well, not standing, but still breathing anyway.

My shirt, my shirt’s off because of blood, their blood, not mine, although some of it’s mine, some of it.

Just need to lay here a little bit. Not much. Can’t sleep here, too much blood in the bed, too sticky.

Emily, yeah. That was her name, Emily, with the screwdriver jammed to the handle in her neck, and her eyes rolled back all silver and wide, and that’s what she had coming, because she stuck me, but I was going to take care of her anyway.

My brain is a spiral. Does that even make sense? Have to close my eyes a minute.

You know what’s got to happen if you tell me it’s over, Daniel. I have to take what you promised me. I have to, and you just have to live with that.

Oh, but that’s already happened. I’m not in the past, I’m in the future, the present, in the moment, this moment. I used the hammer, didn’t I? Yeah, I did. The back end. The claw end. The end the end.

Better with my eyes closed. Warmer. Quieter. No looking at broken hands or a screwdriver pointing straight up with no hands holding it.

Where’s my shirt? Where did I get this hole in me?

Just a few more minutes in bed before I get up. Hit the snooze bar, that will do the trick.

Then I have to find my shirt.

Just a little more sleep first.

A little more.

Sleep.

 

 

For the IndieInk Writing Challenge this week, Melissa b challenged me with “How low can you go?” and I challenged Joelyn with “If this building is abandoned, then what’s that noise from downstairs?”

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10 Comments

  1. never understood the impulse to “take you with them, so no one else can have you” doesn’t make any damn sense; you can’t take it with you.

    (wasn’t in the II challenge this week but i wrote something fun about housewives you might enjoy; my site is the link)

    Reply
    • Kameko

       /  March 15, 2012

      I’m planning on taking everyone with me when I go.

      They just don’t know about it yet.

      Shh…

      Reply
  2. “I have to take what you promised me. I have to, and you just have to live with that.”

    He didn’t, though. Did he. You’ve got a spooky side, don’t you?

    Reply
    • Kameko

       /  March 15, 2012

      Maybe. Just a little. Sometimes.

      But really I am all sunshine and light, you know.

      Sometimes.

      Where did I leave that ice pick..?

      Reply
  3. Reiko Komachi

     /  March 14, 2012

    They never learn, do they?

    Well done.

    Reply
    • Kameko

       /  March 15, 2012

      Oh, they really, really don’t.

      Sometimes, you have to remind them.

      Reply
  4. dark scene. Great tension as she suddenly realizes what happened (or what she thinks happened).

    Oh, the claw end…brutal way to go.

    Reply
    • Kameko

       /  March 15, 2012

      Well, if you’re going to murder someone, I say make it as bloody as possible. Why do anything halfway?

      Reply
  5. Oh yeah! I loved the shift in the middle from sympathizing with this potential victim to realizing she’s a murderer surrounded by her victims. I think the shift came for me at “hard to drive with broken hands”. Methinks Emily may have gotten her licks in after all.

    Reply

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