When I am silent, I have thunder hidden inside.
He had left the door open behind him, he knew she wouldn’t be far away. She left it open too, she made sure she was quiet. She didn’t want him knowing she was here already. She had hidden herself in the old rotting orchard, and watched him arrive – her soul torn, her head aching, her heart heavy.
She had studiously mapped out her steps throughout the old abandoned home, she knew it all so well, which steps would betray her, which windows would cast her shadow.
As she stood in the hallway outside the room where she knew he’d be waiting, she calmed herself, steadied her breathing, smoothed her hands down over her wedding dress. She thought it was poetic to come here wearing this dress, to remind them both of who she was, who she had become, what he had turned her into. She drew her veil down over her face and picked up the long blade. It was an unusual weapon, but it belonged to him, it was something he was so proud of, and she couldn’t wait to use it against him.
Moving silently into the room, she saw him standing at the window, looking out at the darkening world beyond. She suddenly felt nothing for this man, a coldness had settled over her – she wanted simply to get it done and get out of here.
She stepped lightly into the room, avoiding the floorboards that she knew creaked and she moved towards him swiftly. He was no longer her husband, he was just a man-shaped thing who had hurt her and betrayed her and defiled her. He had done things to her and to other women and she wasn’t sure she could live with. She couldn’t fathom how he was able to live with it.
She began to seethe, the coldness replaced with a spreading heat as the rage filled her again. Those things that he had done, those vile and careless and hideous things. She raised the blade above her head and almost cried out. She stopped herself just in time and readjusted her grip. Holding the blade like a baseball bat, gripping it with both hands, she pulled back and willed all of her strength into her shoulders and arms as she plunged it into the side of his neck. She felt the jolt travel up her arms even as she cried out, a low guttural sound she never knew she could make, and she pushed through it, pushing through his flesh.
He struggled to turn around, his hands flying wildly up to try to grab at the blade but it was slick with his blood. His eyes were wide in shock as he turned them onto her and she was sickeningly pleased to see the horror and confusion on his face. As he began to realise who she was and what she was doing, she felt some of the power leave her arms, she felt her face falling slightly even as he fell to his knees, staring up at her.
She dropped the blade and backed away from him, from the man she had loved. And also hated. She had loved him and hated him and despised him and cared so much for him.
And now she had done as she had promised.
She had ended his life.
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Piece number four of my series to accompany Julie’s Dapper Rabbit series. It’s the second last one. Please don’t blame me for killing off this man, it was all Julie’s idea 🙂
I almost didn’t write this one, I wasn’t sure how I would do it. It’s a harsh death scene and I wasn’t sure how to write it. But it’s done. I feel for his wife, she’s been through a lot, but I also have a serious soft spot for the husband too. He’s not a nice man, but there’s just something about him.
I have just one more piece to share, the end to this tale. I feel like this has been a nice step to get me back into writing again. I’ve been writing quite a lot, but it’s been mostly quite private little musings, more like journalling I guess.
I spoke to one of my close friends on the phone today. He lives too far away from me and we’ve both been too busy to catch up so it was so nice to be able to talk to him today. I was at the grocery store, he was in the car on his way home and we chatted away as if we were together. We talked a lot about where we’re at lately, the things that we’ve been going through. We also talked about all the things we’d like to say to some specific people but can’t, for one reason or another. He’s been going through some things and we haven’t had a chance to talk about them in ages.
He and I share the same trait of wanting to always respond, no matter what – we both have to talk. But in some situations, responding just gives the other person the opportunity to come back and say something else that either draws us back in, or infuriates us further.
I told him that lately I’ve just been writing those kinds of things down. I open my Notes app on my phone (just as if I’m on an airplane), but sometimes on actual paper, and I write and write, saying everything I need to say. And that’s it. I leave it at that. Sometimes it becomes a story that I can share, but sometimes it’s something just for me and I can to go back to it and reflect on it if I need to.
And you know what? He told me that he has been doing the exact same thing. I’m so proud of him. We’re becoming proper grownups lol. Really, I think it shows growth to realise when you don’t need to bite back or get the last word or defend yourself. Sometimes, your silence speaks for itself. And it speaks volumes. And if you can work through it yourself, get it off your chest, it can be incredibly therapeutic.
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So that came out of nowhere. I did not expect to write that alongside this piece. I hope you enjoyed at least one of these little collections of my words.