I read it in the paper: a white female of 23 years old, found dead outside her apartment, in the backyard, by her very own brother. My heart rate accelerates at the horror that would encase the young man of 25, at having failed his sister so horribly. My eyes drift up to my wife as she watches my expression. She continuously wrings her hands with sadness brewing in her eyes, as she awaits my verdict upon the monster that had done such a heinous crime.
“It’s disgusting, it really is. It’s such a shame. She was so young, so beautiful and vibrant. Maybe she was never meant to die, it could have been an accident,” my lips twisted into a grimace at the thought of such a light extinguished. “She is-was really something, eh? Could really fill up a room with that smile of hers, if the picture is anything to go by.” I respond, staring at the youthful brunette, as she looks blankly back through the paper.
My wife nods her head, though her eyes never leave mine. The green of her eyes shimmered as her eyes squinted while she stared at me as if she was trying to look deep inside me. Her mind is moving in too many directions, her eyes flickering as a new idea enters her head. I place my hand on top of hers, rubbing them as I whisper soothing words. Her head tilts down to stare at me, as a melancholy smile appears on her face. But just as soon as it was there, the smile vanishes as she rises to clear her breakfast dish away and leaves to get dressed for the day. Before leaving the room, I stand sensing her inner turmoil, kissing my wife’s forehead in a soothing gesture before returning back to the paper.
It is only after my wife leaves that I let out a sigh as a smile curves my lips. And what a shame it had been to lose poor Emily, if only she had stayed quiet. She would not have been hurt if she had just followed my instructions.
My hand held the article still, as the knife easily skidded across the article, a perfect cut. My wife had always envied my ability with the knife, if only she knew. But then what would she do, what would I do? Holding the article in my hand, I reached into my pocket as I simultaneously rubbed the necklace which had been Emily’s only yesterday. I crossed the room, to the floorboard which I easily lifted to find my other belongings; a hairbrush, a ring, a ribbon and various other feminine things. I slowly eased the necklace into my safe place, while reliving the memory of the keepsake.
Unaware, as I lived out my story, my wife had crept back into the room to watch where I would put my newest token. She stifled a cry as she bounded from the room, while bumping into the table. My head shot around to my wife of five years, as her eyes widened in fear, her body shaking like a leaf.
What to do now…