Wait a minute. What am I doing here?

Take a deep breath.

I stare into the mirror and am surprised at the image who stares back. Long blond hair. Wide green eyes. A face that doesn’t look at all like what I remember it to be. But as I touch my face, I see the reflection do the same.

What are you waiting for?
The woman in the mirror says. Don’t you remember why you came back here?

I shake my head no, and she looks at me like a dumb child. For all intents and purposes, that’s all she thinks of me. The way its always been.

Clutching the sink, I look down at my hands.

You need to finish cleaning up, she said.

There are still streaks of blood between my fingers, but much more is in the drain.
My dress, once white, looked as if some artist had spent the day throwing red paint at me.

It wasn’t paint, of course. I could smell it.

Shivering, I turned the water up, and reached for a towel, scrubbing my hands with frothy soap and hot water . I pulled my dress off and scrubbed in the shower.

The dress seemed to have absorbed most of it. There wasn’t much blood on my body.
Once I turned off the water, I could hear the television still blasting in the other room.

I put on a robe and stumbled into the hallway.

Wait a minute. What am I doing here?

I paused.

The walls in the hallway were blank. Not so much as a picture, and thankfully, not a mirror. I could feel her green eyes watching me. Threatening me to fuck up like I always do.

We are just bits of each other. But she seems intent….

On putting you in your place, she hissed.

The living room is a big and bright. A fireplace, a large television mounted on the wall, and a couch.

My husband is still, staring at the television screen.

He’s sitting on the couch, eyes wide. The game has been off for hours now, and I fumble for the remote, because he doesn’t like this show. The one where the girl begs the guy to chose her. When all along he’s snickering, because his choice has been made. She just doesn’t know it yet.

“Honey?” I said.

He turns to me slowly, blinking.

Of course, its impossible that he could do that now. I see the gash just beneath his
Adam’s apple.

My hands seem to have a memory of their own: the skillful arc I made as I came down with the knife at the base of his throat. Looking down, I could see the knife peaking out from under the sofa. Sterling caught the light and gleamed cruelly.

I shake my head, and squeeze my eyes shut.

When I open them, he’s not moving anymore. I see now that the blood is dry, cold, and turning black.

Don’t you remember what happened?
My reflection said, now staring down at me from the television screen. Her eyes are like cold flame. And her lips are twisted. She’s holding back her laughter.

I didn’t think you’d really do it, you little prissy bitch, she scolded. You always say I’m only a fucking voice in your head. You never listened to me before.

"Reflection"
Copyright: © 2010 Lori Titus

----------------------------------

Green Water Lullaby, Lori’s collection of short stories, is available for pre-order: http://www.sonar4publications.com/green.html

I can’t feel you anymore.

I woke this morning and sensed the absence of you. It used to be that I was more aware of you than my own breathing. Your thoughts ran a sort of wavelength beneath my own: a form of wordless background noise. That is the way that I remember it, as far back as I’ve known you. This empathy is part of what bound us together from the beginning

I know you so well. I know your routine.

Sometimes, I’d count your footsteps as you crossed the kitchen floor above me.

You have your morning coffee with a cigarette. You like eggs and bacon, toast buttered thickly.

I miss the sound of the radio playing. I miss that song that comes on every afternoon. It’s an old rock song about standing in the darkness and not being forgotten.

I can relate.

It’s only been two weeks I’ve been here, but it feels so much longer. I may not have been the perfect wife, but I loved you fiercely. I told you from the beginning that I was different.

And you knew that, didn’t you? We have known each other since we were little more than children. Surely an ordinary woman could not read your mind.

You loved me back then, didn’t you? We spent our teens together and married young. Somewhere in this basement , I still have our wedding album.

We were happy back then.

That was before you realized the truth.

I trusted you. And I shouldn’t have.

You never minded at all when I worked my abilities to your benefit. Mind control is such a subtle thing. A little push here, a tug there. Make that banker give you a loan for your construction business it should never have qualified for. Make your rivals meet with unfortunate , deadly accidents. Who would think anything of it? Yours is a perilous business. Men have been known to be crushed , buried or electrocuted by poor machinery.

A mere suggestion could solve so many problems.

I think what happened to your brother was too much. His blood was thicker than anything I had to offer you, wasn’t it? How many times can I apologize? All I can say is that he came after me. I am your wife. Some boundaries should be respected. Yes, I killed him. I made his heart stop. There was an artery, with the slightest defect which he’d had since birth. And with a little push, the quickest of thoughts, I was able to make it collapse.

To everyone, this was a tragedy, the natural death of a man in his prime. I am sorry for the pain this has caused you. But he got what he deserved.

I saw how you stared at me during the funeral. You knew.
So, you put me down here, in the basement. It was to protect everyone from me, you said.

Who, my darling, did you think would protect you?

I never imagined, with all the love between us that I could hate you. Life shows us things we cannot imagine.

Yesterday morning, I closed my eyes and thought of you. I pictured you sitting at the kitchen table, eating your eggs. And I imagined what it would be like if your throat started to constrict. How your eyes would widen because you couldn’t swallow.

It will take another day or so before they find your body slumped over the table. They will find me locked in the basement. I will tell them how stricken with grief you were, and that you locked me down here for two weeks.

That much won’t be a lie.

Maybe, if you hadn’t been alone, I could have helped you. Maybe if you hadn’t locked me away in the basement, you wouldn’t have choked and died on your own gall.

It’s over now, my darling. I wish you peace. Better yet, I promise it.

You won’t forget me.

"Don't Forget Me"
Copyright: © 2009 Lori Titus
----------------------------------