XLI.

Posted by Jeff Craven on September 6th, 2008 filed in Writing

Killing Time

His eyes grew wide as the kitchen knife sawed at his wrists. He expected pain, but was surprised to find it hardly hurt at all. A dark liquid seeped from the blade’s wounds as the knife continued to rock back and forth. It almost looked black. He always thought blood was red. His spent his last moments before passing out chasing these ideas.

“Jeremy? Can you hear me?” A concerned, feminine voice was close to him, though he couldn’t tell where. As he opened his eyes, he saw a young girl, mid-twenties, clasping his bandaged hands. His wide eyes manifested themselves again, this time accompanied by a horror-stricken look on his face.

“You’re in the hospital,” she said. “I came looking for you when you didn’t show up after work and found you collapsed in the bathroom. What were you thinking? You could have killed yourself—and I’m so glad you didn’t—but why did you do this?”

“I don’t remember…” Jeremy said. He decided he had to get away. Just wait for the right moment, and then slip out when no one’s watching.

“I’m glad you’re safe, anyway. I took off of work so I can help you get better. We can spend this weekend together, too. How does going to Houlihan’s sound? Just like we always do?”

“Sounds good,” Jeremy said. He shifted uncomfortably on his hospital bed. He unsuccessfully tried to break the iron grip she still had on his hands.

“I can make a reservation at our usual table,” she mused. “I wonder if Nancy still works there? She was trying to find a job right after college, but then again, a Liberal Arts degree doesn’t really lend itself well to any job in particular. You know?”

“I know,” Jeremy said. The girl smiled. Jeremy managed a smile back.

“Well, I’ll let you sleep. Don’t worry about work. Everything’s taken care of. They said to take all the time you need to recover. You don’t have to do anything but sleep.” She kissed Jeremy on the forehead and left the room, a bounce in her step which made her every movement look like she was walking on springs. His face relaxed and his eyes lost the terror they held moments before.

Jeremy looked at his bandaged wrists. He was bleeding through. Pretty soon, she would be back, and would no doubt volunteer to help change his bandages amidst the protests from the nurse. And then, when he got better, they would go home and live their life just the way it was before. Everything would be back to normal.

All he had to do was wait.