October Burns

Have you ever been in a situation or a relationship when the reciprocating person is just so terrible you envision murdering them? Well.. I have. Read on

October Burns

I stood there, burning holes with my eyes on his body. I was not filled with lust however, but with controlled rage. Every comment that jumped out of his mouth infuriated me. Every move, every breath.. I couldn’t hold back any longer. Letting my instincts take over, I scanned the loft for hard, blunt objects. Maybe the lamp in the far corner? No, too messy. A kitchen knife? Mm- mm, too cliche. Ah-ha! My gaze rested on his metal bat, propped up against the wooden coffee table aside his mit. Still a messy option, but fun. “You know babe, I’m great at baseball. I have such a strong arm. In school my team sucked, but I carried us on my back,” he said when he noticed me cross the room for the bat. He began to flex his large, sun-tanned bicep muscles, “I can show you a few moves if you’d like. Come here I’ll-” God that felt good. I swung a second time, third, fourth and so on; his words ringing in my ears. I must have blacked out while pulverizing my now deceased lover. I must have become mesmerized by the velvet red splashes and drips perspiring from the metallic bat. Never again will I have to listen to the arrogant tone in his voice squander on and on about his many “skills”. No one will. Ever. Again. Once my fury softened, I felt no regret. I felt nothing at all, which is one condition I was all too familiar with. I owe that to the bleeding corpse lying beside me on the rug. “I do hope those stains come out. Love that rug..” I murmured to myself. Then I giggled, realizing the silence. Some people believe they don’t have it in them to take another person’s life. I believe you never know your limitations until they are presented to you. I begin to clean up my mess, all the while keeping a secret grin on my lips. I may be morally wrong, but boy it feels so good. I soak up the relief like I soak up the blood, slow and deliberate. It occurs to me that I never have to look into those self absorbed, self centered, inconsiderate, dirty brown eyes ever again. I am so giddy, I decide it’s about time to celebrate. I take a small break from tidying up to pour myself a generous glass of red wine. I sip slow, drinking in the moment. As I finish removing the last of the blood from my favorite rug, I decide my celebration is not over. It is mid morning in my favorite month of October, overcast fills the grey- blue sky with fluffy, iridescent clouds. I emerge onto my evergreen back patio, sit back, let my hair down and spark my pre-rolled joint. With every thick, appeasing inhale I feel better and better. The definition of insanity is to perform the same action over and over.. I, my love, am not insane.. But the question now remains hanging in the air like the soft stench of a corpse.. Am I insane enough to perform my action over and over? Only time will tell.

The End