Chapter Eleven
A glint in the darkness,
the long metallic blade of the knife.
Swiping at him, missing him
by mere inches.
He dodges, and runs as fast
as his legs will carry him.
Which isn’t fast enough.
After only a few minutes,
he feels the piercing pain between his shoulder blades.
He lurches forward, and hits
the ground with a dull thud.
*****
Matt cursed as he picked himself
up off the bedroom floor. Typical. Just typical. He finally managed to get to sleep and it was disturbed by nightmares. He
felt for the bed, fumbling in the dark. His searching fingers brushed against a sheet, and he used it to pull himself up onto
the bed. Sitting on the edge, he rubbed his eyes, and stared out the window, the moonlight hitting his face in such a way
that if it were described in a poem, people would think it beautiful. It bounced off his eyes, and created shadows in all
the complimentary places. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glint over by the foot of his bed. He turned his head
slowly, and his chest went hollow.
*****
1946
“I don’t know…”
her voice was cold. “Why would you?” She brought out a black gun and pointed it in his direction, “Why would
anyone do anything in this world?”
He stared in pure horror
at the sight in front of him, “No. No. Please. Don’t. I wasn’t doing anything. I love you. You can’t
do this. Please.”
“I’m sick of
you screwing me around, Charles. I’m sick of sitting at home, hoping you’re late home due to work, but knowing
deep down, that you’re off having sex with some woman!” Her grip on the gun didn’t waver for a second. “Could
I not provide for you? Or did you just like the thrill of attempting to hide it from me?”
“You haven’t
been taking your medication…” he muttered to himself. “It’s paranoia, Sarah. The paranoia. You can’t
let it rule you. You have to fight it.”
“This isn’t paranoia!”
she screeched, and pressed her finger down on the trigger. The shot was the last thing he heard.
*****
2006
Nobody was on the street below
to hear the cry for help that pierced the air.
