Cuts
After giving me a punch, he stares deep into my eyes. He is breathing heavily like, the cloud of breath moving towards my face. I can feel his hands tighten on my shoulders, and a bit of drool drips out of his mouth. He isn’t normal now, he isn’t acting right. I thought to myself. My face is growing with panic, and my cheek on the left is red from where he hit me.
I struggle a bit, but he holds down tighter. It starts to hurt, it feels like my bone is going to break if he bends it. I whimper a bit, and struggle under the weight of his body on mine. How did things come to this? I thought.
“Wait, please! Jack! It’s me, Sam!” I pleaded. I waited for his reply. After a few seconds he didn’t give one. He continued to tighten his grip on my shoulder. I try once again to struggle, but it does no good.
I can feel his knee on mine, crushing it every second. My ribs start to hurt, and it gets hard to breath. I start to scream.
“Jack!”
“Jaaaaaaack?” He said, extending his own name releasing a breath of alcohol. By that time I realize he has been drinking. I don’t know what possesses him to do this, but I don’t have time to figure it out.
“Who’s Jack?” He said as if he were flipping the “K” with his speaking. The panic on my face was obvious now. It was as if he could smell it, that it fed him in some sort of sick fashion.
I try lifting myself up this time instead of squirming, it doesn’t seem to help. He flips his arm in a folding position, to hold me down while he pulls something out of his coat pocket. I can’t quite see what it is now, but it sparkles from the moon shine that reflects through the window.
“What is that? Is that a knife?” I said, now struggle more than I was before. The motion of my body shook him a bit. I saw my opening, though I thought I would be able to take it. I was wrong.
After getting free for a little bit, he grabbed the hoodie of my jacket that I’ve put on because of the cold weather outside. He holds the knife in the air. Later while he keeps it propped in his hand, holding it in mid air, I start to suspect if this really was Jack. Though, I was not sure of my theory first.
He lowered his head, and uncovered his face with the hoodie, same color jacket I was wearing. My face grew with shock.
“You’re-“ Before I could finish my sentence, I feel the sharp pain in my throat. My words become gurgled, and I start to breath heavily. I could see my vision starting to fade, but the image of the man never left my mind.
“Don’t worry about who I am, just worry about what you are now. Dead!” He said, adding a evil laugh at the end of his sentence. He bent over, and placed two fingers on my eye lids. I could hear him scream after that, in horror. But I didn’t know why. I was already out.
That was abnormal. I thought to myself as I rise from my bed. I extend my hand to rub my hair, and look through my two fingers on my hand that covers my face. My head starts to hurt, like a sharp pain of a needle that is pricking my brain. It hurts to turn my head cause of the whip lash I’ve gotten, due to tossing, and turning last night from the nightmare. So I only turn my head a bit, cocking it back some to take it easy. The light from outside shines through my curtains, and the design on it seems to shadow on the floor.
I put my hand on the other side of the bed to feel for my wife, Lisa, but she isn’t there. She’s probably already up. I think to myself. I can hear my knees crack a little as I stretch out my legs. I lower my feet to the floor, hearing my toes pop as they come an inch to the wooden floor boards. I’m getting old, or just waking up. I thought to myself. I could tell which one it was. I look at the door that leads into the bedroom of our small apartment. It was cracked open, and I can see the light shine outside into the hall way. I lift myself up from the bed, leaving a print of my bottom behind on the bed spread. I walk towards the door, to take a little peek outside. I can see down the hall into the kitchen. I see the shadow of Lisa that pours out into the living room, it tells me that she is already
cooking breakfast.
I open the door, and lead my first foot outside. Though, I cut my ankle with a nail that sticks out of the bottom of the door frame, it was a pretty deep cut. I breath in making a hissing noise with my teeth closed together. I limp now into the hall way, not letting the blood poor out of my ankle from the pressure I put on it. Walking more down the hall way, I can hear Lisa humming the melody she would hum she would always hum to calm me when I would have one of my nervous breakdowns.
She was always helpful with that. I have a mental condition that causes constant anxiety. Usually I say people are out to get me, that I have enemies. I would curl up in a little corner, and cradle myself. I referred to my enemies as “Them”. Though when ever I would have a nervous breakdown at work, or at my psychiatrist office, he or my co-workers would never understand what, or who I meant by “Them”. They would tell me I’m safe, and that no one was out to get me. I always found a hard time believing that, but with Lisa I feel she’s the only one that understands what I go through, and she is the key to my calmness.
I’m now in the living room, with my hands propped on the edges of the door frame that leads into the kitchen. She already has a plate on the dining table ready for me, with the eggs on the side, and the yoke busted and spread all over my toast. She continued to hum, but hadn’t noticed me there. I walked over quietly to the table, and pulled out the chair. That got her attention.
“Hey, hun. How’s your morning going?”
“Grimy, yours?”
“Just about the same.”
“Ahhh.” I sighed. But it wasn’t as if it was a boring scene. It was pretty nice, lovely. There were barely any worries for me and Lisa. We never had any money problems, never had marriage problems, and we show our love more than any other couple I’ve seen. I always felt at ease with her around.
I was already digging into my breakfast, taking a chomp at the toast that she placed in the middle of the plate. I took my fork, than cut off a slice of egg, and raise it to my mouth to eat. Lisa stopped humming, and had a plate for herself. She pulled a chair right next to me, and sat very close.
Many people would think that after 12 years of marriage, that we would be just a mutual couple. But no, we still cuddle, we still giggle, we still have dates for movies, and we still gossip about our friends that we had when we were in high school. We married right after we got out of college. We were also high school sweet hearts. Just like most couples who start dating Junior year.
We started dating in high school, had plans to go to the same college, and we did. After we got out, I proposed. I am 36 years old, though I’m scared of turning 40, for I never want to grow old. It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just I can’t picture myself old. Though, I know one day I will become old.
After 23 minutes have passed, she finished her breakfast, and dropped the plate in the sink.
“I’ve gotta head out early, today. Be here when I get home?”
“Sure will. Love you.”
“Love you too.” She said while rubbing my cheek. She didn’t really have to get dressed for work, she ran a coffee shop. So all she had to do was put an apron on when she arrived. She liked her job, and the fact that she was happy made me happy.
Though, there was one feeling I couldn’t shake that morning, one feeling that dug into my spine. I remember her asking me. What would it be like, the last time we talked. Would it be normal, or would we know it? I could just be gone forever without you even knowing. Who knows.
It pained me when she said something so lonely, and depressing like that, and the way I know her, she would never let something like that go. Though, I shouldn’t have let her go that morning she left. Cause, it would be the last time I talked to her, and it was normal, without me even knowing.
I’m at work in a daze, with my head propped on my desk, laying there sleeping. My rough draft of my Scan sheet I’m working on has the letter “B” all over it, in lines. From me laying on the keyboard for a while, and the key shape pressed into my skin on my cheek. A little drool is splashed on some of the keys. I take the sleeve of my shirt, and cover my wrist up to the begging of my hand, whipping the keys.
After that little clean up is done, I lean back in my chair, with a pencil propped between my index finger and middle finger. I do a little motion with my arm, as if I’m going to throw it. I make a little air noise, to effect as if it were blasting off like a rocket ship. I lean my head back more, to look behind me in upside down mode. People look so busy in their cubicles, running around with hands full of paper work, some carrying boxes, and some talking on their cell phones as they pass my little cubicle.
I see my boss, Hendrick, coming towards my cubicle, with his cell phone in one hand propped to his ear, and his folder that he carries around always with schedules, and rough drafts. He stopped at my door, and snaps his cell phone shut making the clipping noise that causes me to leap out of my chair. No matter how long I’ve been around this man, I can never get use to the annoying things he does. After snapping his cell phone shut, he takes his attention of his folder, and stares at me.
“Working on the Scan sheet?”
“Yes sir.”
“Hmmmm,” He hummed. “That’s good, good. Any who, Sam. I was wondering if you’ll be around for that IEP meeting with Charles, he’s transferring to Him-os’ Company. Will you make it?”
“I sure can.” I said while smiling as best as I could, pretending to mean it. Just before he could reply, his cell phone rang.
He flipped it open like a switch blade, ready to assault someone. He propped it again to his ear. I could hear the voice a little on the other end, like a squeaky mouse.
“Uh-uh. Alright, I’ll tell him.” He said, snapping his cell phone once again shut, which made me flinch.
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