Blueberries

It feels strange to wish you could die without wanting to be the cause of it. It feels strange to wish you could put your life into someone else's hands, and they would smash it without a second thought. It feels strange, seeing beauty around you yet believing it's a mirage.

"Good morning, Geoff!" a voice, sweet like hummingbird nectar, calls from the kitchen. I throw one leg out of bed and topple my alarm clock off my nightstand. After stretching a few times, I make my way down the spiraling staircase in front of me. That's good, I think. One foot in front of the other. That's it.

As soon as I reach the bottom of the stairs, the aroma of blueberry pancakes hits me. The second thing that hits me is the beauty of my wife. Kayla stands triumphantly, a platter in one hand, another hand reaching around my neck. My gaze drops to the funny apron draped around her tiny waist, and I chuckle lightly.

"Couldn't make it fit, could you? You're too small, sweetheart?"

"Oh yeah?" She raises an eyebrow, and I can see her swirling gold-brown eyes clearly.

God, she's beautiful. She's great. Even so, I'll never be able to tell her about my urge to slam the plate she's holding into the wall.

"Yeah. It's cute, though." I give her an impish grin and make my way to the kitchen table, where a hot plate of blueberry pancakes are precariously stacked. She shakes the chesnut bun on her head in a teasing manner and returns to the pancake griddle. Not a minute later, when she joins me at the table, the pancakes are gone.

"Delicious babe. I'll get the dishes." I smile at her, and she returns with a blueberry grin. I saunter over to the kitchen and turn on the sink. 

Then the change happens.

My eyes serve as drills, focusing on the warm streaks of maple syrup dripping off my plate and into the drain below. I notice the events that are taking place, but I'm not seeing them. The water turns hot, and I barely notice the steam billowing from the sink. My hands begin to tremor quietly at first, but as I run them through the water, they become red and bloated. Before I know it, I can't control them. My whole body starts shaking in unison, and sweat pools on the nape of my neck. I force my elbows up on the kitchen sink to steady myself. Blood swirls chaotically in my brain, then suddenly I lose my balance and feel the sickening crunch of my body slamming into the counter. 

The noise is loud enough to attract attention from Kayla. She rushes to my side, and I hear words coming from her, but the syllables sound strange, as if they were stretched out in a taffy puller. I hear the words "stop," from what feels like miles away. But I'm not in control anymore. A demon is wreaking havoc inside me. My palm slams into something soft, and then I'm dimly aware of a swaying sensation.

"You're hurting me!" With those words, coming so far, so far away, I collapse, and the last thing I taste is blood, the ground, and blueberries.