too many pills and weak from no food. She made her way into the kitchen and caught her reflection in the microwave door. Lindy looked like hell. Her face was pale, her cheeks sunken, and her eyes looked like they belonged in a skull. She tried to smile at herself, but oddly her mouth wouldn't form the curve. She opened the freezer door looking for the vodka her dad always kept chilling. It was half full and she felt the cold bottle in her hand like an alien object. She looked on the counter for her sleeping pills and didn't see them. She searched the counters and cupboards sure that her dad would have left them down here in the kitchen. After a few minutes she had to set the vodka down because her hand was hurting. Lindy paused. He must have them upstairs with him. He's probably concerned I will do exactly what I am planning on doing . She paused and considered if she should try to go into his room while he was sleeping or if she should just wait.
****
The woman felt cold all the time. No matter how many sweaters she wore, she still felt chills running through her body. She thought that maybe things wou ld start to get better, slowly. Perhaps the dullness would take over the abysmal hurt. But it didn't. She still felt every waking moment like someone had punched her hard in the stomach. She walked like the living dead. That's what she was - the living dead.
People always say time heals. But how much time was it going to take to heal the loss of her child and her grandchildren? How much time was it going to take to make her ever feel like smiling again? It couldn't be possible. She felt the tears on her cheeks. She stood looking out the window feeling cold.
****
The man s tood in his garage. He watched her standing at the window. She stood there every day for almost three hours before she would move. He didn't know what to do.
He opened the cabinet and took out the bottle filled with brown liquid. He knew he shouldn't do this. He knew what happened before. But he could n't handle his life right now. Couldn't handle not only the pain of loss, but the deterioration of his wife and her mind. She was losing it and he didn't know what to do to stop it. He couldn't fix this because it was too broken. He took a swig and felt the brown liquid burn as it moved down his throat. His taste buds remembered and celebrated. He took another swig from the bottle and this time he started coughing. He recovered and took another long drink from the bottle. The familiar warmth began in his stomach. It stirred up the acid and for a moment he thought he might vomit. But quickly he recovered and felt the beloved dullness begin to seep into his blood. The old man felt the blood flowing and depositing the warmth of the booze as it moved. It felt like coming home. For an instant he felt happy. It was going to work.
****
James walked through the lobby. His gait was steady and he looked the picture of English aristocracy. His suit was the best quality and cut perfectly for him. He was still a good looking man, even with a bit of a jowl and some extra padding. He kept his steps slow even though he really wanted to run to the car. Regina was waiting in the car. He was going to be able to hold her, kiss her, and feel her body against his. That was what was driving him forward. And being able to leave Diana to her sobbing. He knew it was horrible that he wasn't more compassionate to her pain. But he just couldn't sit there and cry all day long. She had to run out of tears sometime.
They had to do something. He was pisse d and wanted heads
****
The woman felt cold all the time. No matter how many sweaters she wore, she still felt chills running through her body. She thought that maybe things wou ld start to get better, slowly. Perhaps the dullness would take over the abysmal hurt. But it didn't. She still felt every waking moment like someone had punched her hard in the stomach. She walked like the living dead. That's what she was - the living dead.
People always say time heals. But how much time was it going to take to heal the loss of her child and her grandchildren? How much time was it going to take to make her ever feel like smiling again? It couldn't be possible. She felt the tears on her cheeks. She stood looking out the window feeling cold.
****
The man s tood in his garage. He watched her standing at the window. She stood there every day for almost three hours before she would move. He didn't know what to do.
He opened the cabinet and took out the bottle filled with brown liquid. He knew he shouldn't do this. He knew what happened before. But he could n't handle his life right now. Couldn't handle not only the pain of loss, but the deterioration of his wife and her mind. She was losing it and he didn't know what to do to stop it. He couldn't fix this because it was too broken. He took a swig and felt the brown liquid burn as it moved down his throat. His taste buds remembered and celebrated. He took another swig from the bottle and this time he started coughing. He recovered and took another long drink from the bottle. The familiar warmth began in his stomach. It stirred up the acid and for a moment he thought he might vomit. But quickly he recovered and felt the beloved dullness begin to seep into his blood. The old man felt the blood flowing and depositing the warmth of the booze as it moved. It felt like coming home. For an instant he felt happy. It was going to work.
****
James walked through the lobby. His gait was steady and he looked the picture of English aristocracy. His suit was the best quality and cut perfectly for him. He was still a good looking man, even with a bit of a jowl and some extra padding. He kept his steps slow even though he really wanted to run to the car. Regina was waiting in the car. He was going to be able to hold her, kiss her, and feel her body against his. That was what was driving him forward. And being able to leave Diana to her sobbing. He knew it was horrible that he wasn't more compassionate to her pain. But he just couldn't sit there and cry all day long. She had to run out of tears sometime.
They had to do something. He was pisse d and wanted heads
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