Read Online Glory (Book 1) by Michael McManamon - Free Book Online
Authors: Michael McManamon
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stomach, assuring herself that she was still there. That she had survived.
She looked again at the clothes on the floor. Covered in blood.
In her daughter's blood. And Harold's.
She had killed him . I t . She knew that it had been a matter of life and death, but that didn't make it any easier to accept.
She turned away from the clothes. She needed to shower.
Jane grabbed at the faucet and turned it on. A light stream of cold water came out of the shower head. Jane didn't mind. She didn't care about hot water. Not at the moment. She hadn't gone into the shower to relax. She had done in there to clean herself.
Cold water would be fin e .
She stepped into the shower. When the water hit her, she gasped. It pricked at her skin and hurt. But it also brought her some form of comfort. It was more proof that she was alive.
She felt a slight shiver as she grabbed the soap and began scrubbing herself. She moved her hands vigorously over her body - arms, legs, stomach, back - until her skin began to feel raw.
She stopped and allowed the cold water to wash the darkened suds away.
Next, she moved onto her hair. She grabbed her shampoo and lathered it upon her head. She felt her nails scratch against her scalp. Again, the pain only reminded her that she had survived.
She put her head underneath the weak stream of water. It battered against the top of her head and ran down the front of her face.
Jane washed her face last. She ran her fingers along her nose and forehead, cheeks and chin. This time, she didn't hurt herself. Her touch was soft, gentle. She moved her hands in small circles. Slowly. She thought about how numb her face felt. She didn't know why.
She rinsed it. Then she opened her mouth and took a big sip of water. She spit it out.
When she was finished, Jane continued to stand there. She couldn't move. She barely noticed the cold water anymore. She let it run down over her head, down her body.
She thought about her husband and daughter. She tried to make sense of what had happened, but couldn't. She had absolutely no idea what had caused them to change. And she had no idea why she hadn't.
But that's what had happened. She had been left alone.
She thought about her house. Her and her husband had bought it when she had been pregnant with Becky. They had both been living in the city, but they had wanted a better place to raise their child. They had wanted a yard. A swing set. A tree to hide behind.
She thought about their future together - or what was supposed to have been their future. She could see Becky getting older, having birthday parties, having sleep-overs. Jane might have even retired with Phil in this very house. They could have sat on the porch, drinking coffee, waiting for Becky to come over with her own children . Jane's grandchildren.
Her ideas continued to spiral.
Then, all of a sudden, Jane knew what she had to do. She had to leave the house. She couldn't stay there. Not anymore. Not after what had happened.
Where will I go ? she wondered next.
She didn't spend much time worrying about it. She figured that it didn't really matter. She just needed to get out of there.
Jane turned off the water and got out of the shower. The bathroom was nearly dark. She hadn't known that she had been in the shower for so long. She wasn't even sure what time it was.
She grabbed a towel and dried herself off. Then she went into her room and looked at her watch on the nightstand. It read nearly 8 o'clock.
How lon g ha d she been in there?
Jane placed the watch back onto the table. She wouldn't have much need for it anymore. She wouldn't have to worry about when Phil would be home from work or what time she needed to take Becky to the daycare. There were no more appointments. No more meetings. Time didn't matter.
She got out a fresh new pair of clothes to wear and threw a few other things onto the bed. She'd pack them in a backpack later. She had one downstairs in the basement. She'd get it once she got
She looked again at the clothes on the floor. Covered in blood.
In her daughter's blood. And Harold's.
She had killed him . I t . She knew that it had been a matter of life and death, but that didn't make it any easier to accept.
She turned away from the clothes. She needed to shower.
Jane grabbed at the faucet and turned it on. A light stream of cold water came out of the shower head. Jane didn't mind. She didn't care about hot water. Not at the moment. She hadn't gone into the shower to relax. She had done in there to clean herself.
Cold water would be fin e .
She stepped into the shower. When the water hit her, she gasped. It pricked at her skin and hurt. But it also brought her some form of comfort. It was more proof that she was alive.
She felt a slight shiver as she grabbed the soap and began scrubbing herself. She moved her hands vigorously over her body - arms, legs, stomach, back - until her skin began to feel raw.
She stopped and allowed the cold water to wash the darkened suds away.
Next, she moved onto her hair. She grabbed her shampoo and lathered it upon her head. She felt her nails scratch against her scalp. Again, the pain only reminded her that she had survived.
She put her head underneath the weak stream of water. It battered against the top of her head and ran down the front of her face.
Jane washed her face last. She ran her fingers along her nose and forehead, cheeks and chin. This time, she didn't hurt herself. Her touch was soft, gentle. She moved her hands in small circles. Slowly. She thought about how numb her face felt. She didn't know why.
She rinsed it. Then she opened her mouth and took a big sip of water. She spit it out.
When she was finished, Jane continued to stand there. She couldn't move. She barely noticed the cold water anymore. She let it run down over her head, down her body.
She thought about her husband and daughter. She tried to make sense of what had happened, but couldn't. She had absolutely no idea what had caused them to change. And she had no idea why she hadn't.
But that's what had happened. She had been left alone.
She thought about her house. Her and her husband had bought it when she had been pregnant with Becky. They had both been living in the city, but they had wanted a better place to raise their child. They had wanted a yard. A swing set. A tree to hide behind.
She thought about their future together - or what was supposed to have been their future. She could see Becky getting older, having birthday parties, having sleep-overs. Jane might have even retired with Phil in this very house. They could have sat on the porch, drinking coffee, waiting for Becky to come over with her own children . Jane's grandchildren.
Her ideas continued to spiral.
Then, all of a sudden, Jane knew what she had to do. She had to leave the house. She couldn't stay there. Not anymore. Not after what had happened.
Where will I go ? she wondered next.
She didn't spend much time worrying about it. She figured that it didn't really matter. She just needed to get out of there.
Jane turned off the water and got out of the shower. The bathroom was nearly dark. She hadn't known that she had been in the shower for so long. She wasn't even sure what time it was.
She grabbed a towel and dried herself off. Then she went into her room and looked at her watch on the nightstand. It read nearly 8 o'clock.
How lon g ha d she been in there?
Jane placed the watch back onto the table. She wouldn't have much need for it anymore. She wouldn't have to worry about when Phil would be home from work or what time she needed to take Becky to the daycare. There were no more appointments. No more meetings. Time didn't matter.
She got out a fresh new pair of clothes to wear and threw a few other things onto the bed. She'd pack them in a backpack later. She had one downstairs in the basement. She'd get it once she got
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