inishing off the glass of bourbon, I flung myself out the chair, and onto my feet. Starting to feel the effects on the numerous glasses of alcohol I drank, I wabbled towards to phone.
My fingers slowly dialed the number. One ring. Two rings. Shit, no ones home. I would leave a message but I don't think it would come out correctly. I sit back down on the couch, and grab a cigarette out of the newly opened pack lying on the table. Sticking the cigarette into my mouth, I start to realize what I have done. I stopped for a moment and remembered the events of earlier that evening. I remember how she yelled at me, and how she made me put that bag over her head and suffocate her, taking all the life out of her sweet little face. I think, if I remember correctly her body is still lying in the bathroom. I dont think I moved it yet.
Grabbing for the lighter, I press the stupid child-safety button to the right and began to operate the lighter. For some reason, it doesn't seem to be lighting. I get up off the couch and slowly walk over to the bathroom. As I walk around the corner and start to enter the bathroom I can see her feet hanging out of the bathtub. There is only a little amount of blood from when I hit her in the back of the head with the ashtray. I think I must have gotten this bruise on my head from some sort of fight that we had previous to the, um, argument.
I walked over to her body and stood there grinning. I guess I could have laughed at loud at the moment but I couldn't force myself to make a noise. I leaned down to her body and started ruffling through her pockets, trying to find her lighter. As I searched through the right hand pocket I found a small piece of paper, a stick of gum, and oh, I found the lighter.
I grabbed the lighter and started to walk away from the bathroom and into the living room, where the couch was. I sat down, once again, and put th cigarette back into my mouth. Her lighter wasn't one of those cheap lighters that you can buy at a liquor store. No, hers was a genuine, sterling silver ZippoŠ, or at least some sort of rip-off of one. I popped open the silver cover with my thumb and proceeded to light my cigarette. I took a big drag once it was lit, and sit back getting comfortable in the couch. At this moment, it felt like me and the couch were one. Strangely enough, I felt almost like singing. Just sitting there, smoking a cigarette and singing a tune.
I wanted to get up and turn on some music, but couldn't bare to move. I started humming, that old song, I use to hear on the radio all the time, "King of the Road". Life was grand at this moment. "Trailers for sale or rent.......man of means by no means.....king of the road......hmmm hmm hmm hmmm.................................."
The blue wall looks so dark in the corner. It almost looked as if it was breathing. Sometimes, its not the walls the scare me, its what lies within them.
April 30th, 1995, 1:33am