I looked at my hands stained with blood. Is this normal? I always thought a stab wound would spur out blood like crazy but now that it finally happened, there isn’t much blood. Does this mean I have less blood in my body or I’ve already bled enough that I’m losing sight? I looked at her with my closing eyelids. She gave me a tragic smile. She was crying. The knife in her hand dripping with blood.
I remember buying that knife for her. She loved the ornate carving on its handle. It looked like ivory with little roses carved in it here and there. It also had a skull if you looked closer. Just below the blade, shaped like a rose. She said it’s symbolic. “It means evil can creep up on us while we take it in thinking it’s love,” she said with a glint in her eyes.
The very same knife tore my skin as it went for my heart minutes ago. There was no reason for this. And somewhere along the line I saw it coming. So far, she’s killed two children. But it was an accident. She had left the tap running with two children in the bathtub while she was babysitting them. Having spent seven years in an asylum for the criminally insane, I thought she would be fine. I figured if I kept her happy and peaceful, she would live her life just like any other normal person.
My legs were losing strength now. How long have I been bleeding? I fell on the freshly mown grass. The smell hitting me just as I started losing my senses. Wasn’t it this morning that I mowed the lawn? I figured it was afternoon. It must be nightfall now as everything seemed dark. Or is it because I’m dying? I felt a drop of water on my cheek. I looked up. It was beginning to rain. I looked at her. She was looking up too as the rain washed away the blood splashed on her face. She looked at me. I waited for her to say something.
“I find peace in the rain.”
That was enough. I smiled at her as darkness engulfed me, plunging me in the cold embrace of death.
