| |
Burlington, October 31
11:09 p.m.
Life can change in the blink of an eye. One day everything is going great, and then a wrecking ball blindsides you and smashes it all to pieces.
I sit here at my desk, waiting for the vodka to kick in. I don’t drink the hard stuff often. We keep a couple of bottles on hand for guests or special occasions. Tonight just feels like the perfect night to break one open.
Heidi and the girls are in bed. After my outburst earlier, I’m surprised she didn’t pack them up and leave. Maybe she realized she was the one at fault, pushing my buttons like that.
I stare at the application for divorce on the desk. I still can’t believe Heidi took it this far. By reflex, I slip the application into my shredder, watching as the blades cut the paper into ribbons.
There’s your divorce, Heidi. How’s that for you, you contentious bitch? You were right about one thing: I am a man with secrets. Just not the ones you’re accusing me of.
I down another shot, grimacing against the burn. The vodka feels hot in my stomach, and the heat radiates out to the rest of my body.
I tip my head back over the chair, closing my eyes. There’s an ache in my throat, tightness in my chest.
I’m not sure if it’s fear. I’ve been afraid before, but I never felt it like this, the overwhelming despair of it.
Mentally, I feel as if I’ve fallen into a dark place. Terrible images swirl around inside my brain, and I struggle to shut them out.
I drink another hit of vodka, trying to calm my nerves. Then I get up from the desk and tiptoe toward the hallway. I stumble, catch myself on the doorjamb. My head swims a bit.
Through the semidarkness, I see Heidi has closed the bedroom door. There’s no lock, so unless she has a chair wedged on the other side, entry will be easy. Instinctively, I glance down the hallway to the girls’ room. Their door is also closed, but that’s normal for them.
The heat snaps on. A whir of air pushes out of the registers. The sound masks my footsteps as I make my way into the kitchen.
The knife block sits by the sink. I stagger forward, bracing myself on the counter. Slowly, I draw out the chef’s knife. Holding it in my hand, I close my eyes and swallow. My legs feel weak.
I go back to the hallway, turning toward the bedrooms.
I clasp the doorknob of the girls’ room and touch my forehead to the door, pausing. My stomach is queasy, my skin cold.
As I open the door, I don’t feel like myself. Someone else has taken over my body.
In the faint light, I see the girls asleep in their beds. The rise and fall of their breathing fills the room.
I stand there, trembling, ashamed.
Jade’s bed is closest to the doorway. She’s sleeping in a fetal position. When I lie down on the edge of the bed beside her, she starts awake.
“It’s only me,” I say.
“Daddy?” she moans, groggy.
“Yes, honey. Go back to sleep.”
She cuddles into my chest and drops off quickly. I lay my cheek against her head, smelling the cherry shampoo in her hair.
She and Jaleesa are the only two people I ever bonded with, the only two people I ever really cared about. I can’t let Heidi take them away from me. I can’t let her win.
I kiss Jade on top of her head.
“I love you,” I whisper.
Tears spring to my eyes as I place the blade to the side of her neck.
