stick in sight.
~ Oh, my poor Charlie Boy.
I never did this to you; I wouldn’t starve my baby like this.
~
“You’re a peeg, you need to go to the
geem more, Charlie, how you espect me to go in public with
you?”
Charles fumbled with the lock and
finally got the door open. He refused to respond to her. If he let
her start in on him, she would degrade him until he was a broken
pile of self hate, a huddled mass of whimpering self loathing. The
way she talked to him made him want to lay down and die.
“Get out of the way,” Mariana said
pushing passed him and clomping across the apartment. She checked
the kitchen first, sometimes her keys ended up in the candy dish on
the counter, or in the junk drawer next to the fridge. Having no
luck there, she moved to the living room and then on to her
bedroom.
Charlie followed her down the hall and
stood at her door as she rummaged through the miscellaneous items
on the nightstand. He wasn’t allowed in her room. She valued her
privacy so much he normally wouldn’t have even stood at the door,
but he still wanted to convince her that she should stay
home.
“Honey,” he addressed her as she
crossed to the pile of clothing on the floor and started shaking
each item, listen for the jangle of keys, “You promised to quit
that job once the Porsche was paid off.”
She didn’t respond, pretended not to
hear. Charles stepped out of her path as she crossed the hall to
the bathroom and then moved on to his bedroom. He followed closely
behind her and took a seat on the edge of the bed. She rifled
through his drawers and his nightstand with no regard for the
person items. She opened the closet and began pulling everything
down from the high shelf. Charles could see that she was no longer
looking for the keys; she was vindictively tearing the room apart
in the hope that Charles would tell her where they were.
She snatched a small travel case off
the shelf and dropped it at her feet.
“Be careful, that was Mother’s,”
Charles blurted as he moved in to pick up the case.
She kicked it to the back of the closet
and sidestepped him as he lunged into the mess to retrieve the
valued item.
~ Charlie Boy, she has no
respect, you aren’t going to let her get away with that.
~
When Charles heaved himself to his feet
with the case in hand and turned back, he saw that Mariana had
flipped the mattress up and had her fist full of keys in her hand.
She spared a second to glare at him then started flipping through
the keys; it only took her a moment to realize that the key to her
car wasn’t there.
“You fat piece of chit, give me my
key!” she screamed and hurled the knot of keys at his
head.
Charles turned his face away and the
heavy set of keys slammed into the side of his head. Before he even
had a chance to turn back and confront her she had grabbed the
travel case from his hand. He fumbled after it as she lifted it
over her head and flung it across the room.
The mirror over the dresser shattered
from the impact and the little, hard leather box thumped to the
floor.
~ Charlie Boy! ~
Vaulting over the exposed box spring,
Charles dropped to his knees in front of the twisted box. The latch
had popped open and one of the hinges had broken. On the floor, a
few inches away, were the dried remnants of his Mother’s left hand.
Her wedding ring glimmered brightly against the tight, gnarled
skin.
“Oh, Mother…” Charles whispered. Slowly
he picked up the severed hand as if it were a tiny kitten. He
gently placed it back on the velvet padding inside the
box.
“What the fuck is… Oh, you seeck
bastard… you …” Mariana began backing towards the bedroom door, all
thoughts of her missing keys forgotten. Charles turned to face her
and the rage that he had carefully locked away for almost four
years came bursting out of him. The fear in her eyes was
gratifying. Mariana had been feeding his evil since the day of
their wedding, feeding it with every snide comment and cruel
~ Oh, my poor Charlie Boy.
I never did this to you; I wouldn’t starve my baby like this.
~
“You’re a peeg, you need to go to the
geem more, Charlie, how you espect me to go in public with
you?”
Charles fumbled with the lock and
finally got the door open. He refused to respond to her. If he let
her start in on him, she would degrade him until he was a broken
pile of self hate, a huddled mass of whimpering self loathing. The
way she talked to him made him want to lay down and die.
“Get out of the way,” Mariana said
pushing passed him and clomping across the apartment. She checked
the kitchen first, sometimes her keys ended up in the candy dish on
the counter, or in the junk drawer next to the fridge. Having no
luck there, she moved to the living room and then on to her
bedroom.
Charlie followed her down the hall and
stood at her door as she rummaged through the miscellaneous items
on the nightstand. He wasn’t allowed in her room. She valued her
privacy so much he normally wouldn’t have even stood at the door,
but he still wanted to convince her that she should stay
home.
“Honey,” he addressed her as she
crossed to the pile of clothing on the floor and started shaking
each item, listen for the jangle of keys, “You promised to quit
that job once the Porsche was paid off.”
She didn’t respond, pretended not to
hear. Charles stepped out of her path as she crossed the hall to
the bathroom and then moved on to his bedroom. He followed closely
behind her and took a seat on the edge of the bed. She rifled
through his drawers and his nightstand with no regard for the
person items. She opened the closet and began pulling everything
down from the high shelf. Charles could see that she was no longer
looking for the keys; she was vindictively tearing the room apart
in the hope that Charles would tell her where they were.
She snatched a small travel case off
the shelf and dropped it at her feet.
“Be careful, that was Mother’s,”
Charles blurted as he moved in to pick up the case.
She kicked it to the back of the closet
and sidestepped him as he lunged into the mess to retrieve the
valued item.
~ Charlie Boy, she has no
respect, you aren’t going to let her get away with that.
~
When Charles heaved himself to his feet
with the case in hand and turned back, he saw that Mariana had
flipped the mattress up and had her fist full of keys in her hand.
She spared a second to glare at him then started flipping through
the keys; it only took her a moment to realize that the key to her
car wasn’t there.
“You fat piece of chit, give me my
key!” she screamed and hurled the knot of keys at his
head.
Charles turned his face away and the
heavy set of keys slammed into the side of his head. Before he even
had a chance to turn back and confront her she had grabbed the
travel case from his hand. He fumbled after it as she lifted it
over her head and flung it across the room.
The mirror over the dresser shattered
from the impact and the little, hard leather box thumped to the
floor.
~ Charlie Boy! ~
Vaulting over the exposed box spring,
Charles dropped to his knees in front of the twisted box. The latch
had popped open and one of the hinges had broken. On the floor, a
few inches away, were the dried remnants of his Mother’s left hand.
Her wedding ring glimmered brightly against the tight, gnarled
skin.
“Oh, Mother…” Charles whispered. Slowly
he picked up the severed hand as if it were a tiny kitten. He
gently placed it back on the velvet padding inside the
box.
“What the fuck is… Oh, you seeck
bastard… you …” Mariana began backing towards the bedroom door, all
thoughts of her missing keys forgotten. Charles turned to face her
and the rage that he had carefully locked away for almost four
years came bursting out of him. The fear in her eyes was
gratifying. Mariana had been feeding his evil since the day of
their wedding, feeding it with every snide comment and cruel
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