Her knuckle stroked gently up the back of his thigh. Gooseflesh rippled gently from the contact and she smiled quietly. So peaceful at this point. Always her favourite time. Just after. When she seemed intact, in focus and happy. Things were just so much clearer this way. No fuzziness to get in the way. Just a lovely crisp sense of everything. Like the world was all cut glass and clear borders.

Before, she’d felt the horrible knot in her gut. She called it the ‘worm’. It writhed uncomfortably and stole her words, shouted over her thoughts and made her hungry and sick at the same time. She hated the worm. She thought he wouldn’t come in on the doorstep, like maybe he could tell that there was something not right with her, that he could see in to her insides and see that ugly little knotted thing. She always thought of it as some dark glistening creature, sensing when she least wanted it. But he came in anyway, whether he had seen or not.

She sat at the edge of the bed and wished he could see her now, all clear and beautiful. Emerging, this was when she liked herself the most. But no, he was drifting off, the way they always do after. After their fun. Another mess to clean up, and he’d be no help whatsoever.

The mirror stretched from the cabinet to near the ceiling on the far side of the room. In it, she could see just how perfect she was now. Lighting the cigarette she shifted to see his back, behind her. It heaved as his breath slowed. The stain was visible on the bed too, where the sheets were pulled back. It was a fun little decadent scene. Like a conquered enemy in a pool of his own making. Well, she helped.

He wasn’t as much fun like this though. Not like when they’d met. He was all dark hair and piercing eyes before, totally perfect – moody, quiet and just inscrutable enough to be a fun puzzle. Even after a few drinks he hadn’t properly talked. Short answers and little thoughtful glances to his feet. How fantastic. How satisfying. Like unravelling a ball of twine. And there he was, on her bed, all unravelled.

Smoke fluted out of her nostrils and curled round her hair. Bliss.

But those little snow-globe moments don’t last do they? No. She’d have to get rid of him. ‘Dispose of the evidence.’ She smiled again. This was such good fun. Naughty, but fun. A weekend treat to blow away the cobwebs. And the cleaning up was a kind of fun too. So, might as well get on with it.

Coiling her body over next to his she went to whisper to him, a message of shared wickedness, a little playground code. He didn’t respond. So still now. Out like a light. Like they always were.

And with the knife she put another notch in the bedpost.

The following two tabs change content below.

• Bio
• Latest Posts

Chris Warrington

Chris is an English/Film Studies teacher, film blogger and sometimes corporate scriptwriter (yes, it's a thing). He wants to write a lot more but it always ends up being about squids or murder. Sometimes it's even murderous squids, in space.

Latest posts by Chris Warrington (see all)

• Can you fly, Bobby? - 06/01/16
• Can you fly, Bobby? - 11/09/15
• Tradition - 19/08/15
• Clarity - 06/08/15