A Sip of Memory

    She stood above the body, watching as blood seeped through the wounds and creeped towards her bare feet. Her eyes stared blankly at the man beneath her, they dropped to the knife she gripped tightly in her trembling hands. The only sounds in the room were the sounds of the blood dripping from the blade she held.

    She walked slowly towards the corpse, shards of glass cracked beneath her feet as she moved towards the dining table on the other side of the room. She left in her wake bloody footprints, marking every step she took. She pulled out the chair she always sat on, folded her dress the way she was taught and sat down. She laid the knife on the table as she straightened her back and crossed her legs just like he expected her too. She looked at the perfectly laid out dinner, and grabbed the fork and knife cutting and eating with precise movements and perfection. All her movements were exquisitely aligned, a dance of decorum just like he taught her.

    As she ate, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror hung in front of her. A strange woman stared back, her beautiful yellow dress was stained with red, her perfect bun was a mess, and her make up was ruined from the black smudges beneath her eyes. Tearing her gaze away from the glass, she took the bottle of wine and poured some in a glass. Tears ran silently down her cheeks as she drank, for with every sip she remembered

Sip: the day she decided to marry him

Sip: the day her back hurt and couldn’t wash the dishes and he slapped her

Sip: the day she couldn’t get pregnant and it was her fault

Sip: the day she called her parents for help and it just got worse

Sip: the day he used her as a punching bag

Sip: the day he stopped apologizing

Sip: the day he didn’t stop when she begged him to

Sip: the day she lost her unborn child because he pushed and she fell down the stairs

Sip: the day she ran away and he found her

Sip: the day he locked her in their room for days

Sip: the day she fought back

   She frowned as she stared at the lipstick marring the glass of wine, “fought back” she thought. Her eyes widened with what might have been shock then it quickly changed into a smile. She turned around to look at the body one more time, and when she did she burst out into hysterical laughter, dropping the glass she held, but it didn’t matter, not anymore, because the broken lifeless corpse on the floor was hers.


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