~ torn ~ 23

23 Oct

(previous chapters can be accessed through the ARCHIVES calendar)


Ron now lay sprawled on his back.
Left shirtsleeve riding up his arm.
Soft inner crook of elbow exposed.

Julia walked around the bed.
Nudged him roughly.
He barely responded.
She knelt.
Set the box on the floor.
Opened it.
Took a syringe.
Filled it from one of the green ampoules.
Laid the syringe back in the box.
Took the second syringe.
Filled it from another bottle.
Ron mumbled.
Julia cocked her head.

“What’s that you say, Ron? ‘Party-hearty’?
I agree. You should go out in style.”

Julia grabbed Ron’s forearm.
Constricted it until a bulging blue vein took shape.
She plunged the needle in.
Ron let out a low moan as the syringe emptied.

“Hang on Ron, ‘darling‘, the fun is just starting.”

She laid the syringe back inside the box.
Picked up the second syringe.
Her fingertips on his neck bulged a vein.
The needle punctured his skin.
The second cylinder slowly emptied.
Ron exhaled loudly.
His body stiffened.
Fists clenched.
Julia placed that empty syringe on Ron’s nightstand.
She gently toed the open box partway under the bed.
Gazed at Ron for a few moments.
His lips trembled. Nostrils flared.

Julia slowly walked to the bathroom.
Removed the surgical gloves.
Held them over the toilet.
Cut them into tiny little pieces with vanity scissors.
Flushed them away.
She stepped in front of the bathroom mirror.
Shed the sports jersey and threw it on the floor.
Pushed hair from her face.
She studied her reflection.
Affected a tough look.







“I told you before, don’t ever fuck with me, bitch.”

Julia returned to the foot of the bed.
Looked at Ron one last time.
Now on the way to a well-deserved private Hell.
She picked up an afghan from the overstuffed chair in the corner.
Wrapped up in it.
Stepped out onto the balcony.
Sat in one of matching rattan chairs.
She would wait until the morning fog burned off once again.
Then call the police.




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