Unforgivable

Charles slowly pulled the piece of metal from Tom’s stomach. The sight of the bloody fingerprints where his hand had gripped the steel was more than he could handle.

Tom watched as Charles retched in the bushes. He pulled himself along the sidewalk and wrapped his arm around the crumpled man. “Think of me while you rot in prison,” he whispered.

Charles jerked away and turned his back on the man who had been his best friend for over twenty years. He couldn’t believe what Tom had done. Even though he knew his sin was unforgivable, he still couldn’t believe Tom would go that far to get even. 

He had tried to pull the metal away from Tom, but it had done no use. Tom was smarter. He had used Charles’s on strength against him, thrusting the cold steel deeply into his own stomach.

The gurgling sound of Tom’s last breaths brought Charles around. He moved to his friend’s side and held his hand. “I’m sorry, Tom. So sorry.”

Although there was no rational way he could know what Tom meant, Charles believed the slight squeeze of his hand meant he was sorry, too. Not that the mutual apologizes were going to do either one of them any good. 

 

And Claire. 

It had been bad enough when Tom had caught Charles and Claire in bed together. The pain and humiliation on her face had almost broken Charles’s heart. He didn’t know if she would be able to handle the shame that would be heaped upon her shoulders when everyone found out the reason for Tom’s death. And he wouldn’t be there to help her through it.

As the flashing blue lights of the first police car reached him, Charles thought the person who was going to be hurt the most was the woman both men had loved, and he wondered if maybe that hadn’t been Tom’s intent. His friend had always had a vindictive streak.

My Own Terms

Sam,

I didn’t know how to tell you so decided I’d write you instead. 

I’m leaving.

I know you’ll pretend to miss me, and the children will be devastated, but I can’t stay. And even though I know it’s not her fault, every time I look at Daniela, I see her mother. Before I start treating her differently, I need to leave.

Please tell my mother I love her. It’s the least you can do after all I’ve done for you. 

I thought about divorcing you, but that wouldn’t really solve anything. Daniela would expect to come visit with Becky, and I’d still be forced to live the lie I’ve been living the last five years. I still can’t believe you talked me into lying to everyone, even my own child, but then again, maybe it is for the best.

It’s not Daniela’s fault, and I’d hate for Becky, or anyone for that matter, to treat her differently. She really is a beautiful little girl, just like her mother. I hope that’s the only thing she takes after the woman. I’d hate for Daniela to turn into the self-centered, husband-stealing woman her mother is. 

Although she didn’t steal you, did she? No, she just used you and left me with a child. 

Anyway, we’ve been over this before. I know you’ll find someone to take my place soon. And she’ll not have the problem I do. Neither child will be hers. I hope she treats them well.

It’s almost time for you to get home so I’ll close. I’m using the Glock. I know it’s your favorite.

Please keep the children from seeing the mess.

                                                                                                                                     Mary

End of the Line

Emily stood on the edge of the cliff. She thought of her children and her husband. She thought of her parents, brothers, and sisters. She thought of her friends.

She thought of them, and she cared. She knew her husband, children and family all loved her. 

It just wasn’t enough.

No one could make the pain go away. No one could make her happy. No matter how much they tried, and Emily knew they had tried their best. 

It just didn’t matter.

Emily said a prayer and whispered goodbye to her family. 

It was over in just one step.

Family Matters

My newest micro fiction piece for Three Word Wednesday. Hope y'all like this one.

Amber gave no thought to controlling the amount of pressure she applied to the flesh of her wrist with the razor. By that point, she was beyond caring how big a mess she made in her mother’s life.