The hydracropsychic effect
folder
Angst › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
10
Views:
848
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Angst › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
10
Views:
848
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Within arms reach.
~Within arms reach~ Chap 3.
He had woken up that morning with thoughts of death on his mind. This was not unusual as his thoughts often took a turn toward the more morbid side of life. That morning his gruesome thoughts were centered upon his own demise. He went through the day as normally as possible. Nobody at the library where he worked noticed anything amiss about him. This was probably for the best as he was quite certain that if anyone had asked he would have revealed his whole plan.
Although the thought of suicide was quite recent he already had a solid plan. He sounded perfectly natural as he bid farewell to his colleagues. He was even able to maintain his composure as he purchased the gasoline and butane lighter, although his hands shook slightly. He smiled back at the idiot at the register. What the fuck do you think I plan to do have a barbecue? He wanted to shout this question to the fool. His conscience was starting to get to him. He needed to get the job done and quick.
He knew shed be sleeping when he returned home, the lazy bitch. The children would have been put to bed hours ago. As he drove quickly home, his damp hands clutched the steering wheel and every siren he heard set his heart pounding in his ears. He parked at the end of the street and unloaded his purchases. He had dressed all in black that morning, anticipating his fucking neighbors would be home, and indeed they were.
He paused at the threshold of his lovely home. Did he really want to do this, instead of just getting a divorce? Could he do this to his innocent children? He found the answer to all of these questions was a resounding "Yes!" He stepped into the place that had been his home for 7 years. He looked around at the family portraits, the décor his wife had so painstakingly assembled, the baby's rattle lying forgotten in a corner, and he felt nothing.
It was all so easily replaceable. His freedom, happiness, his sanity, it was all within arms reach. All he had to do was light one match, and an entire seven years would go up in smoke and flames. He moved quickly and quietly, so his wife wouldn't awaken. He spread gasoline throughout the house.
He wandered into the children's room and he watched them, so angelic in their slumber. He prayed they made it out alive somehow. He bent and placed his lips gently on each of their foreheads. "Sleep tight my little ones," he crooned as he closed the door softly behind him. Then he went into his bedroom to see HER.
She lay sprawled across the bed in a skimpy negligee, her mouth slack, with a bottle dangling from her hand. There was a dark spot on the carpet where the alcohol had spilled. More fuel for the fire he thought wickedly. He walked into their shared bathroom and lifted the hem of his shirt to reveal her jagged claw marks across his chest and belly. They were thin and spidery in the weak light, and he noticed the darkness concealed his already healing shiner. He let the anger boil inside him, and stared accusingly at the cause of all his pain and misery. You will never be able to hurt the children or me again he thought with conviction.
He had woken up that morning with thoughts of death on his mind. This was not unusual as his thoughts often took a turn toward the more morbid side of life. That morning his gruesome thoughts were centered upon his own demise. He went through the day as normally as possible. Nobody at the library where he worked noticed anything amiss about him. This was probably for the best as he was quite certain that if anyone had asked he would have revealed his whole plan.
Although the thought of suicide was quite recent he already had a solid plan. He sounded perfectly natural as he bid farewell to his colleagues. He was even able to maintain his composure as he purchased the gasoline and butane lighter, although his hands shook slightly. He smiled back at the idiot at the register. What the fuck do you think I plan to do have a barbecue? He wanted to shout this question to the fool. His conscience was starting to get to him. He needed to get the job done and quick.
He knew shed be sleeping when he returned home, the lazy bitch. The children would have been put to bed hours ago. As he drove quickly home, his damp hands clutched the steering wheel and every siren he heard set his heart pounding in his ears. He parked at the end of the street and unloaded his purchases. He had dressed all in black that morning, anticipating his fucking neighbors would be home, and indeed they were.
He paused at the threshold of his lovely home. Did he really want to do this, instead of just getting a divorce? Could he do this to his innocent children? He found the answer to all of these questions was a resounding "Yes!" He stepped into the place that had been his home for 7 years. He looked around at the family portraits, the décor his wife had so painstakingly assembled, the baby's rattle lying forgotten in a corner, and he felt nothing.
It was all so easily replaceable. His freedom, happiness, his sanity, it was all within arms reach. All he had to do was light one match, and an entire seven years would go up in smoke and flames. He moved quickly and quietly, so his wife wouldn't awaken. He spread gasoline throughout the house.
He wandered into the children's room and he watched them, so angelic in their slumber. He prayed they made it out alive somehow. He bent and placed his lips gently on each of their foreheads. "Sleep tight my little ones," he crooned as he closed the door softly behind him. Then he went into his bedroom to see HER.
She lay sprawled across the bed in a skimpy negligee, her mouth slack, with a bottle dangling from her hand. There was a dark spot on the carpet where the alcohol had spilled. More fuel for the fire he thought wickedly. He walked into their shared bathroom and lifted the hem of his shirt to reveal her jagged claw marks across his chest and belly. They were thin and spidery in the weak light, and he noticed the darkness concealed his already healing shiner. He let the anger boil inside him, and stared accusingly at the cause of all his pain and misery. You will never be able to hurt the children or me again he thought with conviction.