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 |  A Place for My Creations |
It is the intentions that define who the The true person is. The fine line is permeable. All can move back and forth. It is the situation that brings it out. People with the right intentions can do the wrong things. Phillip G. Zimbardo December 2023 "When you hit rock bottom you got two ways to go. Straight up and sideways." Lisa Hinkley finished singing along. “You got that right, girlfriend,” she squealed, and in one quick motion, she shook her loose, thick, blond hair forward and back, then placed the back of her head against the headrest. The brakes screeched as she eased the candy-apple-red Mustang into the snow-covered driveway and glided to her final destination—the back door steps of the brown and white, western-style ranch house. It was a stately site. It stood tall and strong. Nestled in the middle of the Colton Drive cul-de-sac, it viewed the small neighborhood as if it were a sentry. A sentry standing guard. Enveloped in complete silence, she withdrew her CD, The Judd’s Greatest Hits, from the player, and gently placed it, along with her keys, in her purse. “You’re safe for now,” she whispered, closing her purse with a final pat. Christmas Eve had arrived. Lisa’s favorite time of the year. The entire neighborhood was dressed and decorated. Carolers strolled onto Colton Dr., spreading their Christmas joy. Multi-colored lights, some blinking, some not, adorned the outside of the houses while displaying the Christmas trees, each embellished with loving care, through their proud, smiling windows. Lisa’s house was different. There were no decorations, no lights, no smiling windows, and no Christmas tree. Jayden had sternly voiced that it was too expensive, as he snatched the snow globe from her hands and shattered it against the wall. She had asked permission to buy some decorations for the house. It wasn't the thought of no Christmas decorations that brought tears to her eyes, it was the snow globe. It was the last gift her father was able to give to her. She was seven. Lisa felt an eerie quietness about the night. The house in front of her looked cold, dark, and unhappy, but that was not unusual, besides that, she was sure that Jaden was inside. She took a deep breath and puffed it out through pursed lips, and watched as small misty clouds appeared and disappeared. Shrugging her shoulders, she grabbed the two bags and the bucket of KFC and stepped out of the car. Its aroma melted with the warm smokey campfire-ish smells rising from the neighborhood chimneys. With a nervous twinge in her stomach, she hoped the KFC would ease the tension at home—after all, it was Jayden’s favorite. The snow began to fall again. Lisa took five more minutes so she could watch the tiny flakes fluttering to the ground. It fell so softly from the sky like cotton candy floating down. Lisa shook her head and made herself focus on the task at hand. Crump, crump, crump the grinding ice crystals beneath her feet seemed to echo as she made her way towards the back door. She hoped that this would be the time that the wooden door hadn’t swelled from the dampness and become stuck. Holding her breath, she gave the door knob a slight twist and pushed it open. A feeling of relief swept over her, but she couldn’t deny the quick chill that she felt shiver its way up and down her spine as she passed through the doorway. She transferred the bucket of chicken to her right arm and placed the two bags on top. She stretched out her left arm and placed her hand on the wall. With caution, she groped her way along the wall into the kitchen and switched on the light. She turned to set her purse, the bucket, and the bags on the kitchen island, she frowned as the brand-new knife set that Jayden had given her two days ago caught her eye. She touched her left eye gently and rubbed the tips of her left fingers over the bruise. He claimed that was an early Christmas gift. “Let’s get this over with,” she sighed. “Jayden are you home, hon?” her only answer was an ominous silence. She rubbed her hands together, cupped them over her mouth, and blew a couple of warm breaths through them. The ice cubes that were her fingers went from feeling frozen and dead with numbness to feeling cold and alive with tingling. “Sorry, I’m late. Work was a nightmare. I brought your…” She didn't see see his fist coming. It was so fast and so shocking. The right side of her chin back to her ear, screamed with pain. She felt herself spin and watched the room blur. She heard the thud of her body hitting the floor, rather than felt it. Warm blood spewed from her nose and mouth forming a puddle beneath her right cheek. She tried to brace herself, but it was too late. His right boot toe came crashing down, kicking her in the abdomen. She lay on the floor, in a fetal position, moaning. Gasping for air, she couldn’t breathe. Sharp pain struck again, radiating down through her body as if it were a bolt of lightning. Jayden jerked her to her feet by her hair. “Stand up, you bitch!” She could hear the slur of his words and smell the stench of his whiskey. “I wanna talk to you! Where in the hell have you been? It is six o’clock, and I’m hungry! Lisa managed to find her feet and distribute her weight on her weak, but wobbly legs. “I…I…” “Shut the fuck up and fix me something to eat.” He gulped another shot of Jack Daniels and slammed his fist against her chin. She spun around and fell against the kitchen island. Lisa froze. She pressed her chest flat against its surface and clasped its edges with a firm grip. She could feel Jayden’s presence behind her. She looked up and saw the wooden block of knives one or two inches from her right hand. “Sweet Jesus,” she whispered. Without thinking, she reached up and grabbed the closest knife, pushed herself back up, spun around, and thrust the blade into his left upper chest. Blood splattered everywhere. Instinctively, she threw her hands up, still holding the knife. Lisa gasped as Jayden’s blood quickly poured out of his body and soaked its way down his shirt, then his pants, making its way to the floor. The look of surprise faded into one of horror. His eyes rolled back and he collapsed. The scream felt stuck in her throat. Staring at the knife still in her shaking, right hand, her fingers flew open. She watched as the knife appeared to float towards the floor. Before settling next to Jayden's body, it bounced up and down several times. Lisa stood there—staring. The exanimate body looked as cold as the stoneware tile floor upon which it lay. Her face drained and knots rose in her gut. She choked on the blood that trickled down from her nose, through her esophagus, and into her stomach. Soaring through her body, feelings of an adrenaline rush, wooziness, and fear. Together, they intermingled and took turns masking and intensifying each other. She knew...She killed him...She really killed him! Her abdominal muscles began to contract. After several violent convulsions, it gave way to chunks of undigested food covered in chyme, propelled it into the air, and landed all over Jayden's lifeless, left leg and the tiled floor upon which it laid. She had to move...to go...to get away. She grabbed her purse, which sat next to the knife block and bolted out the back door. |
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