The Alarm

The alarm clock buzzed in the dark.

The sound was sudden, without warning, a stark contrast to the dead silence of the night. A pair of eyes snapped open to the sound, a green mixed with gold to give it a beautiful jade color. Her long eyelashes fluttered as she tried to see where the alarm clock rested. Its numbers were flashing, and as it buzzed, it vibrated, making ripples form in the glass of milk that rested beside it.

As she reached out, the drink was knocked over in her sleepy haze. The pearly white milk dropped to the carpet, not breaking the glass, but spilling the liquid all over the side of the nighstand and the wall. The woman shut off the alarm clock, before looking at the mess she had made. Groaning, she swung her legs over to the side of the bed, doing this past the fog that clouded her vision and the numbness that had taken over her movements. "Great." she muttered, rubbing her temples and frowning so much that her chapped lips began to sting and crack. As she pursed them tight in frustration, she got up to clean the mess.

On her way out of her room, she managed to catch a glimpse of her face in the full-length mirror. Surprised, she stopped. The woman jumped at what she'd thought she'd seen. She took a step towards the mirror, ready to look again, before reaching out and turning on the lamp. Surely, she thought with distain, I must have been seeing things.

But as she looked at herself, she realized that she had not been mistaken. This woman in front of her was nothing like the woman she used to be. But it was her, the woman that was in her pajamas, the one engraved with her name on the front: Caroline.

But where was the spark in her eye? Caroline looked into her infamous jade orbs, waiting for the special gleam that had always been a part of her cheery charm. But instead, she noticed, that there was no spark. Nothing, not even a twinkle. But they had changed. Instead of the vibrant green, she was looking into the eyes of someone troubled, the color washed out nearly to the point of turning gray. She searched for words, and found them in the recess of her frown: Dull, ugly...she thought, finally, lifeless.

Horrified, Caroline forced herself to watch her expression darken. She took notice of the lines seeping from the corners of her eyes, and working their way around her mouth.

Where was her youthful glow? The sun-kissed skin that had always looked best wrapped in a soft silvery blue? Where was the smile that was radiant and confident, along with just a little bit of vanity? Caroline bit back a scream and touched the side of her face. The skin underneith was not soft and new, but rugged, and riddled with new dimmensions and flaws that she had not fully realized until now. As she touched the lock of hair that was falling from her ponytail, she lifted the hair into the light provided by the lamp. In between the strands of pale blonde, she could see clearly, the small whisps of gray caught inbetween. The color of silver, like the rusted sword that hung in her husband's office, polished but faintly chipped.

When had this happened? Caroline dropped the lock of hair, unable to grasp it firmly with her shaking hand. When had she aged so? Caroline thought of her own mother, of the change that had gradually taken over. Step by step, her mother had begun to whither, but the signs had been clear and easy to see. One year, her eyes had begun to sink in, the next, her skin seemed too big for her. It was all things she was able to control, one simple change at a time.

But this was nothing like the way her mother aged.

As she stepped away from her own image, she gasped when the milk instantly cooled the bottom of her foot. Remembering the mess, she stumbled into the kitchen to look for the cleaning supplies. Forcing the previous discovery from her mind, she only thought about the task before her. Touching the granite countertop, Caroline thought of the first night in her new home. Where her husband Jack had tapped the very same countertops, replying: So much better, he had told her, I can feel it. Our troubles are over. It was then he had kissed her hard on the mouth and told her surely, here, things will get so much better.

Caroline sighed, running her own hand along his path. "But they didn't..." she managed. "Did they?"

The silence answered her retorical question. Caroline swallowed past the lump in her throat and turned her head to the kitchen table. Every once in a blue moon, they would eat there like an actual family. Her daughter would always glance between the two of them, as if waiting for both of them to explode. At first, Caroline had tried to keep her emotions at bay, by being silent. But her silence had only angered Jack, as if it was worse than the names she wanted to call him. I don't deserve this, he would rant as she forced herself to look down, biting her food slowly and without hunger. I work six days a week, the least I deserve is for you to talk to me.

Caroline felt her anger flare at the memory. And of her daughter's remarks. I'm going to eat in my room. Because the thought of being around a nuclear time bomb had taken its toll. Caroline would always let her go, relieved that at least she could no longer hear her father's hateful words. Though he doesn't realize it, the image of him is being distorted all the time. Not long, now, she will only see him for what he is.

"Unloyal." Caroline managed as she bent her head. "A lie." This, at least, seemed to calm her down. Watching the tile of her kitchen floor become a blur, she choked back a sob. "There is so much yelling, all the time." Caroline looked at the clock on the oven. "He could not even make it home tonight."

Her mind shot back. Could not? It questioned. It was never a question of possibility. He just didn't want to. He promised you he'd be home by midnight. You silly fool, you believed him. You set the alarm just to prove to yourself he would be there when you awoke.

Caroline wiped the tears that were slowly seeping from her eyes. She thought of the first time she had fought back agianst his rage. Releasing all of her thoughts with a simple question: Why am I not good enough for you?

The response, had only been hurtful, and caused more yelling.

Over the years, it only got worse. Grudges were held and feelings were hurt. Now, with her daughter off at college, Caroline began to realize that there was no longer a reason for Jack to come home. They became strangers, only seeing each other through glances past the coffee mug and the morning newspaper. The conversations from then on were ones that were nearly unbearable in their ordinary hate. It should rain today. I'd like my coffee with two teaspoons of sugar. I washed your suit, it's hanging by the door.

I'll be home late, don't wait up.


Caroline decided that the mess in her bedroom would have to wait. As memories flowed, her heart lead her to her husband's office. There were pictures of him, and of their daughter. And one was of her. But they were all seperate, none of them together.

Why was she living like this?

Because I cannot give my mother the satisfaction of knowing she was right. Because I want to make this work.

Even at the price of her own health?

It's true. All of this has aged me so. I fear that all of this stress has been putting my body under so many conditions. I wait for him, so I do not get enough sleep when I go to work. Because I yell so much, I find I often cannot talk. Because I do not love him, I do not want to reach out. What good has that done in the past, anyway? Caroline looked at the sword that hung above the wall. It was an old family heirloom, relating back from his great great great grandfather. It was one of Jack's most prized possession. The other used to be me.

With a tender grasp, Caroline took hold of the sword. It seemed to gleam, the way her eyes used to. Either way, it had taken her place long ago. Running her finger along the sharp edge, she managed to reply. "Who am I fooling?" she whispered. "There is no point in saving something that is already dead." sighing, she sat in the mahogony chair and admitted. "There was no major event in our lives that made us this way. There was no devistating loss. We just...grew apart." Watching her face through the shiny surface of the sword, she realized she was silently sobbing. With a heavy heart, Caroline sighed. It did not ease the pain.

"Jack, when you come home. I'll be waiting. For the last time." wiping her eyes, she felt a smile peak through. A soft and weak smile, but it was a smile at least. Though she was hurt, she felt as though the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders. Caroline stood, swinging the sword and cutting the open air, she declared. "Jack, I will finally let you go."

As she stood, she jerked when the phone suddenly sprung to life. Screeching, she set down the sword and raced to it. She knew who it was, and she knew what had to be said. As she grabbed the phone, Caroline pressed it to her ear. "Hello?" she asked, politely.

But the voice on the phone was not Jack's. It was rough and hard, like gravel. "Mrs. Pike?" the man adressed. "I'm with the police department." as he paused, Caroline drew a breath. "I'm sorry to inform you that your husband has been involved in a car crash."

For the longest time, she stood there. She knew very well it was true and that it was not a joke. Caroline waited, before she finally responded. "Jack?" she questioned, before the voice on the other line replied gently.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Pike." the man concluded. "Your husband is dead."