Home Sweet Home

I sped down the dark and lonely highway in my nineteen sixty-seven Corvette Stingray. Rain beat down on the roof of my car as I listened to 'Tight Rope' by Stevie Ray Vaughan; one of my favorite musicians since I was a young man. It was eleven p.m. Friday night and I was just getting back into town from a three week business trip which lasted a week too long. I was exhausted and ready to get home to my wife and daughter.

I thought of Marie, my beautiful wife of eight years. The thought of her long brown hair, big brown eyes, and smile that could light up any room made me forget all about the stress of my job. My seven year old daughter Lindsey would be asleep in her bed with that peaceful look on her face. No worries in the world. How I miss my childhood. Suddenly I was interrupted by that too familiar Nicotine craving. I pulled out the last cigarette in the package and tossed the empty carton in the back seat. As I pushed in the cigarette lighter I turned down the radio and retrieved the cell phone from my shirt pocket. I was only an hour away from home, but I wanted to check in anyway.

The phone rang four times before there was an answer. "Hello?"

"Hey, baby. You wasn't asleep were you?" I asked.

"No, I'm laying in bed watching TV. Lindsey has been out since nine. How much longer will you be?"

"I'll be there in about an hour. It's raining pretty hard so it's kind of hard to see," I replied as the cigarette lighter popped out and I lit up.

"Well, be careful. If I'm asleep when you get here just wake me up. I miss you.

"I miss you too. I'll see you when I get there, I love you."

"I lov ..." was the last thing I heard before the line ended.

I held the phone out and looked to see if I lost signal, but the reception was fine. Maybe I hung up on accident. I closed my phone and set it in the console and took a long drag. I exhaled and my body and nerves relaxed like a Heroine addict after his first bump. The windshield whippers jerked rapidly back and forth and I cracked the window about an inch to let some smoke out. I turned the radio up and drove home thinking nothing more of the abrupt end to our conversation.



1 HR AND NINE MINUTES LATER



I pulled in the driveway of my 250,000 dollar brick house and pressed the button on the automatic garage door opener. I had to wait about five second for the door to go all the way up, but I was in no hurry; I was home. I parked the car and got out as the garage door shut behind me. My bags and paper work could wait till morning. I was ready to see my girls and get a good nights rest.

The door opened smoothly and the smell of comfort hit my nose. A smile started to form as I sighed and said to myself, "Home, sweet home." I laid my coat and keys on the bar and headed to my daughters room, but right when I rounded the corner I was hit with a heavy blow to my heart with what I seen. The hurt, the anger, the guilt, all of these emotions quickly running through my mind. I fell to my knees and held my wife in my arms. She was laying in a pool of her own blood with her neck deeply sliced open and both of her eyes removed from her skull and nowhere to be found. Her long hair now sticky with blood and her white robe stained in red. One of her house shoes were still on, but the other by the fireplace. I held her tight in my arms slapping her face and shaking her head trying to wake her even though I already knew she was dead. Maybe somewhere deep down with any hope I had left I thought maybe she would come back, but it was useless. Marie was dead.

I screamed out in anger as tears poured down my face. I cursed God and myself. Why me? Why me? I continued to ask myself this question, but I could not find an answer. As I cried and bawled, drool lingered out of my mouth and dripped on my white Polo, which was covered in that thick red goo that pumps through each and every one of us. Any rational thoughts I had were blocked by the craziness that clogged my mind.

I gently laid Marie's head on the soaked carpet and stood up. I stared at myself in the mirror and thought, 'how quick a life can flash before your eyes.' My life was over, there was no point in living. I reached over and took the letter opener from the pencil holder. My mind went dull and my gaze went blank. I held the sharp blade to my neck and it gleamed in the light as my pulse began to race. My adrenaline increased as if I was about to sky dive from 40,000 feet. My breathing picked up and the vain on the right side of my neck began to protrude. My grip tightened and I yelled while jamming the letter opener into that bulging vain. The pain was unrelenting, but as I faded the sweet release of life felt like nothing I have ever experienced. It felt good. I fell to me knees and in the mirror behind me was Lindsey, my daughter. My reason for living. But it was too late. When I found my wife, the shock was so unbearable I had forgotten about anything else that mattered in my life. I was thinking only of myself. Lindsey stood there with tears rolling off her cheeks as I fell backward on the floor beside Marie as death enveloped my body.