Knots

Knots

"Thirty five years we've been married," she said, with reddened eyes.

One thing's for sure, my wife had always been able to tie me up in knots. I could never win an argument with her. In time I'd learned not to bother trying.

"Thirty five years," she repeated.

Pulling a packet of cigarettes from her purse, she turned to look through the car's open window.

"Why?" she asked.

I couldn't answer. In all our time together I'd never taken interest in another woman... until Sarah.

"Because she was younger, slimmer, prettier, better in bed?"

All those things were true, but they weren't the reason for my infidelity.

"Or was it because I couldn't give you the child you'd always wanted?" she continued, striking a match.

Her words stung. I wanted to say "I'm sorry", to plead with her, but again... I just couldn't get the words out. Instead I watched as she lit her cigarette and inhaled deeply. She held the smoke in for a moment before blowing it back through flaring nostrils.

"Well I hope you'll be really happy together," she scowled, tossing the match through the window.

I struggled again, but it was no use, her knots were too tight. The rope burned into my wrists and ankles as the match fell onto Sarah's blood-stained dress. I tried to scream, but the duct-tape sealing my lips silenced me once more.

Pushing myself up on the back seat, I looked through the side window straight into the eyes of my wife's tear streaked face, before she turned and carrying the petrol can, walked slowly towards the trees.