Birth From The Waist

Chapter 20

“What is that?” he screeches, almost deafening me.

My body becomes weak, as my legs begin to wobble. “Its...Its...Its” I jabber with fear.

“What is it?” Alex howls a side I’ve never seen and hope to never encounter again.

Was I that idiotic to dispense of it in the kitchen? Why didn’t I throw elsewhere? God why are you doing this to me, after all your putting me through your putting me in more hot water.

“It’s my pill bottle,” I reply.

His chest moves back and forth as he inhales and exhales large gusts of air. His arms were shaking tremendously as he slowly removes contact from mine. He moves back my body cheering from relief, his frame had crushed me. My back ached, my brain ached and more importantly, so did my heart.

“Why are you taking this shit?” he growls.

“I...I...I’, was all I managed to squeal.

“You wanna know why you took it. It’s because you’re a fucking selfish bitch. You knew how bad I wanted to have another kid, and he we were thinking that we having some problems just like normal couples were. You kept me thinking of a child, you kept me trying for one hoping to be another father. But here you knew all along that you wouldn’t fall pregnant since you were digesting that poison,” he reveals.

Tears begin to flush down my face, “please let me explain”, I say.

He gives me a look of bewilderment. “Listen! What makes this shit even more fucked up is that you would lie their on your back as I would fuck you allowing me to think that I’m trying to impregnate you while you knew all along that it wouldn’t affect you.

How could you do that? You lied to me. You fooled me. How could you do this to me, crushing my dream, my ambition so instantly?”

My tears become heavier, my mascara and eyeliner conspicuously seen as it leaves a trail of black residue on my face; almost like the technique used in abstract art painting. A canvas demonstrating emotion and peculiar technique, a form only recognised by the artist, his misery, his joy.

Je me déteste!

“Just let me explain please Alex”, I plea.

“No you can’t explain you fucking idiot”, he retorts.

My face surprised as I hear his abuse. “Since when do you talk to me like that? You’ve never talked to me or even touched me like that before! Who are you?”

He chuckles sinisterly, “Who am I? Who are you? Ask yourself that question.

“I don’t care, it’s my body Alex, and you can’t take that away from me,” I criticise.

“Your body, fair enough. But put this in your mind - people are trying to have children out there, they can’t. Don’t you ever think that maybe God will punish you for what you’re doing and cause this damage permanently?

Come on answer me, you Christian, God’s angel”, he mocks.

“What do you think I am, a Fuddy-duddy? Is it my job only to cook, clean, look after Sammy and pleasure you while you do what the fuck you want”, I retort, my face red, as blood rushed to it, anger became my dual personality.

“I don’t give a shit anymore, I’m sick of this shit, sick of life, and sick of everything”, he says earnestly.

I chortle, masking my tears and my emotion. “Because that’s simply what you’re good at, enjoying life to the extreme as others suffer around you. You’re the selfish one Alex, the things you’ve done, the way I look at you has changed, everything has changed, for the worse”.

His body relaxes, and his skin colour evens out to its natural olive form. Sincerity returns to his eyes. “I care about you still. I’m angry because you don’t even know that you’re harming yourself. You’re fucking up your body up with that shit your swallowing, just so you don’t fall pregnant. You would rather ruin your body which in future could ruin your chance to conceive when you most desire just because you didn’t want to fall pregnant now. How stupid is that? You could have at least told me to wear a fucking condom!” he screeches.

I turn on my heel my back to him. “Just leave me alone,” I sob.

He stands there, my sixth sense responsive, his presence felt. He doesn’t move nor budge.

Please God forgive me. “Leave me alone!” I shriek. It was a cry that could be instantly heard by the neighbours. Never have I thought I’d break down like this, never! I talked about others, this is my medication, karma!

Alex stands there hesitantly for a moment; he immediately leaves the kitchen grabbing his keys from the bench. He walks out making no noise or no fuss for that matter, not wanting to attract the peeping-tom’s attention.

His car starts, and the sound of his truck could be heard from all the way up from the top of the street. I break down crying, my body slowly sliding against the cupboard. I hug my legs as my leggings become moist.

I sat there frozen in time, suddenly my phone sounds, a message.

I look up slowly, my eyes almost fixed shut, the residue had made them sticky. I carefully get up, and slowly trek to the phone.

New Message (2)

It looks like curiosity just killed the cat. Let’s just hope he doesn’t wrap his car around a pole.

-Sherlock

I slam the phone down, a new set of continuous tears meet the bench. He was listening; he was listening to every single word of what we were saying. Watching us!

Jesus Christ please help me, I beg you, please help me.

***

Sitting there I take my notebook out, I make a memo; ‘relationship fractured’. There was more to come to her and her pathetic imbecile of a husband.

My phone rings, Sergeant David, my good friend. I pick up the phone hoping he had replaced my gadget. It still astounds me how shifty officers could still be. I guess this was just a case of bad cop. A couple of stolen programs and you could do whatever the hell you wanted.

Walking over to the wall, I remove a dart from the board just above my book case. There situated, its spine conspicuous of any view was my favourite novel, The Valley of Fear, a Sherlock classic.

A large poster hung on the wall in German, it read, Ersatzweise, Ersatzweise, and Ersatzweise.

I walk carefully around the room taking in the voice of the officer. He stares at me, his eyes piercing holes through my flesh, killing me. The poster that adhered to the hard surface of the wall was a large image of Alex.

I hold the dart tightly in my fist and with that I thrust my hand forward and stab it directly into his forehead. Bullseye!

Too bad it wasn’t the real thing. Who knows? I could get the real one next time. “Einfach malabwarten und sehen! (German). (Just have to wait and see.

** Will be uploading very soon, just waiting from some positive reviews and creative criticism. Thank You for your support beautiful people. Hope you enjoyed the cliffhanger.