Dripping

There was blood dripping as she laid the knife down.  Tanya looked down, saw the red on her hands, tried washing it off.  James lay open eyed on the floor.  He was slightly breathing.  A painful sounding whistle escaped with every exhale.  She had stabbed him, just above the diaphragm.  It was the last time she would  let anyone try to hit her.



They seemed a happy couple.  Average white American high school sweethearts. They married, bought a small bungalow type house.  A garden in back for her and a work shed for him. They had wanted and prayed for the day they would have children, but had not yet been blessed. This is why James had to punish Tanya, because he was perfect and it could not be him that was the cause of the missing piece of his so-called life.



It started with just a slap here, a push there.  A few times when picking stuff off the floor, she would get the wind knocked out of her.  He kicked her to make her move out of his way.  Dinner was late, he slammed a frying pan into the side of her head, to teach her to be on time.



It was no longer so happy.  Here he was, coming full steam ahead.  Fists cocked and ready to teach her yet another lesson. She had just finished washing the knife. Her great-grandmother’s 15 inch butcher knife, that was a wedding present from her mother.



Tanya turned holding the knife outward.  James impaled himself, the knife slipping out as he fell to the floor. The look of pain and surprise crossed his face as he realized what she had done. His eyes wide open, yet the world was fading to black.



There was blood dripping as she laid the knife down. Tanya looked down, saw the red on her hands, tried washing it off, and continued with the dishes. She did not want to make him mad that they hand not been done before she went to bed. 



Word Count: 339