Stay

Word count: 527

Tick… Tock... Tick... Tock... My mouth feels thick. Parched, I run a hot, dry tongue over my cracked lips. Blood. It may be the last thing I taste for the rest of my life. The clock reads 11:57 P.M. I watch the saline drip from one of the IV bags. The one that is supposed to stop my heart. I would look away except another bag hangs on the other side. Just in case the first one fails. I close my eyes.
She sits in my lap, gazing down at me with the sun behind her. Only you, she whispers. Her auburn hair glows. A feathery touch of her fingers on my lips, then a kiss that promises a life time. She is only now mine, but I no longer remember when I did not belong to her.
An early return home after a long fishing trip. We had fought before I left. The scent of roses fills my car. Waiting in my driveway for the garage door to open. A smile as I imagine all the ways she will try not to let me off so easily. Feeling the smile spread into a grin as I imagine slinging her half-heartedly protesting body over my shoulders and carrying her into our bedroom. The curse as I realize that the garage door is stuck. My impatience at the delay.

I open my eyes, but the horror floods my vision anyway. My heart monitor is beeping quicker. The man behind the curtain strides efficiently over to the table. Finding the slumped figure over the steering wheel in her car. The immediate realization of who, the instinctive recognition of the truth from deep within that I refuse to accept as I nearly unhinge the driver side door to her car. The tumble of her body into my arms. Brushing away her hair. Confronted by her dead, unstaring eyes. The thin, fishing wire-like abrasions on her neck that I fail to notice as I cradle her in my arms and stroke her cold, gray face. Leaving fingerprints that even a river of tears do not wash away.

11:59. I am ready. If there is a God, I will see her. She will know that I loved her, that I have always loved her and still do. This thought sustains me, just as it sustained me through the past months of crushing despair. The click and clatter of preparation behind the curtain. I take a deep breath and close my eyes for the last time. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Ring. Startle. Ring. Tock. Ri- Silence. The monitor beeps wildly as my heart beats like a fist inside my chest. Only one reason for that phone to ring. The officer hangs up the receiver and whispers to the curtain. Clang. Rustle.

IV number one is pulled out of my arm. IV number two goes next. My limbs are freed from the shackles, then cuffed again. The officer leads me away.

“You’ve gotten a stay of execution,” he says under his breath. He looks back to see that no one is behind him. “Someone in Tampa thinks he has the real guy.”