Alex dropped me off at home after the doctors appointment, leaving me with an adoring, full of love kind of smooch before he headed off to work for the remainder of the day.

Me however, I'd decided to have the day off from work and get some things done around the house instead, mainly washing, as I'd let the clean washing pile get a bit bigger than I should've and I can't ignore the need to fold it any longer.

Before getting stuck into that task, I did a quick whip around the house with the vacuum and then I steam mopped the bathrooms, dining room and the kitchen, feeling much better after the floors had been cleaned.

Wandering into the kitchen again, I flick on the kettle, looking over and into the living space. It takes but a millisecond for me to notice a spot of something on the floor, I frown, what the actual fuck? I know that I went over that precise area with the steam mop, how had I missed that spot?

Turning on my heel, I wander over, half bending to inspect the spot, still not knowing what had caused it or how I'd missed it altogether. Spinning around to face the kitchen once more, I grab a nearby cloth, then swivel back and crouch down, smothering the mark with the moist material.

Swiping quickly across the spot, I begin to rise again when I notice the mark has now lengthened, the colour having turned from black to brown, what the fuck? I wrinkle my brow in confusion, dropping with a little bounce back onto my heel.

Reaching down to clean up the smear, I swipe a few times to be sure I'd definitely gotten the job done this time, though as I swipe, the smear grows, spreading cruelly across the clean floor, and as it grows, the colour changes again, from murky brown to blood red, the pool that I now find forming at my fingertips is beginning to bubble with life, as though I'd just drained it freely from a fresh victim.

I fall back onto my butt in horror.
Why is there blood here?
What did I do?
And most importantly, who's blood is it?

I don't want to look around me, but I know I have to to discover the source.
Turning my head, I look around.

Nothing in the kitchen, definitely not, since I've just been in there.

Nothing in the dining room that I'm currently occupying.

But there, as I turn my sight to the living room, I see a shoe and what looks like a socked ankle jutting out from behind the sofa.

The realisation hits me instantly.

That's Alex's shoe.

Tears form in my eyes as I stay rooted to the spot on the dining room floor, staring at the place the shoe and ankle are.

But I'm too scared to move.

Alex told me he was going to work.
So he must be there. He has to be.

The longer I stare, the more I realise I don't actually recall seeing him go, I only remember him kissing me lovingly in the bedroom after he had changed his clothes. But, I can't be certain that he actually left the house.

I refocus, staring horrified at the pool of blood that has spread evenly across the floor in front of me, I slowly reach a finger out to it to make sure it's real. My pointer barely grazes it, but the feel and the look tell me what I am dreading most. It's one hundred percent real.

Tears leak down my cheeks as I gain the courage to move, though my stomach is teetering dangerously close to emptying itself before me.

Using my hands, I reluctantly and very slowly scoot my butt along the ground, refusing to stand on my now weak and useless legs.

The closer I get, the more I feel the press of vomit beneath the surface, burning my throat, keeping me aware of what I am facing.

What have I done?

I'm closing the gap.

Six feet.

Going under.

Five feet.

Death moves closer.

Four feet.

Nearly breathless.

Three feet.

I see the pant leg.

Two feet.

I can't do this.
A thick and deep sob cuts through the damning silence as I press my face into the sofa, now allowing myself to sob fully, my chest heaves as I sit in my sorrow and utter depression at what lies before me.

I should've known I couldn't live a normal life.
What kind of fucking psycho am I to convince myself that I could live like a normal person after willingly and consciously killing so many people and enjoying every god damn second of it?

The moment drags on as I refuse to pull myself nearer to my ultimate ruining.

How can I live with myself knowing that I have destroyed the life of the one person who matters most to me? The one person who still had faith in me despite my complete and utter failure to them. The one person who wanted to help me rise up beyond that and believed that I could.

I simply can't look.

My brain jabs at me.

You've done this to yourself.
You must look.
If you don't, there's no believing.

And then, the future of your child relies on it.

It is the shove I need.
Though I don't want to see what lies beyond, I need to see it to know the damage I have done.
If I don't see, I could endanger our unborn daughters life by pretending it never happened and then I could allow myself to continue on despite the danger that I am to her.

I am stronger than my darkness.

I drag my ass the last two feet, eyes squeezed tightly shut, still deathly afraid to look.

When I know I'm where I need to be, I muster up the courage to open my eyes.

Alex's dead form lies openly before me.

I scream out once, in agony, then cover my eyes roughly with the balls of my hands, crying hard, my tears run down my wrists and into my misshapen lap as I pull myself into a ball on the floor beside his unmoving feet.

Ditz finds me, sniffing frantically at me, trying to figure out what's going on, but I don't move, don't offer her anything to ease her concerns.
After a while, she curls in beside me.

Time passes slowly, or quickly, I don't know.

But it goes, and I remain.

Drawn into myself as I suffer immeasurable pain and anger at myself for killing the person who means the most to me.

If morning comes and someone finds me, I'll surrender to them.

I don't want to fight anymore.

Someone like me should be locked away.
The key and lock melted down.
Hell, they should incinerate me for what I've done, but that punishment would be mercy for my wrongs.

I should be stuffed in a too small box and forced to starve to death alongside my suffering. That punishment would be kind even in the worst circumstances. My mind would turn to mush from my inner thoughts, my punishment to myself.

Even that would be too pleasant for me.

Torture, never ending torture, that's what I deserve.
I should go down the way I've torn down others before me, the monsters I have destroyed, monsters I have now joined by taking an innocent life and the worst of all is that it's the life that meant the most to me, my forever.

I have become them, inhuman.
A monster in every sense of the word.

I am nothing.

Knocks at the front door break me from my heartbreak and loss, I hear a voice, too muffled for me to recognise, then a couple of bangs on the front window.

Again, I find silence.
Though it doesn't last long as I find myself dragged to a sitting position by my armpits, then Justine's face is in front of me.

"Hey," she says, "What on earth are you doing? Are you okay?" Her words drift around me, floating around my head and into another place, swept cleanly from my body as I suffer through my heartache.

I'm baffled that she hasn't yet noticed Alex's corpse beside me. I give her the time to come to grips with it herself. But when, after some time has trickled by and she doesn't change at all, continuing to ask me if I'm okay, I look down at where Alex lies.

Only to find nothing.

Had I really imagined the whole thing?

:::::::::::::::::

I know it's been much too long again, I'm not proud of where I stand in terms of my writing, I wish I had more happening for me like I did before. Hopefully soon this writers slump leaves me be so I can work towards finishing this series for you all.

You all know that I won't leave this hanging mid air, I will lead you all through til the end. I promise.

Beside the chapter being shorter than usual, this was how it needed to be.
It's a harsh reality, one that needed to happen, thankfully it's not actually real.
It's merely a wake up call.
One that she definitely needed, since she so strongly believed she had killed Alex.

How did you feel about this chapter?
Do you feel she needed to have this happen?

Thanks for the continued support, hopefully more to come soon.

Now that Melbourne is finally out of our months long lockdown, perhaps it'll help inspire me more.

Speak soon!
Shantelle :)