We had been fighting a lot lately and I had never meant it to get violent, but one shove was all it took. It was usually stupid little things like him not writing things on the shopping list when he used them, him not putting the toilet seat down, or me not picking up after myself. These, though, were just symptoms of bigger monsters lurking below the surface, and when we started bickering about these things, the monsters would peek their heads above water and grin those horrific, toothy grins.
“We all know where this is headed, you just don’t want to admit it yet,” that grin seemed to say.
This time it was about the grocery list. He NEVER wrote anything on the list. I would discover that we had run out of essentials only when I went to use them. As always, I overreacted and it quickly escalated to yelling. Then, when I had finally gotten tired of being interrupted and belittled, I made the biggest mistake of my life. I shoved him. It all happened so quickly.
The wet crack of his skull on the corner of the table.
The blood so dark it looked almost black, spreading out from his head.
He was dead. He was dead and I had killed him. Was I going to jail? Was this murder? It wasn’t self defense, he never hit me.
“Fuck!” I cried out, looking down at his corpse.
“Get your shit together and clean this mess up,” I muttered to myself, wringing my hands.
Blood was oozing across the linoleum floor of the kitchen now. I reached for the paper towels, but of course, there were none left. SOMEONE hadn’t put it on the list.