A violent end

Anyone who has experienced the collapse of fidelity from either side of the divide may contemplate revenge. Yet most reactions seem undignified when viewed from a distance. This time our hero is a man and he chose this interesting option.

He had decided on his course of action and this time there would be no going back. The man’s hand shook as he lifted the whiskey to his lips. He swallowed hard and set the glass down unsteadily while his stomach burned. The chair creaked as he leant forward and picked the small doll from the kitchen table. Sitting back he turned it in his hands feeling the smooth unresponsive skin. Realistic he thought, all pretense and no sensitivity. It was the sickly expressionless face that he hated most of all. A loud clicking started in his left temple and the doll swam out of focus.

Reaching forward again he gripped the hammer’s rubber handle and dragged it nearer. He fished in his pocket, pulled out a steel nail and held it between thumb and forefinger. The doll lay on her back before him, legs ever so slightly apart. Slowly and deliberately he overcame the tremors and held the nail to her forehead, his mature eye picking the central spot first time. He was breathing hard now and sweat beaded on his nose.

Suddenly he brought the hammer down hard driving the nail in to the hilt. The bitch couldn’t survive that surely. The tumbler had jumped on its side with the impact. Now a tiny scarlet line was running down the doll’s cheek and onto the blue and white checkered table. He stood the glass up and refilled it. Speaking aloud to the empty room he announced, “Now we wait and see what tomorrow brings.”