I really wonder how you feel on these nights so alone

“if only you could see”

I do what I must, because I can.

Oct 21, 2007 || 2:14 AM || comment?

"Such a nice package..." A voice sang softly, trailing through the rooms of a spacious house. In the living room, on the ground, was a neatly wrapped present, slightly hidden by the limbs of a fir. The wrapping was white, with thin silver etches of poinsettia. A black ribbon was tied around the box. Not even a foot away, a pair of knees were knelt on the ground. Black slacks covered them, and a white dress shirt covered the torso. A red tie completed the outfit. The face structure of the young man was clean, and neatly shaven. The eyes were amber, the forehead slightly covered by black bangs. The hair was somewhat lengthy, but was also kept neatly. He was mature; it could be seen in the posture he kept. And yet there was a childlike nature hidden, visible in the song he sang, which would become the turn he would whistle. If anyone heard him, they would know a pleasant sound, clear and ringing true. Two hands reached around the box, and then lifted it to ear level. He shook the box gingerly; a slight thud was heard as the contents shifted from one side to the other.

"It's not time yet..." he said to himself. He rose in a fluid motion, then headed towards the kitchen. A day calendar on the counter read: December 24th. Christmas eve, and the final preparations were being made for the next day. It was nighttime; the grandfather clock read 11:30. The day somehow managed to slip by without notice. Also on the counter, more towards the center was a small cake. It too was white, with red icing around the edge, simple decoration. He glanced at it with longing eyes. The cake smiled back. And he gave in, taking a shiny fork from the drying rack, and took a healthy piece from the otherwise flawless cake. After savoring the piece, he set the fork down. Pieces of cake were left between the prongs. Licking the icing from his lips, he walked back towards the living room. His feet were kept warm by black socks, which greatly contrasted the pearls strewn about the floor.

"Looks like someone forgot to clean up..." he said to no one in particular. He hummed another tune as he knelt down again, this time to pick up the precious pieces. They were minute compared to his cupped hand, but soon enough he couldn't see the bottom of his palm. He emptied his hand into his pocket then continued to pick up the remaining pieces.

Twenty more minutes, the clock would strike twelve, and it would technically be Christmas day. He could no longer find any pearls, so he went to the bathroom, and poured the contents of his pocket into a small bowl. He ran warm water over them and put a few drops of soap into the bowl. He then took a cloth, and wiped the pearls clean one by one, and set them in another bowl that had a cloth in it as well. With the bowl of cleaned pearls, and new string, he sat down on the couch, and began restringing them.

He carefully chose which pearl would come next, based on its size. He would stare at each one or a minute or so, and would either add it to the length of them, or drop in back in the bowl. As he was doing this, the clock struck midnight. A smile slowly found its way onto his face, and he set the necklace down, waiting for the twelve chimes to sound.

"Merry Christmas..." he said cheerfully. Then he hunched over, and worked faster to finish. He lifted the necklace into the light, admiring his work. A red, velvet was on the coffee table, and he set the necklace in it, then snapped it shut. He walked over to the tree, and picked up the white package. There was a spring in his step as he headed towards the bedroom at the end of the hallway. He grabbed the slightly stained doorknob with his free hand, managing to turn it with minimal difficulty. He gave the door a slight push, then let it swing open the rest of the way. Of all the rooms in the house, it was the most spacious. Two dressers and a vanity, a king sized bed, and a bathroom with two wall-length mirrors. A walk-in closet with plenty of room to spare. There was carpet in this room, and it was spotless. His smile grew. He walked up to the side of the bed, and the covers were slightly pulled back where she was. She was lying down, with the covers pulled up to her shoulders. He set the larger present down, and held out the velvet one.

“I have a surprise for you,” he said softly, as if not to disturb her in her sleep. He opened the box for her, not bothering to wait for a response. He pulled the covers slowly off her shoulders. She was beautiful, like a china doll. Her dress was black, and hung loosely off her frame, but holding on enough to compliment her best. He set the necklace around her neck, and the pearls seemed to disappear against her fair skin.

“I hope you like them…” he said, somewhat sadly, and not daring to look at her. After a moment, however, his expression cheered up.

“Is this for me?” he asked brightly, picking up the white package. He shook the box again, as if to make sure his gift hadn’t somehow disappeared. He seemed childlike in this moment, sitting on his knees, yet he opened the box slowly, anticipating the moment. Taking the lid off the box, his eyes lit with joy.

With a smile he said, “You’ve finally given me your heart.”

~~~~~

He sighed after opening his eyes slowly in the dark room. For some reason he was having a hard time sleeping. “Hey…” he said softly. No response. He reached out to his left side. Nothing but sheets. He rolled over, the digital clock lit his face, and he repeated what it said in his mind. 2:05 AM. Where was she? But, it wasn’t the first time he woke up during the night and found her gone. With another sigh, he turned over and fell back asleep.

It was day now. He was sitting in the living room anxiously. From outside, he heard a door shut. He sat up, and watched the door as she walked in. “Oh, hey,” she said when she noticed him watching her. “Hey,” he said back with a smile. “How was your day?” he asked, as he stood up. “Oh it was okay…” she set her keys down, and walked into the kitchen. As she was washing her hands, he walked into the kitchen, a red velvet box held behind his back.

“Well…I have something for you. An early Christmas present.” She dried her hands, then turned around.

“Really? Well show me!” She said excitedly.

Her smile made him smile, so he held out the box. “Open it.”

As she realized what was in the box, her face lit with excitement. “It’s so beautiful! This is really for me?” A beautiful pearl necklace. She jumped on him, and kissed his cheek. He laughed at her excitement, simply glad to see her so happy. “I’ll have to wear it sometime this week,” she said with a smile as she tried it on.

Two days had passed, and everything was back to normal. He woke up at night to find her gone, and her attitude towards him was once again so apathetic. It was Christmas eve. Wasn’t today supposed to be a day filled with excitement? While he was cooking, he noticed her passing by, wearing a nice black dress, the hem playing at her knees. He was planning a dinner for them, but she was dressed up. Why? He put down a carving knife, and walked into the living room.

“Are you going somewhere?” He asked her. She seemed to be looking for her keys. She was wearing black high heels, her hair was fixed nicely, and she was wearing the pearls. “I’m going out…to eat with my sister,” The pause was more than noticeable. “With your sister?” he thought. He knew they were close, but why did she hesitate? Why was she dressed so nicely? And why was she always so late? He was tired of being naïve. He knew what was going on; he simply did not want to believe it would be true.

He walked towards her with no visible signs of anger. He stood behind her, and she turned to glance at him.

“What?” she asked sharply.

He took a hold of the pearl necklace, and pulled. She screamed, trying to grab the pearl necklace in the front to stop herself from choking, but the string snapped, and pearls flew everywhere. They bounced around, and she fell forward on her knees coughing.

“Are you crazy?” she sputtered. He grabbed a hold of her hair, and yanked, causing her to fall backwards, and he continued to drag her.
“Let me go!” She screamed, tears running down her face. She scratched at his hands, but it was as if he could feel nothing. He looked around the counter, and saw the knife he’d set down earlier. With his free hand he grabbed the knife, then began to make his way out of the kitchen and to the bedroom down the hall. She was jerking around and screaming, so to gain better grip, he twisted his hand around to hold on more tightly her hair.

“Why are you doing this?” She managed to say, the tears impairing her speech. He made it to the room, but not without a struggle. The sheets were untucked; the covers were on the floor in a pile. The door to their room was wide open, at this point he didn‘t care whether anyone saw him, but it wasn’t likely, he always kept the front door locked. He sat over her; the carving knife was in his back pocket.

“I wake up at night only to find that you’re gone. Where do you go? Why can’t you tell me? And you have the audacity to question MY actions? Did you ever love me? You’ve never given me your heart. And now I will make sure that it’s mine forever.” At his last statement she winced, and started the struggle once more. He forced his weight down on her, and she whined pathetically.

“Don’t worry. You won’t feel a thing. Like always.”

He moved so he could pull her dress over her body, but made sure she'd still be able to see him. Taking the knife from his back pocket, he gripped the handle with both hands, one over the other. She screamed, and shut her eyes tightly, as if closing them meant everything before her would disappear. With all of his force, he thrust the knife into her chest. She screamed even louder, and her blood spilled everywhere.

The door of the washing machine echoed its sound as he let it drop shut. He glanced at his hands, and frowned. He went into the kitchen, and washed his hands with the lavender dish soap. He tossed the paper towel he used to dry hands in the trashcan where there were scraps of white wrapping paper, and uneven pieces of black ribbon at the top. He let out a sigh of relief even though he still had a few preparations. He opened the pantry door, and began searching. After moving several boxes around, he finally found the box of cake mix.

The clock struck eleven.

Labels: fiction junction