By mouth{JT}

The bloodstains on what were once crisp, white, linen bed sheets stood out with more vulgarity in the cold light of day. He sat on the edge of the bed, observing them for the longest time, reflecting in his mind what had happened the night before. Why couldn’t she leave him alone? he had thought – not for the first time – as his eyes drifted to first one stain, then another and another. Already they had turned a rusty brown, never to be completely removed from the expensive bed linen.

His thoughts turned to his wife, Cora, and how she was going to react when she saw them. Cora had always put up with his peculiarities, as she called them, with a pained, resigned sigh. They had married late in life, with each accepting the other’s past, and all the little things that went with forty plus years of life. They rubbed together quite well, in fact, and with no children around, had kept up a very nice lifestyle. Comfortable, middle class suburbia, no fuss and no drama, each taking the other as they were – and in Cora’s case, with a small sigh when she saw he had invaded her space yet again. Cora liked everything neat and tidy; clean, ordered, and, well – starchy white. The mere sight of what he had done would send those lips of hers into a tight line. She would sigh and remove the offending sheets before he could even offer an explanation, really.

How he had felt he was going mad, to the point he couldn’t think straight, and just lashed out. The dead body that he had let his eyes drift onto lay starkly amongst the bloodstains. He hadn’t realized just how many there were – not until now, in the hard reality of morning. Cora was due home soon from her stint on the nightshift, her feet aching and wanting nothing more than a cup of tea and sleep. Ugh. He pulled a face. There was no way she could sleep in this mess. She wouldn’t anyway, and she would know if he changed the sheets. She was so proud of them, being of the finest Egyptian cotton and coming home for all the world to see, in a bag proudly displaying the logo of one of the finest (not to mention, most expensive) stores in town. No, Sir-ee, Cora was not going to like this at all.

It was all her fault, he thought, as his eyes drifted back to the body on the bed. If only she had shut up, had stopped with the incessant whining, never giving him a moment of peace. All he wanted was for her to leave him alone and let him sleep, but oh, no. she couldn’t – wouldn’t – shut up. So he had lashed out – well, isn’t that what any sane man would be driven to? And, as he surveyed the marks on his own arms, she had given as good as she got. Well, almost. He grimaced in a small smile of triumph. At least he was still alive. And once he had started, he couldn’t stop; hearing in his mind, even long after she was dead, that noise. On and on and on. But she had fought bravely back, evading the first few grabs at her with a dexterity that he admired, even as it fuelled him on, taunting him as he redoubled his efforts to kill her. Eventually he had, but not before she had left him with a few souvenirs of her own – not to mention the possibility of a nasty disease as well. His well-ordered mind made a mental note to make an appointment with the doctor later. Right here, right now, though, he was the victor. Survival of the fittest, baby, he thought with another grimace.

The sound of a key in the lock and the screened back door opening with a squeak that he had never quite been able to get rid of told him Cora was home, and he took a deep breath as he followed her footsteps coming closer down the hall to the bedroom. As she stood in the doorway, he looked up sheepishly. He caught the disapproving glance as her eyes went to the messy, unmade bed, and he felt her inward shudder as she took in the scene.

Then came the sigh, followed by, “Really, Colin. You need to stop mucking about and get that hole in the screen door fixed. You know how bad the mosquitoes get at this time of year. Look at the mess its made of my nice, new sheets!”