Type 2

Laura's hand rested lightly on the kitchen knife, she seemed to stare through the wall as she listened intently. The half cut up tomato oozed it's contents in waiting as her grip on it tightened. She closed her eyes and tried to relax, going over the words again in her mind. They're fixing the sink. Just fixing the sink.

But the sounds being emitted from the bathroom were anything but the sounds of two men stopping a busted pipe. She cringed as the moans became louder. It was just her imagination. Only her imagination.

Her thumb began to tap lightly on the counter.

"I can't do this!" she screamed at the wall and the moans only became louder.

Laura turned away from the wall and walked across the kitchen, picking up the phone and dropping the crushed tomato in the trash can. She slowly pressed the numbers as her bottom lip quivered. They obviously didn't care if she heard now, the moans and grunts were so loud that it seemed like they were in the room with her.

6
Hesitate
5
Hesitate

There was a loud thud, making her jump. She glanced over her shoulder as she dialed the rest of the numbers. Pressing the phone against her ear, she listened to the rings. After the second ring, the other person picked up. There was a shuffling sound from the other end, followed by a disheveled person's voice.

"H-hello..?" more shuffling.

"They're fucking again. In my Goddamn bathroom!" Laura began her pacing, up and down the kitchen.

"Laura? What time is it?" a quick cough.

"It's three in the afternoon. Did you hear me? They're in my bathroom! What do I do?!" she began chewing on her nails, her eyes scanning the room.

"Uhh...Laura, I'm not even fully awake yet..." there was the sound of someone talking in the background, "What? Oh...yeah...coffee sounds great....hey, Laura, you still there?"

"Who are you talk-- you know what, nevermind. Just tell me what to do."

"Fuck. Confront them?"

"They have to know I hear them, right?" Laura paused. "I mean, they're being really loud. I can clearly hear them, Cless."

"Right..." a yawn. "Look, I worked last night. I'm really tired. If they're being loud, it's because they don't care if you hear them. I say confront them."

"Yeah...yeah...thanks," and before Cless could respond, Laura hung up.

Taking a deep breath, she walked out of the kitchen and around the corner. She stared at the door, shaking, nervous, unsure of this decision. You either do this now or you accept what's going on.

She placed her hand on the door knob, took one deep breath, twisted, and shoved the door open. The knob smacked against the wall with a bam. There they were, entangled in some sort of passionate dance she didn't want to understand.

The words seemed to fall from her lips before she could stop it, "What the fuck is this shit?"

"Laura?" Michael shoved Greg off of him as he reached for his pants.

"You're disgusting..." she said shaking her head. "Oh my God, I hate you."

"Laura, wait," he said, fastening his belt. "You don't understand."

"Understand what?!" she shoved her palm into his chest as he came closer. "That you're having sex with my brother, you sick fuck?!"

"I love him," Greg said as he wrapped a towel around his waist.

"What the fuck...?" Laura backed away from them and back towards the kitchen.

"No, Laura," Michael said. "I love you. I want to be with you!"

Laura shoved him, making him stagger, "You thought you could achieve that by fucking my family?!"

"No. No, I...I just lost myself. This isn't me," he pleaded.

"Then who is it, Michael? Because I'm looking right at you. I can't believe you would do this. To me. To us!"

"I..."

"You're what? Sorry?" she folded her arms as he nodded. "Get the fuck out of my house."

"Laura..." Michael extended his arms, trying to pull her into an embrace.

She shoved him again, "No! Fuck you, Michael! Fuck you! Both of you, get the fuck out."

Michael, defeated, turned and walked towards the door. "I wont stop loving you, I'm gonna fight for this relationship."

"Good fucking luck," she screamed out as the door closed behind him.

"Laura," Greg said, putting his pants back on. "What about the baby?"

"What baby?" Laura said quietly.

Greg moved closer to her, "Don't do that. It's a life, Laura."

She sighed, "He ruined that. And you did too. Get out."

"I'm sorry it happened this way," he said as he hugged her, grabbed his keys, and walked out.

Laura blinked and she was back in the kitchen, holding the knife and staring at the wall.

Next time, she thought. I'll confront them next time. She raised the knife slowly and cut into the tomato, the moans and grunts echoing through the house.

Disease and Fear

Disease

I have this thing that’s very contagious. It’s called stupidity.

As I speak, the words that flow between these subtle lips are caked in it. Nothing makes sense. Nothing fits together. Nothing works. Just words, bland and simple and dipped in monotone, that are pointless.

My arguments hold no weight because of this disease that plagues me. This thing that consumes my mouth.

I fight to keep my voice raised above everyone else’s, dare I lower it they might notice. I can’t let them notice. I can’t let them hear the truth. I can’t show them how stupid I really truly am.



Fear

I can feel the temperature rise as my face floods with the light red of anger. ‘Bite your tongue,’ sings my inner being. ‘Be calm. Join me in serenity.’

I take two deep breaths and look over as her phone vibrates with another text. Another little screen filled hatred and biting words. The screen aimed for the heart, and strike it it did. Every time there was a text like this that was received, it aimed for the heart and it struck.

My heart swelled in my chest and my hands shook with the urge to wrap around the phone, crushing it. Tonight was NOT the night. I took a deep breath as my inner being sang again, ‘Think of blue skies beyond this. This is one instance in your life, and in the blink of an eye this experience will be over.’

Another vibration. Another jabbing text. Every word dipped in the lovely concoction of jealousy, envy, and confusion. I bite my lip. I ball up my fist. I raise it quickly. And I bring it down with a sharp snap as it slams against my thigh.

I repeat this process several more times before I stop and breathe deeply.

‘Don’t harm yourself,’ the being chirps, ‘Certainly this other isn’t worth it.’

But the texts continue. My anger rises.

And in the blink of an eye, there he is. Standing still. Smiling at me.

“Welcome, friend,” he coos. “Welcome to fear.”