Wednesday, March 09, 2005
ChapTer1
The shiny black telephone crashed onto the hardwood floor, her sobbing was seemingly uncontrollable. After a long minute of crying, Mary Jane slowly reached down and gently picked up the telephone with her left hand…the two carrot diamond sparkling wildly on her ringer finger.
She didn’t have to put the phone to her ear to hear the rapid dial tone indicating that the line had died…her father had hung up.
She slowly turned the phone off with her thumb before quickly turning it back on and instinctively dialing the seven digits she had memorized one day prior. She wiped the tears from her cheeks with the small dishtowel in her right hand as she raised her left arm, placing the phone gently to her ear. One ring.
“Hello?” a relaxed and heavily accented voice asked with urgency.
“It’s me.” Mary Jane said after gaining a little strength and confidence.
“How are you?”
“It has happened.” Hesitance touched her lips as the words stumbled through the receiver of the telephone…the realization of the unfolding events were lightly tapping their five skinny fingers on her grey gooey brain.
“I will be there in twenty minutes.” The man replied sharply.
Mary Jane listened with great intensity as his strong voice spoke shortly on the other end of the telephone, her nervous and vibrating body floated in the kitchen near an opening to the front living room, “I don’t know if twenty minutes will be fast enough…” she spat out as she looked to the clock that was mounted next to the rear sliding glass door, it was already six thirty-one in the evening.
“Twenty minutes is perfect.” He said before the phone line once again crawled into hear ear and fell dead.
She paced between the kitchen and the living room, still in shock from the devastating news her father had divulged. Another tear dropped from her left eye as she pondered the validity of her father’s words. She turned to walk into the spacious living room and let her beautiful green eyes settle upon a thick silver picture frame encasing the precious memories of her fractured past. Her soft hands stretched out to gently touched the metal frame as her eyes pierced through the crystal clear glass and into the haunting photograph.
The picture had been snapped and printed two winters before; Mary Jane was holding little Jeffrey, both of them carrying genuine and beautiful smile. Bryan was sitting to her left, kissing her on the cheek with a blissful and loveable presence about him. A tear dripped from her chin and splashed onto the glass, “How could you betray me?” She cried, her voice tense, yet barely audible through her sobs.
She stared into the eyes of her husband’s image and tried not to fear the worst as the tears burned her sensitive skin with the poisons of frustration and anger….
And then a synapse misfired, pushing a vile thought into to the forefront of Mary Jane’s mind; her right hand pulled back and she clinched her fist with a wince before letting the blow rip viciously through the glass that protected the endearing photo, hundreds of jagged shards scattered along the hardwood floor.
Mary Jane slowly lifted her flagrant fist to her eyes, inspecting the fresh wounds that had cracked open along the knuckles of her right hand, blood oozing. Her eyes fell to the floor, searching for the largest, sharpest piece of the broken glass…she didn’t have to look far.
Three feet in front of her, slightly to the right of center, was a large triangular shard with two dangerous looking, dagger-like edges. As she bent down to pick up the shard, her motherly instincts kicked in with an ear twisting squeal, subtly informing her that little Jeffrey’s soul did not approve. She looked back to the dagger, finding it had crawled into the dishtowel she clung to with her right hand, trying her hardest to ignore the cries pouring from the child’s room down the hall.
Mary Jane began to hyperventilate as she thought of her broken family…shattered like the picture frame on the floor. She held the large shard of broken glass with the dishtowel and slowly turned back to the clock in the kitchen, six thirty-six. Jeffrey continued to wail from down the hall.
Her attention fell back to the picture that now rested on the floor underneath the shattered glass and screamed, “You goddamned bastard!” She pushed the sharpest tip of the glass into the tip of her index finger of her left hand, her skin broke and the blood bubbled up, each cell pushing to be the first to jump from her finger. The tiny droplets of blood slowly formed a beautiful red puddle on the hardwood floor.
Her tears ran feverishly down her face as she stared at the shard of glass, the tip covered with a small smear of her own blood, “I gave you everything!” She cried as she pulled her left hand back towards her body, puncturing the tip of her middle finger with the dagger. Although this wound was slightly larger and spilling a little more blood, the pain was considerably less. Mary Jane’s hand had become numb, and a tingling sensation had overtaken her entire body. She held her arm out before her, once again to let the small drops of blood drip into the puddle below.
She took one last look to the clock in the kitchen, six thirty-eight…. Holding the shard of glass in her right hand, Mary Jane slowly and lightly dragged the sharpest edge from her middle finger down to her palm. As she reached the middle of her hand she thought of Jesus…the nails that held him to the cross as he gave his life for the sins of all mankind….
Her ring finger and middle finger began to shake wildly as she continued to drag the sharp glass closer to her wrist. Once she reached the bottom of her palm she began to apply more pressure, slowly slicing deeper into her skin.
More blood trickled to the back of her hand, soon to plunge into the pool that had collected on the hardwood floor. Jeffrey continued to cry from the back room, but Mary Jane drowned the cries out of her mind with the pounding of blood pushing through her veins. And as the sharp glass approached her wrist she closed her eyes… “Forgive me for what I am about to do…”
The shiny black telephone crashed onto the hardwood floor, her sobbing was seemingly uncontrollable. After a long minute of crying, Mary Jane slowly reached down and gently picked up the telephone with her left hand…the two carrot diamond sparkling wildly on her ringer finger.
She didn’t have to put the phone to her ear to hear the rapid dial tone indicating that the line had died…her father had hung up.
She slowly turned the phone off with her thumb before quickly turning it back on and instinctively dialing the seven digits she had memorized one day prior. She wiped the tears from her cheeks with the small dishtowel in her right hand as she raised her left arm, placing the phone gently to her ear. One ring.
“Hello?” a relaxed and heavily accented voice asked with urgency.
“It’s me.” Mary Jane said after gaining a little strength and confidence.
“How are you?”
“It has happened.” Hesitance touched her lips as the words stumbled through the receiver of the telephone…the realization of the unfolding events were lightly tapping their five skinny fingers on her grey gooey brain.
“I will be there in twenty minutes.” The man replied sharply.
Mary Jane listened with great intensity as his strong voice spoke shortly on the other end of the telephone, her nervous and vibrating body floated in the kitchen near an opening to the front living room, “I don’t know if twenty minutes will be fast enough…” she spat out as she looked to the clock that was mounted next to the rear sliding glass door, it was already six thirty-one in the evening.
“Twenty minutes is perfect.” He said before the phone line once again crawled into hear ear and fell dead.
She paced between the kitchen and the living room, still in shock from the devastating news her father had divulged. Another tear dropped from her left eye as she pondered the validity of her father’s words. She turned to walk into the spacious living room and let her beautiful green eyes settle upon a thick silver picture frame encasing the precious memories of her fractured past. Her soft hands stretched out to gently touched the metal frame as her eyes pierced through the crystal clear glass and into the haunting photograph.
The picture had been snapped and printed two winters before; Mary Jane was holding little Jeffrey, both of them carrying genuine and beautiful smile. Bryan was sitting to her left, kissing her on the cheek with a blissful and loveable presence about him. A tear dripped from her chin and splashed onto the glass, “How could you betray me?” She cried, her voice tense, yet barely audible through her sobs.
She stared into the eyes of her husband’s image and tried not to fear the worst as the tears burned her sensitive skin with the poisons of frustration and anger….
And then a synapse misfired, pushing a vile thought into to the forefront of Mary Jane’s mind; her right hand pulled back and she clinched her fist with a wince before letting the blow rip viciously through the glass that protected the endearing photo, hundreds of jagged shards scattered along the hardwood floor.
Mary Jane slowly lifted her flagrant fist to her eyes, inspecting the fresh wounds that had cracked open along the knuckles of her right hand, blood oozing. Her eyes fell to the floor, searching for the largest, sharpest piece of the broken glass…she didn’t have to look far.
Three feet in front of her, slightly to the right of center, was a large triangular shard with two dangerous looking, dagger-like edges. As she bent down to pick up the shard, her motherly instincts kicked in with an ear twisting squeal, subtly informing her that little Jeffrey’s soul did not approve. She looked back to the dagger, finding it had crawled into the dishtowel she clung to with her right hand, trying her hardest to ignore the cries pouring from the child’s room down the hall.
Mary Jane began to hyperventilate as she thought of her broken family…shattered like the picture frame on the floor. She held the large shard of broken glass with the dishtowel and slowly turned back to the clock in the kitchen, six thirty-six. Jeffrey continued to wail from down the hall.
Her attention fell back to the picture that now rested on the floor underneath the shattered glass and screamed, “You goddamned bastard!” She pushed the sharpest tip of the glass into the tip of her index finger of her left hand, her skin broke and the blood bubbled up, each cell pushing to be the first to jump from her finger. The tiny droplets of blood slowly formed a beautiful red puddle on the hardwood floor.
Her tears ran feverishly down her face as she stared at the shard of glass, the tip covered with a small smear of her own blood, “I gave you everything!” She cried as she pulled her left hand back towards her body, puncturing the tip of her middle finger with the dagger. Although this wound was slightly larger and spilling a little more blood, the pain was considerably less. Mary Jane’s hand had become numb, and a tingling sensation had overtaken her entire body. She held her arm out before her, once again to let the small drops of blood drip into the puddle below.
She took one last look to the clock in the kitchen, six thirty-eight…. Holding the shard of glass in her right hand, Mary Jane slowly and lightly dragged the sharpest edge from her middle finger down to her palm. As she reached the middle of her hand she thought of Jesus…the nails that held him to the cross as he gave his life for the sins of all mankind….
Her ring finger and middle finger began to shake wildly as she continued to drag the sharp glass closer to her wrist. Once she reached the bottom of her palm she began to apply more pressure, slowly slicing deeper into her skin.
More blood trickled to the back of her hand, soon to plunge into the pool that had collected on the hardwood floor. Jeffrey continued to cry from the back room, but Mary Jane drowned the cries out of her mind with the pounding of blood pushing through her veins. And as the sharp glass approached her wrist she closed her eyes… “Forgive me for what I am about to do…”
