A Mother Scorned by Michele Bardsley

Author:Michele Bardsley
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Broken Heart Publications
Published: 2017-06-27T05:00:00+00:00

That night, I dreamed about Ted.

He was in the backyard, talking on his cell phone. He stumbled around the yard, crying and sloshing his gin and tonic. I opened the sliding glass door and rushed out. Anger ballooned through me, filling my head, my heart with hate. When he saw my face, he knew that I’d discovered his terrible secret.

“Josie, wait. I can explain—” He backed away, tripping over the shovel. The stupid rusting shovel he’d taken out to dig a spot for a garden. He was always talking about gardens, about how they represented the renewal of life. He had such fond childhood memories of his mother’s garden. She used to take pictures of him among the plants. Used to take pictures…

He lay in the grass, staring at me. The cell phone had clicked shut when it hit the dirt and the gin and tonic seeped into the earth around the shattered pieces of glass.

“I’m sick,” he said. “I can get help. Honey, we can work through this. Therapy. I’ll go to—”

I picked up the shovel and slammed it onto his head. My rage made me blind to the horror, deaf to his screams. I hit him with shovel again and again and again until the strength in my arms gave out. His blood and brains mixed with dry dirt, brown grass, and glass shards. His skill was crushed, battered. It wasn’t enough. I pierced his neck with the shovel and pushed until his head separated. His sightless, bloody eyes gazed up at me.

“I guess our therapy session is over. I feel better. How about you?” I started shoveling dirt, digging a hole. “Oh that’s right. You feel dead.”

I woke up and scrambled from the bed. Moonlight filtered through the sheer curtains. My whole body shook and I wrapped my arms around myself to stop the shudders. I glanced around the semi-dark bedroom, trying to catch my breath. My heart thudded violently in my chest and I felt like a lead weight had lodged in my stomach. I wanted to go to the bathroom, to vomit, to rid myself of the obscenities in my head, but found myself looking at the closet. The door was cracked, just a little, and I swear I saw Ted’s eyes glaring at me from the sliver of darkness.

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