by Matt Shaw
“Can’t be any worse than this shit,” she said as she scraped the last of the plates clean.
“Look, just go through to the lounge... play with the kids... I’ll get this ready.”
“No, I don’t think so - you go through to the lounge and I’ll get this ready. You’ve already ruined one meal - don’t need you ruining another...”
She started opening various cupboards up - obviously looking for something.
“Where the hell have you moved everything to?” she barked.
I couldn’t help but laugh. One of the first things I did, when she moved out, was to change the kitchen around. I always disagreed with the way she had it laid out. Food in the cupboards near the oven and stove and the pots and pans on the other side of the kitchen. Always told her it made more sense to have the pots and pans near to the oven but.... you think she’d listen?
“I’ve moved things....”
“No shit!”
“Look, I’ve got this. It’s less complicated than the other meal...”
I’d like to see her cook a human being perfectly the first time around.
“Go in the other room,” I continued, “and I’ll sort it. Spend some time with the kids!”
You decide what happens next!
His wife cooks the meal
He cooks the meal
“Fine but try not to fuck it up! I’m sure the kids would like to eat something other than chocolate for their Christmas Dinner!” she hissed. She pushed past me and stormed off into the lounge.
Not matter what I do - I can’t win with her. One minute she seems to be happy with me. The next - I’m back to being public enemy number one. If I go through with what I’ve planned; decide to stick her annoying head on the Christmas Tree...
I’ll be doing the world a favour.
I’d certainly be doing the kids a favour.
Growing up with her as a mother won’t be easy for them!
I turned my attention back to the task at hand. Turkey Drumsticks and chips. There’s no way I can mess this up. If I do, she deserves to be mad! I reached into the cupboard and pulled down a fresh oven tray. Will probably only need the one tray.... Eight drumsticks on the tray and a pile of chips around them. Simple.
I started counting out the drumsticks when suddenly I heard the kids scream from the other room.
He dropped everything and ran into the room only to find his wife sitting next to the tree with a parcel in her hands. The kids, next to her, with a look of sheer terror on their faces.
Curious as to what he’d got her for Christmas - she had opened what appeared to be a human foot. Grey skin, long nails and a stump coated in dried blood....
The police arrived on the scene within fifteen minutes to make the arrest. The children never got over what they saw, growing up in the Foster home after their mother had a complete breakdown. Their innocence lost forever.
~ FIN
“Just get out,” she said. She pushed me from the room and closed the door.
A moment of panic, for a split second, as I frantically tried to remember whether I had removed all traces of human flesh from the kitchen. Pretty sure I had. If not, I guess I’ll hear a scream. I can’t exactly go racing in there and start looking - she’ll only get suspicious as to what I’m doing.
“What you up to, kids?” I walked over to the kids. No sense worrying about how she’s doing in the kitchen. Worry about that as and when I need to.
“Nothing,” said Ryan.
Ryan and Sarah were playing quietly in the corner of the room with their new toys.
They seem subdued.
Both of them have been quiet from the moment they walked through the front door. Not like either of them. I’m not good at this. The ‘father’ thing. Yet another reason I didn’t measure up in the eyes of my wife. My own dad wasn’t very good with me. He was always too busy to spend time with me. Always going away on important business trips.
“You having a good Christmas?” I asked. I didn’t aim it at either of them in particular, just hoped that one of them would answer. Sarah nodded enthusiastically, as she combed the hair of her doll, whereas Ryan simply shrugged.
“It’s okay,” he said quietly.
I frowned. I wanted this to be the best Christmas. If not the best Christmas - at least one that measured up to previous years.
“What’s up?” I asked - almost afraid of the answer. “You don’t like your toys?”
“They’re good...”
“So what is it?” I knew what it was. Didn’t need the question answering. Whenever his mother and I were in the same room he’d go quiet. The way we were behaving clearly upsetting him. Sarah didn’t seem to take it to heart quite as badly as him although I’m sure she felt it too.
“When are we moving home?” he asked.
The kitchen door opened and my wife walked into the lounge, “There - it’ll be about twenty minutes,” she said. She noticed the quiet atmosphere in the room. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Ryan wants to know when he’s coming home,” I told her.
Her face dropped. Obviously a question she didn’t want to have to answer either. If only they could have gone a few more days without needing to know the answer - could have avoided the question altogether. Could have made them think their mum had left them, during the night. Or could have told them the truth.... Daddy killed her so she wouldn’t upset them anymore.
“Mummy and Daddy just need a little space at the moment,” she said - handling the situation better than I. At least she didn’t freeze. “We just need you two to be big and strong whilst we work it out... you think you can do that for us?”
Ryan nodded.
“And you can look out for your sister?” she continued.
Again, Ryan nodded.
I have to admit it - she handled it better. She managed to avoid having to tell the children they’re never coming back to their home.
Ryan went back to playing with his toy, as did Sarah. My wife turned to me and raised her eyebrows as if to say, ‘well, that’s that’.
That is that.
You decide what happens next!
He tries to talk to his wife about giving their relationship another go
He realises the relationship is definitely over
He thinks about what he is doing and what he has done
“Can I have a word with you in the other room?” I asked my wife.
She nodded and followed me through to the kitchen, “What is it?”
“What do you think?”
She looked lost.
“About what?” she asked.
“You know - us.”
“Us?”
“Yeah... it would make the kids....”
She interrupted me, “There is no us...”
“But there could be,” I continued. “You know, for the sake of the kids.”
“No.”
“No? You don’t even want to think about it?”
She shook her head, “I need to do what’s right for me. Occasionally I still see the man I loved but... loved. I don’t feel the same anymore. You know I’ve met someone...”
“But it would make the kids happy...”
“I need to live my life, they’ll understand as they get older. In the meantime, we just need to keep the arguments, in front of them, to a minimum.”
“But -”
“It’s over. I’m sorry... and I’m sorry if I’ve been giving you mixed signals...”
“I just thought...”
“Maybe this wasn’t the best of idea...”
“What wasn’t?” I asked.
“I shouldn’t have come... should have just dropped the kids off with you...”
She walked through to the lounge and I followed her, “Wait a minute...”
“Kids, mummy has to go....”
She kissed the children goodbye and left, despite her husband’s pleas for her to stay. He even promised not to discuss the possibility of them getting back toge
ther again but it was too late. He had scared her off.
Every cloud has a silver-lining though. He got to see the kids every weekend and even, on some occasions, during the week when his wife needed an evening out for one of her many dates - having joined an online dating website after Leon stopped returning her calls and texts.
~ FIN
“That’s that,” I said.
It was over.
No point having mixed feelings now.
She had made her choice.
The rest of the afternoon went by in a blurry haze. Part of me was disappointed there was no chance of my wife and I getting back together, like some kind of demented Christmas Miracle.... the other part of me.... the other part of me excited about what I had in store for her.
No need to feel guilty anymore. She brought this upon herself.
She brought, what was coming, onto herself and there was no way back. Certainly no choice. Her actions, leaving me, would cause the kids to continue being hurt and confused as to what was happening. If they woke up tomorrow and mummy had simply vanished with her new man - they’d be upset for a bit but... ultimately, they’d get over it. They’d be happy they still had me too.
And if I do put her head on top of the Christmas Tree, like I originally planned... well, they might see the funny side of it. They might even like the fact I’ve kept mummy around - kept her part of our family Christmas.
Maybe.
Who knows what the minds of kids would think.
* * * * *
The meal she cooked wasn’t perfect but, at least, it was edible.
The kids didn’t complain about it either, which is always a plus. Truth be told, it was the most I’d seen Sarah eat for a while now. Although, having said that, it was the first time I’d been around to watch her eat. Still, that will change tonight. Tonight it’s me and the kids from here on in.
Exciting!
* * * * *
The rest of the afternoon was spent trying to be civil with my wife. Wasting our breath on pointless conversations, keeping clear of anything which may have been perceived as nasty or provocative. Trying, desperately, not to start an argument in front of each other - for the sake of the kids. The kids who were happily playing with their toys whilst half watching James Bond on the television.
My television. My house. My rules.
The wife didn’t get a say in it.
Had things been less awkward between the two of us, I might have suggested we all sat around a board game but, as it was, I couldn’t be bothered.
Soon enough, the time came to put the kids to bed and the rest of my plan to come to fruition.
“Come on, kids, time for bed!” I said. I walked over to the bottom of the stairs - ready to chase the pair of them up to the top.
I had put some inflatable mattresses in their old rooms for them. No choice, really, as she took the beds when she moved out and I hadn’t had the money to go out and buy proper beds yet.
“Can I put them down for the night?” asked my wife.
You decide what happens next!
He puts the kids down for the night
She puts the kids down for the night
“Please,” she begged, “let me say good-night to them. I won’t be seeing them again until tomorrow evening.”
‘Not quite correct,’ I thought. ‘You won’t be seeing them again, period!’
“Okay,” I said. “In their old room - I’ve set up some air beds...”
“Air beds?”
“Don’t start....”
She didn’t push it. Probably feared I’d suddenly turn around and stop her from putting the kids to bed and saying a proper goodnight and, tonight, I think I am cruel enough to stop her from putting them to bed if she annoys me enough!
The kids raced up the stairs after giving me a quick kiss goodnight.
“Thank you,” said my wife as she rushed up after them.
‘Not a problem,’ I thought.
Besides, gives me time to get her presents ready!
I walked over to the Christmas Tree and reached under, before pulling the presents out from underneath it. Several nicely wrapped - for me - parcels. If memory serves correctly there’s a couple of feet, one of his thighs, couple of arm stumps, couple of hands and a head. I’m desperate to leave the head until last but... you know... make her wait for her main present. I’m worried, though, that she won’t get to see it if the first few parcels freak her out. Can’t have her screaming the house down - not with the kids, upstairs, trying to sleep. Don’t want them disturbed and coming down to see what the fuss is. Especially don’t want them seeing me hacking their mother’s head off!
Not entirely sure they’d get over something like that?
At least, not without thousands of pounds worth of therapy and... I can’t afford to pay the bills for them, as much as I’d want to. Shame, murdering their mum like this, I won’t be able to claim on any life insurance she may have.
Actually - what am I going to tell people when she does just suddenly disappear? People might start getting suspicious. Might ask questions. Could catch me out and then what?!
Jail I guess.
Need to get a cover story.
Think of something believable to tell people. Throw them off the scent that foul play may have occurred. Have to get my thinking cap on. I finished setting my wife’s presents on the sofa, next to where she could sit. Wait a minute, that’s it... it’s staring me right in the face.
I could tell people she ran off with her lover - Leon. Left me with the kids.
“No, I don’t know where she’s gone,” I’d tell people - a look of sorrow in my eyes. Hurt at being abandoned by the woman I loved. Sorrow for my kids. “Well, I had to tell them their mother ran off.... they took it quite badly.” I’d tell anyone who’d listen. That would work.
I’d look like the victim.
I can live with that.
Better than being in prison.
It’ll do as a cover story unless I think of anything else, at least. No rush. Haven’t even offed her yet. Need to make sure that goes to plan first. Still not entirely sure the best way of handling it. Perhaps let her unwrap the head.... wait for the look of terror in her eyes and then lean forward, with a kitchen knife, and slit her throat wide open.
Hard to scream with a hole across the throat, I’d imagine. Best she could probably manage is a little gargling noise.
Yeah. That’s probably the best course of action. Can’t afford to have her scream. Okay. Decision made. Start with the head. Let her see. Let her register. Slit her throat before she has a chance to properly react. I’ll have to be quick. The whole thing will probably be over in seconds.
I listened to her moving around upstairs. Sounds like she’ll be down soon. Best get the knife from the kitchen and stash it close to where I’ll sit.
This is it.
Have to say - I’m pretty excited.
Less than five minutes later, my wife came back down the stairs.
“Okay?” I asked. I knew everything was ‘okay’. Guess I only asked out of politeness.
She nodded, “They went to sleep pretty fast! Exhausted!”
“That’s good, wasn’t sure about the inflatable beds....”
“If you want to see them more often, and have them stay over, you really need to get some proper beds. The inflatable ones will do for tonight but... moving forward - we need something with proper back supports. Those flimsy things, upstairs, aren’t acceptable...”
All the money I give her, each month, to help support the kids - you’d think she would cut me some slack.
“Did you want a drink before you open your presents?” I said desperately trying to keep all of the menace from my tone.
