Birds chirping. A cardinal? Swoosh, swoosh, swoosh went the sound. Jimmy slowly, cautiously opened his eyes. Piercing light. Felt like an ice pick driven into his head. Damn.
His vision cleared a little, and he could just make out a blurry form. He squinted, straining to focus. It looked like Elena sitting on a chair. “Elena?” he tried to say, but no sound. Her name came out mouthed—no words, no breath. He tried to take a deep breath but could not. He felt strange. Choked.
Jimmy stared at his wife, trying hard to focus. The warm light filtered down on her beautifully, and he recognized the gray dress she had been wearing the night before. Her head was cocked sweetly to the side—admiring him? She was wearing a scarf. Was it red? Tough to tell. So blurry. She is sitting so still. Is she asleep?
“Elena?” he mouthed again. His mouth felt dry, parched. Water. He needed water badly. He reached for the end table, but his arm wouldn’t move. It was numb, tingly. Jimmy strained to look down at his arm, but his head wouldn’t move either. Paralyzed? Am I paralyzed? Panic overcame him.
A knocking at the door followed immediately by the doorbell. “Elena,” he mouthed again. His vision was beginning to clear. His wife looked strange.
Elena was not wearing a scarf. The scarf was her bloody throat, slit ear to ear. Dear God, no—his beautiful wife—gone. She sat facing him, her head cocked to one side and covered in blood, staring wide-eyed in his direction. Tears filled his eyes and escaped down his cheeks. My sweet beautiful Elena. Oh no—please God, no!
Someone called out to him from far away.
“Hello? Jimmy? Jimmy—are you home?” The voice was muted, distant and disconnected. As Jimmy lay staring in horror and grief at Elena, his sobs were silent, his overwhelming grief finding no outward expression. Who would do such a thing? And why? Why my Elena?
His mind jumped to their four-year-old daughter Chanel, and a bolt of fear shot through him. Chanel—our precious little Chanel. Is she alive—is she safe? The ensuing panic engulfed him.
Jimmy’s head lay on the pillow, turned sideways. He strained, but could barely make out the door. Jimmy knew the voice was that of his friend Jeff. He looked at the bottom of his visual plane toward the door frame, fearing what his friend Jeff was about to encounter as he walked into the room, but was incapable of warning him of the awaiting horror.
“Jimmy?” Jeff inquired tentatively as he stepped through the door.
Jimmy watched Jeff stop rigid in his tracks. Jeff looked over at Jimmy, then at Elena, then back to Jimmy. “Holy shit—fuck! Jimmy—Jimmy! Jesus Christ, Jimmy!”
Staring in horror at Jimmy, Jeff’s face grew even more ashen than it had reacting to Elena. Jimmy’s thoughts raced out of control. What does he see? What is it? Talk to me, Jeff—damn it—talk to me!
Jeff’s shocked expression fell quite suddenly to one of morbid grief, his hand flying to his hair and eyes flooding with tears. “Sweet Jesus,” he moaned, turning and tripping over a chair as he stumbled from the room. Jeff barely made it to the bathroom before dropping to his knees at the toilet and vomiting.
Minutes passed as Jimmy lay there, unable to move, uncertain of exactly what Jeff had seen when he looked Jimmy’s way—something that Jimmy couldn’t see—but whatever it was, it had affected him even more than the bloody sight of Jimmy’s wife Elena.
Jeff entered the room again with an air of trepidation that was palpable. “Um—Jimmy? Jimmy—can you hear me?” Jeff asked with the tender concern of a small child.
“Yes,” Jimmy mouthed.
Jeff could see Jimmy mouth “yes.”
“Holy shit, Jimmy…fuck.” Jeff’s chest was heaving up and down as he strove hard for self-control. “Stay calm, man—stay calm, Jimmy. I—I’ll call 9-1-1, Jimmy.”
Tears rolled down Jimmy’s face as he was forced to look at the horror of his mutilated dead wife locked in the blurred frame of his paralyzed view. He closed his eyes hard. Try to concentrate on the night before. Remember your beautiful Elena on your final night together.
Swoosh, swoosh, swoosh went the sound.
Minutes passed. From what seemed like far away, Jimmy heard Jeff say “…just please, you have to get someone here…please hurry…there’s not much time…”
Jimmy heard a door close. Jeff leaving? Darkness overcame him, and he passed out.
The Shattered Lens Page 4
