For Him
A drop of blood fell into the pot of mashed potatoes heating atop the stove. Breanne stared at the blot for a moment, before swirling the spoon around the white fluff a few more times, the red disappearing in a slow coil.
Why should she bother to cry, when tears of blood were already finding their way down the side of her face? The liquid snaked its way down her neck and soaked thickly into her blue cashmere sweater. Her left eye had gone completely black, and she had to keep blinking the crimson blood out of her right.
B is for bitch! How clever.
A loud buzzing alerted Breanne that the roast was nearly complete. One more basting and ten more minutes should do it. A couple minutes of extra care was all that was ever needed in most cases. Nothing so much more than that. Not so much to ask.
Ten minutes would be perfect. That was all she would need. A little soap, a clean hand towel or two. Should she bother with makeup? Probably no time. No matter.
The reflection in the bathroom mirror was intriguing. He had never quite been able to achieve such a high level of disfigurement before. Breanne marveled at the mountainous topography of her once smooth skin, red and dark where bruising had already started to form, small blood filled baubles riddled across the strike zone.
It really was incredible how small ones eye slit could go when inflamed. The lids of her one eye were clamped so tightly together that Breanne had mistaken the darkness for blindness. How silly. Maybe she was blind, and would have to wait for the swelling to go down a bit to find out.
Ice-cold water from the tap was enough to stem the flow of blood. The beautiful towels she had bought at Bloomingdale’s the month before were rough against the cuts, but they were smooth in her hand. Any abrasion to the area would undoubtedly burn, no matter the softness of the material. She hoped the blood would come out, though it did not really matter. Everything would be all right.
Breanne reached slowly into the medicine cabinet and grabbed a bottle of her husband’s oxycontin. It was hard for him to run his multi-million dollar construction company, especially after the fall he took last year. He was in a lot of pain these days. She was in a lot of pain these days.
The cap twisted off easily. Breanne shook a pill into her hand and swallowed it. No need for water, it was small enough to swallow in one go. Cap on once more, she stowed it back in her pocket.
It had taken nearly fifteen minutes. She was grateful that the stove buzzer only sounded once in her absence; he would not have been happy to be woken up early.
The blue cashmere sweater had been replaced by one almost exactly the same, only this one a pale pink. She had decided to don a little makeup in the end, nothing too heavy, but just enough so he would notice she had tried.
Breanne took the bottle of oxycontin from her pocket and overturned it into the food blender. Her finger stopped just above the puree button. He would hear, and that would not be good. She needed to make sure the door to his study was closed.