Till Death Do Us Part

Every second, minute, hour, and day, I am watching. I watch you shower late at night after work, standing in the kitchen in your underwear, looking deeply into the fridge’s light, or standing at pump three at the local shell station. No moment you have is secret or sacred from my prying eyes. I see you walking down Walmart’s soap aisle, and I’m studying every move you make. Yet you don’t know I’m there at all. Flicking between the shelves, your eyes move as fast as hummingbird wings. You’re trying to decide which one you want. You reach out to grab your favorite soap, vanilla cookie crumble. This doesn’t surprise me; you play this game every month when you pretend to want a new scent of soap, yet you never change. That’s why it was so easy for me to find you. Every fucking day is the same for you, which means every fucking day is the same for me. We’ve had this routine for almost five years now. February 15th is the day of our anniversary, which happens to be the day after Valentine’s Day. This also happens to be the day of your mother’s funeral. Our first meeting was in the showing room of the Roman family’s funeral home.

You looked so beautiful in your all-black attire. That pencil skirt wrapped around your waist like a snake constricting its prey. Your blouse is cut down just enough to see the peaks of your breasts. Black eyeliner and tears ran down your face and onto your neck like raindrops racing down a glass pane. You dropped to your knees and screamed as you approached your mother’s casket. For everyone else, it was a heart-wrenching moment. For me, it brought on feelings that stirred deep in the pit of my stomach and made its way down. Scenes of you in front of me flashed into my mind. You’re just like you are now, on your knees and with tear-stained cheeks. Your eyes flick up to mine as fast as they do in that soap aisle. My boss, Jacob Roman, drew me out of my thoughts as he said, “Let’s give the family some privacy.” I knew then that you were mine.

You were young, and it wasn’t fair. You broke your routine on Saturday, May 1st. Your best friend, Leah, convinced you to go with her to Barrell and Bog bar for trivia night. This wasn’t your scene. You didn’t go to bars. That bitch chipped away at your morals until you gave in. I watched as that sleazy man put his hands all over you. He had you pinned to one of the walls, your faces clashing together, one of your legs wrapped around his waist to pull him closer, his hands at the top of your thighs. It was disgusting. You brought him back to our bed, OUR bed. I watched him bend you over the end of the mattress. I watched him fuck into you as his life depended on it. I watched your face as you searched for the pleasure that would never come. It was over as quickly as it started, like lightning striking. You lay there with evidence of your affair running down your thighs. You didn’t get up to use the bathroom, you didn’t put on clothes, you lay there in your sin as you fell asleep with him. I turned around and lay down on the cold fire escape. I fell asleep for a fucking moment. The sunlight pulled my eyes open. The sun’s reflection blocks my visibility through the window, so I poked my head through. Before I could fully process the scene in front of me, the vomit had already hit the floor. Dried brown blood covered your figure. It was sickening. That bastard drained the life from you. Your abdomen was opened up like a dissection of the high school pig in science class.

Now you’re here with me! As I write this, your head is lying on my lap. You are so still and so beautiful. You look just like your mother. A pristine white sheet covers your figure. I’m used to the cold of this room; you, on the other hand, are not. Your hands are cold as ice but don’t worry, my love, I’m here. I will care for you just as I did your mother. It was only five short years ago that I held her like this. Tomorrow is your big day, and nothing can go wrong. To ensure no hitches, I pulled out all the stops. I used titanium eye caps that I special ordered, the finest silk sutures to weave into your lips and jaw, I added extra ponceau red to your embalming fluid to mimic your natural flush, and I can’t forget that I used vanilla cookie crumble to wash your body! Although the cookie crumble scent mixed with formaldehyde doesn’t do you any favors.

As I leave, I can’t help but wish I were in that drawer with you. I will turn off the lights tonight and set the alarm for the morgue so nothing will disturb your sleep. Now, I must rest and prepare for tomorrow.