Five Minutes Ago (Short Story)
Five minutes ago
by Johanna Clarke
His head hit the floor and all she could do was lay there. Her body was frozen. Her arms, legs and toes. Let’s say her thoughts were fucked up as well. She began to evaluate the sound. Well it was louder than a thud but softer than a BANG. It wasn’t necessarily a CRACK though. Surely he had a headache and concussion. There may be a huge gash but there are stitches for that. Hospitals usually handle these kind of matters but they weren’t near one.
He lay there motionless. His head felt like it wasn’t connected to his neck anymore. But he was thinking about the pain, and feeling the pain and cursing the pain, so the head must still be on right? He heard her whimpers and didn’t care. Where was she?! Help me!!
She lay there motionless. She repeatedly told herself that she had to get up. Come ON! You’re so pathetic! Her toes crunched up and her legs began to straighten then bend. Then straighten then bend. So my legs work better than my mind. Fucking insane. She tried to be as quiet as possible but her shoulders and elbows resisted with their intense cracking. What the hell! Fucking ridiculous. He still lay there. He was definitely breathing.
Approximately 27 minutes and 12 seconds passed. His breathing was louder and more steady. She had managed to stand up and stare at him. He had managed to flutter his eyelids. Maybe a max of eight eyelid flutters. Haha. She walked over to him and stared. His eyelids fluttered a few more times. He smelled like shit.
Not like horse or cow in the zoo. It was more human-like. That putrid, I-may- be-allergic-to-dairy-but-I-love-me-some-cheese smell. She scanned the dimly-lit garage for anything that could be of use. An elderly flat tire lay pitifully beside the empty toolbox. In four steps and one quick grab, she had the tire under her arm. He moaned some more. The tire fell from her body, onto his head. Twice. The sound of immense blood splatter and a crushed skull made her heave. Bile rose up to her tongue then to her lips. She forced herself to swallow and then swallow again.
Five minutes ago: I heard her get up and her shoulders and elbows cracked like they always do. I heard her walk a few steps then pick something up. Something seemingly heavy. Then she walked over to me and I knew that my life would end soon. Just as a tire deflates, my lungs would soon do the same. I heard her take a deep breath and I knew. For about 3 seconds I prayed for my soul to reach Heaven then it was over. We used to be friends but when you constantly take advantage of someone you love, you soon learn that you have been blessed. God is watching you, looking out for you, loving you, and knows what is best. I knew that. I had witnessed her every action, word, whisper and touch. I’d heard words of love like, “Hey you, I’m at the store. You want anything?” and “Those Jordan’s you wanted are here. Last pair in your size. You want them?” Now I was hearing her moving around our garage. Slowly, then fast. Fast then slow. It was as if she was making better decisions as the seconds passed.
Why do some pray for love? Money? A big house? Falling in love with your best friend? A wife and two kids? A wife and a steady job? Do those things make life better, or any easier? I received love, money, the big house, my first child on the way, and I still reciprocated love and comfort with hate, abuse and neglect. I did not think I’d be here, five minutes ago.
Present: Now I see his brain contents everywhere. Some have splattered on my left foot. Some drip off of my hands. Some hang off of my lips. The smell is putrid but the satisfaction of his life ending has begun to make me smile. I did not put myself first. I did not love myself enough. He took all that I was and that I stood for. I allowed him to take it. I didn’t speak up when he cut me off in conversations with others. I didn’t speak up when he told me to ignore the calls from my family. I didn’t speak up when he simply told me to stop all communication with my best friends. His killing did not fill my soul’s emptiness but it temporarily offered my soul a newfound hope and beginning.
Did he deserve such a thing to happen to him? Did I deserve such a thing to happen to me? Five minutes ago we were both struggling. Physically, mentally and spiritually. One may think that I did not forgive and/or I don’t know how to forgive; but I forgave myself long ago. I forgave myself for becoming an empty being of a human. An empty being of a woman. I am no longer struggling and neither is he. It is strange, yet alarming and fascinating, how one can take so much from another, but also give so much. The good and the bad. Did you think you’d be here, five minutes ago?
