Its madness in my veins

Beatrice Costello

And now every piece of me took a toll on maintaining itself, I breathed as deeply as I could, leaning against the wall, took the cell phone off the shelf, turned off the sound, and opened the door. The darkness embraced me like an old friend, climbing each step I expected to feel any remorse and all I felt was a huge nothing.

Walking through the dark house, groping along the walls for some support for my tired legs, I managed to reach the bedroom, and as in silent prayer, I connected the cell phone to the sound system, threw the device on the bed without caring about the number of missed calls or messages.

I sighed, losing myself from reality feeling the taste of blood filling my mouth after cutting my lips biting.

I could have lost my sanity and still, it didn't matter.

His blood was spilled and ran down the corners, the fire in his blue eyes being consumed, and the ashes rose in the sweltering place.

It's that whisper in my mind that brings the first smile to my lips after the chaos, and that little feeling I'll never let go of. Even at the cost of innocent blood. Facing the mirror inside the bathroom, I realized that the sound had already been turned off because maybe the cell phone had finally discharged, in the reflection someone different from what I was used to seeing, with a livid head, I entered the box leaving the water running down the body cleaning the dirt clinging to my skin, because what clings to my soul cannot be cleaned.

I felt it was enough and left the box wrapping my body in a towel, I walked out of the bathroom holding the bag in which I put all the evidence that could indicate my crime and staining the whole house with blood, I left the bag next to the door entry so you don't forget to take out the trash even without knowing if it's collection day or what day it is.

I walked to the kitchen counter where I used to leave the charger and plugged it in feeling a small shock in my hand and a small red ball instantly appear on the tip of my finger.

The pain didn't bother her anymore, maybe she was the only true companion in all these years. I moved a little to the left opening the fridge door and getting out the orange juice, milk, and two eggs. I prepared the frying pan and cracked the eggs, taking a kettle to pass a strained coffee and putting it on the fire, I took a glass and filled it with juice, watching the eggs crack inside the frying pan as the crack of bones breaking filled my mind and ears.

The kettle whistled and the smell of the eggs began to burn, I turned off the heat and placed the eggs on a flat plate, brewed the coffee as calmly and precisely as the art that is. Grabbing my biggest cup I filled it with coffee and covered it with milk until it splattered out as I lifted it off the counter, I took a sip feeling my stomach grateful for the food that had been stolen from it. I looked down at the glass still full of juice, spilling its contents across the kitchen mixing with the drippings of blood from every open wound.

The sound of a car outside didn't surprise me, and when one of the few people with a key to my house entered, the silence fell and the air that came through the door cooled the house.

His eyes searched the house looking for something that would never be there again, understanding seemed to hit his thoughts, watching my small breakfast. His proximity in slow steps was not surprising, but his silence for the first time in his life bothered him.

Eyes as dark as mine, straight hair, and a neatly trimmed beard set against pale skin, for the first time in my life I understood the darkness in my brother's eyes.

Maybe the worst monsters aren't the ones we create, maybe the worst monsters are just ourselves.

Pulling the drumstick sitting in front of me in deafening silence, I took a deep breath and returned the cup of coffee, I didn't bother with the open entrance door the footsteps of those entering were filling the small room between a sofa and the kitchen.

Stefano made a point of saying that she didn't deserve a big house, that her body would be deformed if she got pregnant, the small house that I learned to hate because it was a prison, the walls a ridiculous color of green, without having the slightest option of redecorating or any shit.

I lifted my head and watched quietly, feeling an incredible calm inside me.

Each look was loaded with a question that I couldn't answer until the hunger was over, and the worst of all, is that this hunger didn't stop the desire to rewind each moment like a movie feeling each sensation. dark eyes, I gave a small smile sensing the monster's desire to boast.

Face to face with my brother without any disappointment about the fate of the man who was my husband, he understood all the lines in the look, words were unnecessary and the sigh when he held my hand was his way of asking 'are you okay?' the rise of my smile joining his equal mine, couldn't give another answer.