by Richa Resa
But if she had been telling the truth…
The thought popped up in my mind, making my heart heavy with guilt and shamefulness. What if she was right? What if she lost the child? What if she wasn’t the reason for Elle’s death? What if she really was the woman I had imagined her to be? What if she was right and I was wrong? What then? Where shall I be then? I asked myself. These thoughts made me fall somewhere deep in darkness. They were making me heavy with guilt. These thoughts tortured me and started eating me from inside.
“No…no. No. I am right. She did all that. She fucking did it, and I know that. I know it!” I shouted while banging my hand hard on the kitchen shelf.
I forced my hand in the water and washed away all the blood. With the water flowing through my wounds, I let all the memories of Eunice and me wash away. I let go of all the dreams I had with her, all my feelings I had for her. Her lies had shaken me up so badly that I didn’t want to see her anymore. I wanted her gone from my mind, heart, and soul. There was no use in yelling in front of a dog. Eunice would never confess, and would only find more lies that would anger me. I didn’t want any more lies to be fed to me. I didn’t want to humiliate her more, didn’t want to say anymore abusive words to her. I just wanted her to go, and I wanted to let go of all of her.
My wound was now all cleaned, but I needed to wrap it up with bandages and antiseptic creams. Taking out the first aid box from under the counter, I dressed my hand. I threw away the trash and went up to my room. I was glad she wasn’t in the living room. I didn’t want to think of her anymore; she was dead to me. Laying down on my bed. I waited for sleep to come, but it wasn’t easy.
An hour might have passed since dressing my hand, but it still hurt. Damn me, damn Eunice for making me so angry that I punched the wall. I needed painkillers to numb the pain, not only in my hand, but also in this cold heart of mine too. However, the main problem was that I had to go to my old room where Eunice might be. I wasn’t sure where she went to, but she might have been back in her room crying and not out of this house. I had to do something about the pain because I was unable to bear it any longer without the medicine. After debating with myself for a while, I decided to go there. I didn’t think that after the scene today she would have any more to say to me. Standing up, I quietly and very doubtfully took the steps towards her room. The feeling of dread from this morning was still present in me.
As I reached the door to her room, my heartbeat spiked—I didn’t know why. The uncomfortable feeling grew stronger and bigger. It might just be because I might come face to face with her. I opened the door carefully and peeked inside to find her sleeping comfortably on her bed. I breathed a sigh of relief and walked towards the bathroom to get the pain killers. I quickly took out the pills from the cabinet and walked out of the bathroom. My heart rate and that dreadful feeling were climbing higher. As I stood outside the bathroom I looked at Eunice there on the bed. She looked calm and peaceful, even after such a fight. It felt like she wasn’t even affected by it. I walked forward and had a closer look at her. She still looked like an angel with her beautiful skin, though her makeup was all gone wrong now. Her new shaded hair was fanned across the pillow, giving her a soft look.
“She is a demon in an angel’s skin,” I whispered to remind myself. I saw a bottle of pills that I recognized as her sleeping pills there. Maybe it was the reason she looked so calm. After destroying my life, she lay there peacefully, away from all the guilt and shame. I needed to get away from her because seeing her like this burned me with anger. Turning towards the door, I made my way outside quickly. I was just a few steps away from the door when I felt something round crunch under my feet. I looked towards the bed to see if the cracking sound had woken up the devil, but she was still sleeping like a horse. Very carefully I moved away from the object and bent down to observe it. It was a medicine container and I recognized it to be the same as Eunice’s sleeping pills. I read what was left of the bottle. It was her sleeping pills, but it was empty.
“How did it get here? It was just on her bedside table,” I muttered to myself. Looking towards her bed, I was unable to see it. Moving closer to the bed, I was able to see the similar bottle of pills there. It too looked empty. Empty…
I remember that she had bought them just a few days back. How come they were empty? Where did the damn pills go? A sudden thought of her consuming them hit me.
“No…no. she wouldn’t. She wouldn’t,” I said while looking at the bottles in my hand. She wouldn’t take her life. She was a cold-hearted, horrible bitch. She was too selfish to take her own life. I took a close look at her, only to find a white sleeping pill right there on the bed.
It felt like a train had hit me. I stumbled back as I looked at her. The harsh reality that she had done something like this made me felt sick—sick at myself.
You forced her. You wanted this. You made her do this. Your sharp words brought her to the edge. She killed herself because of you. You wanted her gone and now she will be. You wanted her away from you, and now she is. You wished to get rid of her, and now she will be gone. She is now gone and you killed her. She did this because of you…you are a killer. She did this because you wanted her to. She did this because she was tired. She did this to get rid of your worthless accusations. Maybe she was right and you were wrong. She did this because of you. You killed an innocent…she was innocent.
These thoughts consumed me and were burning me from the inside like acid. I dropped to my knees within a moment. My breathing was shallow, heart racing. My throat became dry. I looked at her and tears welled up in my eyes. Of its own accord, a lone tear escaped my eye, and one by one more came.
I did this…I forced her…She might be innocent…What had I done?
My hands shook as I looked at her. The calmness, the peace were not what they seemed. Her chest was not rising. I couldn’t see her breathing. Her skin was losing its color; she looked so pale, ashen like death. With shaky hands, I reached for the phone on the bedside table. My eyes never left her face. She was on the verge of death because of me…
With my shaking hands I dialed 911. I felt like something was weighing me down, pushing me down in the ground. I held the phone to my ear by my trembling hands as I looked at her. I wanted to scream, shout, and cry my heart out but I couldn’t. There were only my silent tears and nothing else. I couldn’t do anything else.
You did this…something taunted me from the inside. The ring was going and someone answered.
“Hello 911, please state your emergency,” some man said from the other side. I wanted to yell, shout, and tell what was happening, but I felt something choking my throat. I looked at her face and gulped, trying to get rid of what it was.
“Hello, is anyone there? Please state your emergency. Sir? Madam?” Once again that guy spoke.
Her death will be on your hands. You have killed her. You…can save her. Answer and save her. If you don’t, you will burn down with the guilt of killing her. Do it.
Building up the courage to speak, I whispered in the phone.
“She took…too many…of the s-sleeping…pills.” My voice came out hoarse and short of breath.
“Okay, sir, who took the pills? When did this happen? I’m getting your address and sending an ambulance right away,” the guy from the other side said.
“My…wife. She took…too many…of them. She…is dy…ing. I left…her on…her…own…an hour…ago. She…took them all…I need…an ambulance…to save…her. She…needs…help…” I kept saying it absentmindedly.
“Sir, I have your address and the ambulance is on its way now. Do you hear me, sir? Sir, please respond. Hello? Hello, sir?” that guy said, but I had nothing to say anymore. I let the phone drop from my trembling hands.
She was dying and I did this. I was a killer, a monster. It was all on me.
I looked at her face that now had started looking more and more lifeless. Her cheeks were tear-stained. Why didn’t I notice it? Why? She wasn’t looking like an angel
, but a corpse. I made her do this. Her sweet lips, which were earlier coated with red lipstick, were now lifeless and turning a light shade of blue. She was going away, away from me forever.
Like you wanted her to. My thoughts were taunting me. I sat there and looked at her. My hand reached to touch her now ashen skin. She was being drained of her life and it was all on me!
“What…have I…done?” I whispered.
A paper made noise right there under my arm as I reached to touch her. I was numb now. There was nothing left for me. All my concentration was on her and only her. I carefully took the paper and read it.
I forgive you. I love you, Joshua and I am sorry .I am sorry.
—Your wife
Eunice.
Her name was smeared by some liquid—those tears she had shed. One of my own tears dropped, where her tear must have, mixing and smearing her name more. She said sorry, but for what? What was she sorry about? She wrote she forgave me, but for what? She was forgiving me and being sorry. Why? What did her words mean? They were a riddle, confusing me, torturing me. Why was she forgiving me and being sorry, what in the hell for? I wanted to shake her up and ask what she meant. I wanted answers. I wished to know what was the meaning behind this sorry and forgiveness.
She forgave you for your sins. She forgave you for your sharp words, your accusations, and your infidelity. She forgave you for your behavior and for all the pain you gave her. Forgave you for everything you did to her. She forgave you for using your power against her, forgave you for hurting her both physically and mentally. An innocent, she was sorry for leaving you. Sorry she was going away from you. Sorry for not being with you to show you the light. Sorry for breaking the holy vow of your marriage to be beside you forever. She was sorry for leaving someone she loved the most, who didn’t care for her at all. Sorry for loving you so much when you didn’t love her at all. An innocent who forgave you for your sins and was sorry for breaking her holy vows to you which you didn’t care for, the vows of that marriage that you had already broken. She wrote these words for you and only you. Even in the end when you had given her so much pain, she loved you, a monster like you. A beauty has loved a beast like you who forced her to welcome death.
These thoughts taunted me, tortured me, and made my heart burn with pain. I felt like dying a thousand times seeing her body going paler. I burned with guilt. It was my entire fault. My fault!
As the clock ticked, the weight of this guilt for making her do this brought me down. Silent tears streamed down my cheeks as I sat there on my knees in front of her as life drained out of her body. All I wanted was to turn back time and prevent myself from becoming the monster I am. I should have looked for the truth before accusing her. Should have searched her and then asked her. What if she was truthful? What if her innocence was pure and her heart was of gold, unlike me? Where would I be then? What a monster I would be called! Her blood would be on my hands, and the fact that she still loved me haunted me. I had broken her and wanted to torture her at every point, but still she loved me. Why, Eunice? Why? Why not hate me and let me get rid of this burning pain inside? What I have done? She wasn’t meant to die because of me. Now I was everything I accused her of. I was a killer and a monster. I was what I had thought her to be. I was a living monster!
I didn’t let the breaking of the door, the shouting voices, affect me. All my senses were taken by her. Innocent or not, she still had taken away all of me. All of me. The police came with medical officers behind them.
“Sir? Sir? Can you hear me? Sir, talk to me.” The officer shouted but my gaze was glued to her body, which was being examined by the medical team. How was she? What were they doing to her? Someone was shaking me badly, but I didn’t respond. They were calling me, but she was my everything. They lifted her up and put her on the stretcher. My eyes never left her.
“Help needed here!” someone shouted right beside my ear, but it didn’t affect me. “He’s not responding,” the person said. Who was not responding? I asked myself. Someone rushed beside me and flashed light in my eyes, making me unable to see her. I wanted to move that light away and look at her but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. I wanted to cry my heart out and scream at them to bring her back, to save her, but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. The light was gone now but Eunice was also. Where was she?
“He’s gone into shock. We need to sedate him ASAP,” another person said. What were they saying? Who was in shock? Where was Eunice? I wanted to shout out and call her. Ask where she was, but nothing came out. I felt a prick to my skin and my body was being lifted. I was being laid down. I didn’t need help, Eunice did.
Help her! I wanted to shout my lungs out. I started feeling dizzy, and before I could think about it more, I felt darkness sucking me in. Eunice…
She was the last thought in my mind before I was gone…
***
I could hear voices around me. Beeping machines. The smell of disinfectant hit my nostrils. My body felt too stiff. The voices grew clearer. There was a man and a woman. I wanted to open my eyes and look around, but they were glued shut. I tried to open them once again, and it took all my force to succeed. I was hit by the bright lights around me. I squinted my eyes to adjust myself to the brightness.
“Mr. Morris. Can you hear me? Mr. Morris?” I heard a man calling me. I turned my head and came face to face with a doctor. His face seemed blurred. I squinted my eyes in an attempt to look at him clearly. He was an old doctor but he seemed familiar. What was I doing here? In a hospital?
“Mr. Morris, I’m your doctor, Craig Ellsworth. Do you know why you are here?” he asked. I tried to remember but I couldn’t. I shook my head.
“Mr. Morris, you went into shock. We had to sedate you and inject you with a serum to bring you out of it. Does that ring any bells?” I was in shock. Why? The nurse handed me a glass of water. It was now that I realized I was thirsty. She walked out of the room, leaving me alone with the doctor.
“Why did it happen?” I asked the doctor. My voice was hoarse. The doctor looked a bit uncomfortable.
“You don’t remember anything?” he asked. I shook my head in response.
“Your wife, Mr. Morris. She tried to kill herself by overdosing with her sleeping pills. Does that bring any of the memories back?” As the words left his mouth, the memories of last night came rushing back to me. Our fight, the physical pain, hurting her, those pills, calling for the ambulance, the help coming and taking her away. Guilt washed over me. I had done this, hurt her. Her blood was on my hands.
“Is…she s-safe?” I asked with a trembling voice.
“We can’t say for now. She’s still in critical condition. She took a lot of them. Even if anything has happened, I wouldn’t have heard about it yet. It’s a shame that she has gone through so much. Just six months back she was here in a life-threatening situation, and once again, she’s back here. She has suffered a lot,” the doctor said and it was then when it hit me. He was her doctor back then, the one who had delivered me the news of Elle’s death and about Eunice’s health. He would know what happened. He was the person who knew the truth, who could help me. I needed to ask him about it. I wanted to. I was scared of the truth. Feared how much this guilt would eat me if all she said was truth. I feared the truth because it would make me a sick monster.
“You will be fine, Mr. Morris. There is nothing more to worry about for you. We’ll still keep you overnight for observation,” the doctor said while I sat there debating how to approach the subject. The doctor stood up and was walking out while my mind screamed at me to ask. It’s right now or never! My mind screamed.
“Doctor,” I called hesitantly.
“Yes, Mr. Morris?” he asked, looking at me with sympathy. Why was he being sympathetic to a monster like me? No, I need to stop thinking like that till I know what the reality is, I taunted myself.
“I wanted to ask you about something related to…my…wife’s accident…six months ago.” I didn’t know how to ask this. How to ask h
im about my dead unborn child if there was one? Just thinking that something like that must have happened, tears me apart with an unbearable pain.
“What about it?” he asked, his full concentration on me.
“What…was the…reason behind…her…accident?” I braced myself to hear what would come next. This truth would either mark me as a monster or not.
“She didn’t tell you?” he asked with sympathy and discomfort lurking in his eyes. I didn’t have the courage to speak, so I just shook my head in denial. Silence passed as the clock ticked its way for few minutes.
“Though it’s not my place to tell it—it is your wife’s—yet I will tell you. I wouldn’t like her or anyone to remember such a horrid memory,” he said and took in a deep breath.
“Your wife fainted due to fatigue while driving, Mr. Morris. She was two months pregnant. It was just that she didn’t know, and I don’t think that with the responsibilities of taking care of a toddler she would have noticed it. Her fainting forced her to lose control of the car. Growing tired easily is normal in those early days, but I guess with the additional stress and responsibilities of caring for the little girl, she grew so tired that she fell unconscious right then and there. I still remember the way she screamed and shouted when she saw the lifeless body of her baby girl. We had to sedate her many times to stop her. When we delivered the news of her losing her unborn child, Mr. Morris, she lost herself. Crying, screaming, shouting, cursing God and herself. I’ll never forget that day. It was bad luck that she lost so much in a single day. It was necessary to keep her unconscious for two days after she woke up after the accident. Even after that, she cried herself to sleep at times. It was a shame that we couldn’t save any of her children, but we are not gods. If I was, I wouldn’t have wanted your wife to suffer such horrible pain. I wouldn’t have wanted such a fate for anyone. Maybe that’s the reason she’s here again. It is never easy to let go of such a part of your life. Not at all. I knew she’d been blaming herself since that accident because she kept repeating it was her fault, Mr. Morris, but it wasn’t—it never was. It was all just being unlucky.”