Defining Paranoia

His Side of the Story

He loves her. He really loves her. And seeing her there on the floor on her knees, tears streaming down her face, broke his heart to pieces. Her body was shivering with every gasp of breath she took. Her lips were trembling trying to form words he couldn’t hear. Not now. Not like this. Not after what happened. She shook her head, slowly at first, and then faster and faster as he fell down to his knees next to her. She backed away and hugged the walls. His vision was blurry, but he could see her trembling. Slowly, she crept closer to him and with a trembling hand, reached out for his shoulder.

When did all this start? He loved her. With all his heart, he truly loved her. He still remembers the day they met. It was a rainy day, he had missed the bus and she stood there with her umbrella smiling at him. He was soaked from head to toe as he had forgotten his umbrella in the the rush of trying to catch the bus. She held up her umbrella, and smiling back, he stepped under and waited for the next bus to come.

They had exchanged numbers as she got out at her stop. He promised that he would call her, and he did just that the next day. They went out to lunch. The lunches became dinners. The dinners became spending the whole day together. Then one beautiful morning, he got down on one knee at her side of the bed and she said yes.

So what happened? What changed? They had never lived together, but they both agreed that it would be for the best to wait until marriage. She was beautiful, took great care of her figure, it wasn’t that. It definitely wasn’t that. He loved everything about her, even her clumsiness, the way she burnt everything she cooked, and even how she kept pronouncing certain words wrong.

Her legs. He could see them clearly now. He was holding them now. He lifted his head and met her eyes. Those beautiful dark eyes were open wide, frozen in horror. He just wanted to tell her that he loved her. He just wanted to hold her. He just wanted to tell her that everything was going to be ok. But she kicked him in the face, leapt to her feet, and ran towards the door.

He shook his head and by the time his vision returned to normal, she was nowhere in sight. He got to his feet and turned to see that the door was open and the room was empty. He called out her name a little louder than he would have wanted. He called out other names, too. He could hear a whimper from behind the closet door. She was there, hugging her knees to her chest, her whole body shaking uncontrollably. Next to her was his favorite blue shirt. There was a white stain in the middle.

Now he remembered. He was getting dressed in the morning to go to work. He wanted to wear his favorite blue shirt that he had asked her to wash the day before. She was never really good at domestic work. It didn’t bother him at all, but when she handed him the shirt with a trembling hand, he forgot why he had married her in the first place. It was late in the afternoon now. He had called in sick from work. He just had to teach her how to wash clothes right.

She screamed words at him; pleas that he couldn’t hear anymore. He took hold of her arm and yanked her out of the closet. She hit the wall head first and fell unconscious on the floor. He could see clearly now. Her closed eyes were black, her lips were cut and bleeding, her legs and arms were red and purple, and there was blood coming out of her head. He fell to his knees as tears blurred his vision. Gently, he lifted her from the floor and ran towards the door grabbing his car keys. Just like the day they met, he forgot his umbrella and it was raining very hard.

“What happened?” Asked the doctor. He couldn’t answer. He kept looking past the doctor’s shoulder to see where they were taking her. Her hair lay around her, the blue of  the covers contrasted her red and purple skin perfectly. “What happened?” Repeated the doctor.
“She fell down the stairs.”

posted by 5ada @ 3:09 AM