It was a dark night. She had had a long day at work and was ready to be home. She walked up the walkway leading to her house which was surrounded by red rose bushes. She finally made it to her door, pulled out her keys, but noticed that the door had already been unlocked.
It was her daughter’s night out with friends and her husband was still at work. She was confused, but thought nothing of it. She stepped through her doorway and noticed a narrow trail of crimson substance leading to her room. She was appalled; more by the fact of her clean white carpet being stained, then the fact that there was blood leading to her resting place.
She immediately dropped her bag and followed the trail. On the way, there were many paintings on the wall, mostly of landscapes, nature, but there was also a family portrait on the floor. She picked up the portrait and stared at it, as if time had just slipped away. She was terribly frightened at the fact that where her face was in the portrait was where the glass was broken, as if someone punched it.
She continued, more quickly to follow the trail, which lead her to the stairs to her bedroom. She quietly climbed each stair, as if her life had become slow motion. Then she stopped and listened. She heard a quiet bang on the floor, that progressively became louder and louder. She noticed that there were only a few steps left. She swallowed her fear and ran up the last few, and in a hurry, turned on all of the lights. The noise stopped. She knew something wasn’t right.
She saw that the narrow trail of blood lead to her bed, into her bed. She walked over to the bed in her designer heels that clacked all the way. She finally reached the end of the trail and noticed that in the middle of her bed, her lavender comforter was turning a very dark red. She could taste the fear of the situation, but she knew what she had to do. She slowly moved her hands to the comforter, grabbed it in her hands then thought, One… Two… Three!! She pulled off the comforter and threw it across her large bedroom. The fowl aroma of copper filled her lungs, taking her breathe away only for a moment as she gasped to retrieve it.
She stumbled backwards and tripped over one of her high heels. She caught her head on the corner of her desk, knocking her out. Unknowingly, when she fell, she knocked over the lit vanilla scented candle on her desk and it dripped burning wax on her unconscious head. She could feel the burning sensation, and although she was unconscious, she screamed as though the world had to know of her distress.
Over her screams, as loud as they were, you could hear this obnoxious laughing. The misshapen, dismembered head of her best guy friend lie in her bed, bleeding almost as badly as her. Finally, after a moment or two, the head’s eyes bulge, as if some sort of strain was taking place, and the neck of the blood and wax covered figure was broken. Then there was silence, eerie silence.
***
The next morning the cops were called as soon as the husband returned home. What he and the cops had found was that there was no sign of a struggle, no narrow blood trail on the carpet, no broken family photo and no bloody comforter nor bed. All that was found was the body of a distraught wife who missed her best friend. Attached to her head, which stuck because of the now dried wax, was a note which read, Now we can truly be together again <3. The death was claimed by the police as a suicide and the husband felt as though she was having an affair.
