Four Days

Reads: 162  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 0

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
A relationship is a very difficult thing to maintain- people lose interest and feelings fade; people grow, change. This realization hurts. It's hard to accept that its over, truly over. Sometimes you choose not to accept. Sometime you resist.

Submitted: October 27, 2010

A A A | A A A

Submitted: October 27, 2010

A A A

A A A


It is unusually dark this October night. The suburban neighborhood is calm, still; only the sound of ruffled leaves can be heard as they whip about and crawl across the pavement. Clouds mask the moon and only its faint glow peers through; under this light, the trees that line the lawns seem almost luminescent. Fog, a few inches above the ground, creeps down the sidewalks and hovers above the grass. The fog is quite thick and makes the surroundings blurry. The streetlights flicker and add little relief to the obscurity. Toward the cul-de-sac at the end of the street, a parked car can be made out faintly.
This car, a ’87 Cadillac, is parked just along the curb. The porch light from a nearby house gives form to the two figures inside; their silhouettes are visible through the car’s windows.
A man is in the driver’s seat. His window is rolled down and he is resting his forearm against the glass. His other arm is outstretched, his hand grasped around the dashboard. A woman is the passenger’s side. She is slouched and her hands lay in her lap. The man stares out the opened window and begins talking to the woman.
“I don’t understand where we went wrong. I really don’t. I feel as if I’m the only one who cares about us anymore. I find myself constantly questioning where that line is: that line that separates my compromising for the sake of this relationship and your general lack of respect. I’m a good man-a damn good man. I don’t deserve such treatment. You just don’t care.”
No response.
“Remember, back in March, when you came to me, crying? You were so upset that you didn’t get that job in Dale. I sat with you for hours. I comforted you. I told you how amazing you are and that you will find your way- and you did! You did! You got the job with working in town working with, with, with Peter. Peter. Fucking Peter. Now all you do is go to these meetings, work, and come home late. I rarely see you! You don’t make time for me anymore.”
No response.
“I’m beginning to think there’s actually something going on between you and Peter, as a matter of fact. I mean, why shouldn’t I? He’s obviously more interesting than me; he has more going on for him, with his fucking nice car and clothes. I could have all that stuff too! But, I choose to spend all my money on you! All my attention, all my love, everything I have is yours! You don’t see that! You take me for granted. I fucking hate it. You have no right. You have no idea how much I love you- no idea how much you hurt me!”
No response.
“Are you even listening to me? Talk to me. I want to work this out. I want us to work. We can make it through this. We’re stronger than this.”
No response.
“Are you purposely trying to make me angry? You’re just sitting there. You’re not even looking at me. This is so fucking disrespectful. Fucking look at me!”
She doesn’t move. She does not speak.
“I remember when we used to talk- it was so lovely. You loved me. I loved you. I still love you. It was so perfect. We were perfect. You’re just throwing it away. It’s terrible. You are uprooting everything we’ve done. You’re just giving up! You don’t even care about how much this is tearing me up. I cry. I cry for hours on end. I cry for you! All I want is for us to be happy. You don’t even try anymore. I just don’t understand. You’re not the girl I fell in love with. Hell, you’re not even the same girl I married!”
Still, there is no response.
“Oh. Oh, I see. You’re ignoring me. You’re fucking ignoring me. Why?”
The man reaches across her lap and places his hand in hers. Her fingers are cold, stiff. The man tries to interlace his fingers with hers. She doesn’t acknowledge his effort.
The man snaps his hand backwards.
“What the hell is your problem? Is this really how we are going to end this? I refuse! This isn’t who we are. You’re not thinking straight. You’re not right in the head. You’re confused. You’re just confused! That’s it! You just need some help. You need somebody to show you what you’re doing wrong! I am going take us to a place I think you may enjoy as much as I do. It will definitely give you a new perspective! Ha-ha, yes! New perspective! ”
The man places one hand on the steering wheel and turns the ignition. The Cadillac starts and he puts it in drive. He circles around the cal-de-sac and begins down the street; the car moves through the fog and in seconds, only the dim glow from the car’s taillights can be seen.
The following day a car accident is reported. Two individuals are found dead. The victims are identified as the man and the woman, now given the names of Robert and Patricia Robinson. They were a couple that just moved into the area earlier this year. Doctors determined that Robert was killed immediately when his body was forced through the windshield of his Cadillac, and slung against the concrete underside of a Williamson bridge; forensics estimate Robert was going over 100 MPH when he lost control and drove headfirst into the bridge, roughly 45 miles south of where they lived. Patricia on the other hand was not killed in this accident. When her body was examined, several gross cuts and gashes were found around her neck and arms, along with several stab wounds on her abdomen; Patricia was violently murdered. Doctors say, based on the decomposition of her body, she has been dead for over four days.


© Copyright 2018 Joshua Martin. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments:

More Horror Short Stories