Albatross Part 2

Trigger Warning. This short story contains information about violence, sexual assault that may be triggering to survivors.
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I prefer taking the train home rather than driving. Living downtown has its merits. I can walk and observe people, aware that sometimes, someone is also watching and observing me. It helps me to think long and hard about my next move.

It was late. The train was empty. I noticed that they had upgraded their seats. They were now a cerulean colour with specks of white and turquoise. I recalled the time I was in a hurry and entered the train. A majority of the people were standing up and there were two empty seats that no one would take. Thinking myself lucky, I sat in one and felt my skirt immediately dampen. Someone had peed on the seat. I spent the majority of the day with the stench of urine clinging to me. I was livid. I could’ve killed every passenger on the train, I was irate.

The memory made me jump out of my seat and stand. Casually, I looked up and in bold block letters was an ad that said: An Eye For An Eye Makes The Whole World Blind. The statement inspired nothing out of me. I looked at it, wondering if it was a call to come to church, but there wasn’t a logo affiliated with it.

I got off at my stop and walked a few blocks—about 10 minutes---before coming face to face with my destination. I stood outside too long, longer than I needed, just staring at that twelfth floor balcony.  Two of my charms clinked together, and I remembered to walk.

When I knocked on the door he was surprised to see me. He let me in. I followed him into the living room. I’d been charmed by the décor, the beautiful lamps the black and white art once upon a time.

“I brought wine,” I offered, handing it over to him.

He seemed taken aback but I could see the relief and joy on his face.

“Red wine…my favourite,” he exclaimed, walking into the kitchen and returning with two glasses. Pouring the wine, he set the bottle on top of the glossy white table that sat on a plush, off-white carpet. It was a beautiful scene—there was ambiance. We had a beautiful view of the city skyscrapers; there was soft jazz in the background, and the right amount of dim light provided by the lamps. He sat across from me.

“I feel like we are celebrating,” he remarked looking me in the eye shyly.

I made a great show of thinking about it, a kind smile on my face. My eye noticed the gold trumpet sitting on the dark brown shelf behind him. My next charm. I walked over to where he was and sat close to him, one hand holding the wine glass, the other in my bag. He seemed discomforted. My throat was dry, my heart was beating fast. I felt as though all the blood was rushing to my ears. I wanted to throw up. I’d done this too many times to count, and yet this felt different.

 “We are celebrating friendship…forgiveness. The past is the past, no hard feelings.” I smiled at him and raised my glass. “To new beginnings.”

The elation on his face was blinding. “To new beginnings.”

 He brought the glass to his lips. The ad from the bus flashed before my eyes, but before I could think, I saw him tilt his head, part his lips to take the wine, and my knife-wielding hand slashed with surgical precision at his neck. The glass in his hand landed on the white carpet almost soundlessly, and his body followed noisily, hitting the table. This wasn’t the first time I’d done this yet I froze. The blood on my face and clothes felt like it was seeping into my pores. I wanted to jump out of my skin. But I had to remain calm. I walked to the bathroom. Cleaned myself up carefully, tossed the bloodstained tissues and towel in my bag. I had to be extra meticulous as I cleaned any trace of my presence. The more I cleaned up the more paranoid I became. I couldn’t breathe.

Once outside, I was calm again.  The fresh air re-oriented me once more. My neck felt tense, my shoulders extremely heavy. My charmbracelet felt weightier even. But I took a deep breath, forced myself to stand up straight and rounded the corner toward home.