Lovers quarrel - By Mizeta Moon

The night I killed her we were parked by a rippling pond, drinking wine from paper cups and celebrating our one year anniversary. When we first got together everyone thought we were too different to be a good couple but we’d proved them wrong until then. She was the favorite child in her family and I was the black sheep of mine but there’s an old saying about opposites attracting. I suppose that’s true with magnets, so it must apply to human relations. Anyway, I’d bought her a Chia Pet bust of that famous painter guy and a box of assorted chocolates, and she gave me a gift pack of shower gels and a bottle of cheap perfume. We both pretended to be excited while secretly wishing for something romantic like tickets to an Engelbert Humperdink concert.

I remember the radio being on and crickets chirping. I remember counting stars through the windshield while the moon slid below the horizon. I remember how warm the blood felt on my hands, but I don’t remember what we argued about. From what they tell me, I had a psychotic episode, blacked out, and stabbed her repeatedly with the corkscrew. They say I’ll never get out of here but they don’t realize how devious I am and that I have a plan. When I escape, I’ll go back to that pond and try to remember exactly what we argued about. It must have been something big to cause me to go ballistic. Sure, I’d tortured the neighbor’s cat when I was young and burned ants with a magnifying glass but I was sure I’d grown out of that type of behavior. Well, except for throwing a perfectly good dog onto a freight train headed to who knows where. I always hoped it would get adopted by whoever found it, so that surely counted as good karma.

Other than wanting to wander down memory lane there’s no real reason to escape. I don’t have to work. I get fed anyway and the doctors give me drugs to keep me happy. The grounds are nice when they let me go outside and I’ve made friends. I just wish they weren’t so catatonic and prone to drool. Game night is fun. We get to play bean bag toss as long as no one lobs them at the staff. We used to play checkers until Mattie swallowed six of the red ones and choked to death. Watching her flop around on the floor like a fish was fun but now everything has to be bigger than your mouth.

I told my therapist that I might remember what set me off if he bought me a bottle of wine and played some Engelbert, but he said that alcohol wouldn’t go well with my pills. I think he said that cause he’s secretly in love with me and wants to keep me around. I told him that girls my age should be able to drink if they want to but evidently there’s rules. My parents are coming for their annual visit tomorrow so the nurse curled my hair for me and laid out my green dress and sandals for the occasion. It’ll be a nice change from slippers and inmate sweats. One of the coolest thing about them coming is the goodie bag they bring. I used to share the chocolate and the chips but now I eat them all myself because a year is a long time between treats. The only regret I have about that night is not buying a bottle with a screw cap. If I had, my girlfriend and I might be married by now. They say hindsight is twenty, twenty, but you can’t change the past no matter how hard you try. 

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