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Karen is currently hard at work on the manuscript for Cellar, but -- in the meantime -- here's a small taste of things to come:
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"Rehab," she said aloud, wincing as the cat dug his claws into her shoulder before jumping down. "Beats jail, I guess, but not by much." She started running water into the tub, added bath oil, lit three votive candles, stripped off her clothes - the low heeled pumps, navy suit and white blouse worn to impress the judge with her professional status - and kicked them across the room. She turned out the light and tested the water. Satisfied with the temperature, she walked away and went to the medicine cabinet. She opened a bottle and swallowed two Valium, with no water. "A second chance, they called it," Laura said to herself in the mirror as she pinned up her long black hair. Her eyes looked better, less red although the dark circles underneath had not gone away. In the candlelight she looked younger, prettier. Laura smiled at her reflection then shrugged and lowered herself into the tub with a grateful sigh. "I guess we'll see about that." The hot water relaxed her thoroughly and she leaned back and closed her eyes. She shifted her position slightly so that the water covered her ears. The soft drumming in her head was rhythmic, soothing, hypnotic. Laura lazily soaped herself, observed by the watchful eye of the cat, sitting in the hallway, grooming himself after his meal. Suddenly he stiffened and arched his back. With a low throaty growl, he took off and ran to the bedroom at the end of the hallway. Laura sat up and smiled. "Dumb cat," she said affectionately then settled back into her previous position. He was so spooky, she thought, but not without cause. The last time she bathed, the phone rang and as she hurriedly tried to answer it, she'd lost her balance and fallen, accidently dousing him and the entire bathroom with half a tub of water. I guess that to cats, it's kinder to kill them than to get them wet, she mused, succumbing to a pervading drowsiness. The phrase filtered into her consciousness. Kinder to kill, kinder to kill, kinder to kill, blending into the pounding of her ears and the beating of her heart. Laura lay immersed in the water, her body inert and limp, her mind drifting slowly. She was aware of the feel of the water, the scent of the candles and bath oil, but made no connection between these senses and reality. She knew that the words spinning in her head were the only reality. Kinder to kill, kinder to kill, the words lost their meaning in the repetition, like a child's sing-song chant. Child, children...the words kicked off warning signals, but her mind, aided by valium and an unnatural languor, floated past them and replayed the events of the day, then the events of the past few years. Dismally she viewed her life, solitary now and doomed to be forever. She saw all her mistakes magnified; she saw all of the chances she'd lost, the opportunities she'd never pursued. Will it ever get better, she wondered, will it ever stop? Easy enough to stop, her mind advised. And the chant continued - kinder to kill, kinder to kill. The walls pulsed with the words in her head. Detached and disinterested, she watched her arm reach out of the water and find the razor for her legs. The stainless steel holder sparkled in the candlelight, glinted coldly on the water's surface. Laura turned it over and over in her hand, this too had no reality. A new refrain was added, silently, internally, but somehow it echoed through the empty house. Do it, Laura, do it. Her fingers moved of their own volition, removing the double-edged blade from its holder. Vaguely she could remember replacing it recently. When had it been? Was it only yesterday? No matter, she knew it would be sharp, not dulled by hair or skin. Do it, Laura. There would be no pain, it would not be real. Do it, Laura, nothing is real. Yes, her mind answered and the voices that were no part of her agreed. No pain, no problems. It will be over soon, all be over soon. Do it, Laura, it will be easy, easy enough to stop. "Yes," she whispered over the cooling water. "Yes," she whispered and watched, uncaring, unfeeling, as her fingers deftly slit her wrists open to the bone. Yes, the voices sighed. The water darkened, the room darkened. Before blackness descended she saw the blade drift, gently and silently, to rest on the bottom of the tub. |
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