Our First Home

(Published at The Writers Club)

Our apartment backdoor shuddered as I slipped
through another night of searching alone.
Hannah’s tongue cut me with accusations.
If narrow crinkled eyes could kill,
I’d rest in a graveyard of regret.
Something dissolved in my drink.
The next thing I knew,
I batted my eyes open
as she drove deep into the woods.
Beside me, there was a shovel.
I had restraints around my wrists
and feet.
Hannah taped my mouth shut.
I mumbled in pleas,
but words blurred the lines
of insanity.
She perceived that I cheated.
And for that, my death
hung on her screams and shook along
bumpy trip.
She says she told her friends I was the one.
But now, time stood still.
Hannah shouted that I wouldn’t die quickly.
She’d leave me for the bears to decide
whether I’d make for a splendid dinner.
We drove until shadows replaced the day’s rays.
The car rolled to a halt.
I sighed hard.
“Still alive?” Hannah said, tapping her fingernails along the trunk.
“Whatever you think, it isn’t true.”
Hannah spits out her gum. “You think I’m stupid, don’t you?” she said in a thunderous tone that echoed throughout the forest.
“A house,” I said.
“What about a house?”
“That’s where I was—”
“You were going to surprise me with our first home?” Hannah popped the trunk and smiled. “In that case, show me our home.”

Twitter – @AC0040

(© 2023 AC)

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