The bathroom mirror is full of smudges and dirt though he still looks at his reflection. He turns the water on and cups his hands underneath the flowing drip. He looks down into the small pool that rests in his hands. Once again looking into his own eyes. He cannot bear it much longer. He splashes the pocket of water his face and lets the beads run down his face like rain trickling down a spout. He reaches for the dry coarse hand towel that is hanging limply off the corner of the sink basin. He finishes his business in the bathroom and heads to his bedroom. Upon the merlot colored bedspread, he once again finds himself perusing the scrapbook titled: In loving memory of my wife, Jane. The pages are worn from the many times he has flipped through them. Some of the yellowing pages are stained with alcohol. Most are stained with tears. The pages are filled his favorite pictures of their life together. The last page is dedicated to a newspaper clipping of the accident.
Accident on County Rd. 58
Last night around 6 P.M., Charles and Jane Horowitz spun out of control and landed upside down in a ditch alongside County Rd. 58. According to scene investigators, Jane was thrown from the car, breaking her neck upon impact. Charles sustained major injuries to the arms and chest. Doctors at United Hospital say that he should exit intensive care in a couple days and be out of the hospital by next week. " When I came to the crash, I didn't think anyone could have survived it. By the grace of God we showed up on time or else I don't know if anything could have saved Mr. Horowitz," scene investigator Robert Crenshaw said. No funeral arrangements have been made.
Guilt has overcome him. No longer can he press on with the echoing memory of his wife's screaming voice throughout the twisting steel. He throws the scrapbook across the bedroom and sinks his head into his hands. Sobbing, he gets up goes to the window where a vase of a single daffodil rests. He gently takes the flower out of the vase and slides it in his breast pocket. He then turns and walks over to a stepping stool. A rope that is tied to a thick wooden beam dangles slightly above his head. The ominous shadow of a noose drapes his body in darkness. He places one foot upon the stool. One step closer to being guilt ridden. He places his other foot upon the stool. One step closer to not drowning in his own tears while tries to sleep. He places the dry rope around his neck. Tears cascading down his face, he murmurs "Soon, my lovely, soon."
One step closer to Jane.
