Every person has a breaking point. For some people, it may take years for them to hit it or it could be just a matter of moments. The moment can be an earth shattering event or just the smallest comment that just pierces you like a knife. However, what do you do at that moment when the mental snap occurs in your head?
Heather stopped dead in her tracks and just stared at her husband for a moment. “What,” was all she could think of saying to him? Tom repeated his comment and turned back to watch the football game as if nothing had happened. In Tom’s mind, nothing had happened; he just stated an observation and moved on with his life. Heather’s life, however, came to a complete halt. She walked into the kitchen and started the kettle for some hot Darjeeling tea. She always loved this tea; it was so smooth and calming to her. Maybe it would give her some clarity. She closed her eyes just as she started to replay the moment; the tea kettle started to whistle. As she walked up the back stars dunking the tea bag up and down in the hot water, Heather kept thinking. “What in the hell just happened? What did I do wrong? Why do I keep fucking up like this? What in the hell is wrong with me?” She passed her kids in the bonus room and lightly kissed them on the top of their heads. They gave her the “Whatever” grunt and a “Mom, I am trying to talk to Sophie” comment.
The old sleeper sofa in the sewing/office/guest bedroom was her destination. Heather kicked off her shoes and wrapped a blanket around her as she drank her tea. Her mind was blank as she faced the Monet print; she didn’t see it before her. When she was finished with her tea, she quietly curled herself into the couch and blanket so it almost looked like she wasn’t there. With her eyes closed, she drifted back. It was like watching a video. She was on the couch in the living room reading a Nora Roberts novel. The sex scene was a good one. The leading man slowly, gently caressed the leading lady’s body. The kisses were soft and lingering just a hint of tongue here and there. It was the kind of smoldering kiss that they do in the Hollywood movies. Heather looked up with a girlish grin at her husband and thought “Why not.” She closed the book, and walked over to Tom. She bent over him and kissed him as the characters had just done in the novel. After about 5 seconds, she pulled away slightly and looked into her husband’s eyes as she smiled. Staring back at her were these angry eyes that seemed to pierce through her. “Who in the hell are you kissing?” barked Tom. “What?” replied Heather.
She opened her eyes and looked around the sewing room. There was a Monet print of an open meadow where the flowers seemed to sway in the wind. She glanced at them and desperately wanted to be there or anywhere in the world but not here. That is when Heather snapped.
She stopped reading the romance novels and started reading murder mysteries. Each book was darker than the last. The murders were more gruesome and cruel. With each story, Heather replaced the victim’s character with Tom. She would relish in the way the murder would plan, stalk, and kill his victims. As she finished reading the kill scene in this latest novel, Heather with a malicious smile glanced over to Tom and thought “Why not.”
MythKeeper
