Anger is a strong feeling. Anger encompasses everyone. Sooner or later you will want to destroy something. Soon the worlds of a few select people will collide. A seemingly explainable list of events link together by the victims.


2. The words Roy's throat caught.



She will love it im sure. I have it all planned perfectly. First breakfast in bed. Then i will read to her some of her favourite poems by Bukowski. Then i will run her a bath. I will do all of this for the woman i love. But first i need to place the rose petals down. I need to make the breakfast itself and make sure she has a nice lie in.

Every Valentine's Day has been slightly dismal these last ten years, but this one will be different. At forty if you have been married for half that time you need to show the woman you love how much she mean to you all the time.

I crack the eggs. Three of them. I pour milk. Some chopped parsley. Cream. I whisk it well. I watch it all melt together. I pour it in and watch for a second or two. It sizzles in my ears. I feel as though im pressing my head against the pan. Feeling that heat. The moist air tickle my ear like a tongue. I begin to stir it around. The sensation dies.

The toast pops up like a gun shot. I don’t remember putting it in but low and behold two pieces of seeded toast. I navigate my IKEA kitchen with ease. I work easier and easier nowadays in this room. I cook so much for Millie – my wife if you hadn’t guessed – and i just know she loves my cooking.

The food is done. I place it on the counter to cool. Next is the bath. I make a trail of rose petals following me. Looking a lot like spots of blood chasing me. Soon i find myself speeding up, convinced im being followed by a trail of sanguineous ichor. I open the bathroom door. I pour in deep sea blue bath oils, i throw in a bath bomb and the rest of the petals. It's a big bath, fairly sized. Nice and deep. Often Millie likes to submerge herself under it, which scares me to death because i think that she has drowned. Can you imagine that? What a horrible valentine's day that would be.

It is time to gently wake her up. I take the poetry book and open the door. A shape, is under the covers. I sit on my side of the bed and pull back the covers. Nothing. No one. Maybe she got up. Maybe she's looking for me right now? I get up. I tear into the living room. No, not under the table. Not in the cabinet. Not the fish tank. Nowhere. Unless she is in the bathroom. I run into the there. The bath is still running.

I throw the poetry book in there. Has she left me? Is this what has happened? Has she gotten up, taken her stuff, and fled. But where to? I need to ask someone. Maybe Lydia will know. I run to the phone and call her.

"Hello Dad."

"Hey Lydy" I say, trying to sound calm. Trying not to let on that i want to crush this phone into tiny pieces and devour it. Feel the cracked plastic shred my throat open. Here the speaker and electric innards hit my gut with a splash.

"Dad? Are you ok?"

"Your mom is gone."

"I know." She says. No guilt in her voice. How could the little traitor know?

"How can you know?"

"Dad she's gone." She's crying now.

"You didn't think to tell me, to warn me, you stuck up little traitor, you probably helped her. Where is she? Where are you hiding her? I had it all planned out."

Her sobs make no sense. She sounds irrational. I berate her a while longer before throwing the phone at the wall. It shatters beautifully. Millie, where are you? I check again. No not in the pantry, or the bathroom. Nowhere. Not in the hall. Under the bed. My wife is gone.

I go into our room. Maybe she was in the bed. Maybe i just didn't see her. Imagine that. I throw off the bed clothes, standing tall. I look in the drawers. No sign of her. Maybe her arms in here. Maybe her legs here. No. Nothing.

On the dresser is something. Something that makes my blood run cold. A remnant of wife who has obviously run of with another man. The wedding ring. I see it. And i can't help but be filled with rage.

I beat the wall until beads of blood run over my hands. I pick up the wedding ring and clamp my teeth down on it. Trying to bend it out of shape. Break the eternal circle whose sanctity has been violated.

I run to the bathroom. Its flooded over. I take all the bath salts, the expensive lotions, the nice smelling bath liquid and empty it all. At least someone will enjoy it. I screamed over and over. I had it all planned.

It stings. My knuckles sting like hell. It's like acid.

I call her name out. I want people to hear. I yell. Over and over. My voice goes hoarse and i still go on and on. It's like shifting gravel with your Adams apple. She left no note. No goddamn sign. Bubbles foam up everywhere.

I want to scream over and over but like all good things i had to end it.

I walk down stairs and find the food i cooked. It tastes bad. I throw it into the bathroom. I look out the window and see it all. The city streets. She must have climbed out when i was sleeping. I know it. I imagine jumping. And dying.

Can you imagine that? On valentines die no less.

There's knocking at my door. The water has reached the living room. There's probably someone down stairs right now waking up thinking they are sleeping with the fishes. I laugh at the unfunny joke.

I open the door. Its John from down the hall.

"My god Roy what the hell happened?"

"Nothing." I reply.

"Nothing? I get a call from your daughter, saying you have lost it. And i answer he door, your hand is bleeding, your covered with suds. And to top it all off the goddamn apartment is flooding."

"She has left me. On valentine's day, she left."


"Millie! God damn it my wife has run off with someone."

"No she hasn't-"

"Why are you so damn quick to come to her defence?" Then it all kicks into place. It was him. He is the one she ran off with. He is here to get her stuff. Can you imagine that? On valentine's day as well. "So, it's you."


"Do not dare. Don't you dare play dumb with me you tiny little man. You took my wife and your here to what, finish the job, the shock of her leaving hasn't killed me so here you are." It makes more sense than i could have imagined. He took her, he lives the across the hall, it makes so much sense. I hit him, in the face. He just stands there. I kick him, he moves to the left this time.

"Stop Roy, i don’t want to hurt you."

"Where is my god damn wife?"

"She is dead."

That stops me. Right dead in my tracks. So he killed my wife and now he is here to get me. Can you imagine that? Of all the days of the year, valentine's day.

"You killed her?"

"No." He grabs me. He puts his arm around my head and holds me down. "She died of cancer three months ago. And today is December the third."

"No." I shout. I scream at him. "No she ran off. Today was the valentine's day. I had it all planned god damn it."

Imagine having your heart ripped out through your throat. Times that by ten. Then you come close to the sensation i have in my brain right now. Like a vice is crushing my head. John helps me to my feet. I go to his apartment and he makes coffee. But i don’t stay long. Some men from down the street need to talk to me. They come in a big van. Probably taking me somewhere nice. That's what John tells me anyway.

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