Burning Christmas

<<Don’t do it.>> she shouted. <<Think of the children.>>

Furious, I wasn’t thinking. She doesn’t respect me. I work hard to feed her and our children. I am the base of this family. And yet, I come home to find ingratitude, whining, and complaining. Nowhere does this woman fill me anymore. How did I fall in love with her and marry her?

It’s the holidays. I deserve a night alone, away from home, from the children’s voices and the house’s chaos. I chose the friends I hadn’t seen in a while. A different kind of chaos, enjoyable for me. I don’t see them often, home, office, home again, I’ve missed their company. Today I decided to dedicate the evening to me.

Okay, we got a little carried away with the guys. The drinks and shots didn’t stop. We started in a simple festive bar and ended up in a strip club. I couldn’t stand her phone calls, which started early in the evening. I turned off the phone. I knew I had to be there in the morning when the children opened their presents, and I would be. I also wanted my own gift, the freedom of an evening, holidays that are.

No, I didn’t find another woman or cheat on her. Some cocaine passed my nose, and we ended up in a decadent bar. Wearing a Santa hat on my head, the drinks and lines continued.

I came home at dawn, still with my hat on. As soon as I saw her on the couch next to the Christmas tree, I knew what would happen next. She was waiting for me, nervous, pissed off with dark circles from insomnia. I was fixed and dizzy, with an intense look, and smelled alcohol. She started talking badly, things I had heard before but never affected me. But today, they pissed me off.

I don’t respect our family, and I don’t respect her, she says. All I do is work and let her have her gifts and comforts. All I do is work, give our children a future, for them to go to good schools and not miss anything. This woman doesn’t respect me. She doesn’t appreciate me and my needs as a man. Amidst the accusations she uttered, my mind became clouded.

My eyes were glazed over, and I felt intense emotions and discomfort. Yes, that was it. I had no idea what I was doing and saying. The children were awakened by the voices, hiding in their rooms. I could only hear the sounds of screams, shouts, and cries. I could not distinguish any of them. The fireplace is lit. But why did she leave it on…

I did it. Yes, I must have. The image came to life in my mind as I recovered from the experience and the dizziness. No matter how much my wife shouts, she does not harm anyone. I must have caught some coal with my hands. I can still feel the burn. It hurts.

<<Don’t do it.>> she shouted. <<Think of the children.>> It seemed funny to me, at that moment, to scare her. I didn’t think about the consequences. I threw the coal at the tree, and I was laughing. I did not think about my actions. The tree caught fire immediately. We sprayed it with spray mixed with gold dust when we decorated it. In a few seconds, the curtain caught fire, and in a few minutes, the whole living room.

I don’t usually react like this. It must have been the booze and the drugs. She pushed me to my limits, and I broke down. I lost my patience and my self-control. I have entertainment needs too. She didn’t respect it. No, she wanted to play smart. Now all she has managed to do is me sitting in the police car with accusations, her looking in disbelief and shock at me and the burning house, and our children traumatized.

Created by Diana Chemeris

Δημοσιεύτηκε από τον dianachem

Fairy Tales May Be Real

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