The Glass

I Regret. I had to keep my cool. But when I drink a few more glasses, it’s impossible. I freak out. They say your true self comes out when you’re drunk. If that’s the case, then I must be scared of myself.

I’ve never lost control so much before. It just happened. Now that I think about it, I overreacted. Maybe he pushed me too far. Some men do that. From a sober point of view, it’s funny why we fought. If we hadn’t been drinking, none of this would have happened.

It is my fault. I have brought him to the state he is by nonsense. I am akin to a criminal. I couldn’t stand the yelling. I had to be patient, hold back, think about the implications, show understanding, or just stay with the yelling. They say a dog that barks doesn’t bite. I barked and bit.

He was cruel to me, saying words I couldn’t bear to hear. I was saying words I didn’t want to say. We were arguing quietly at that table for two in that high-class restaurant. We didn’t want to draw attention, but the words started to get loud, like the gestures.

Why we were fighting, I don’t remember. He commented about an old crush I ran into, that he happened to call me after that. I retaliated meanly for the girl he kept hanging out with, even though they had been in a past relationship. One thing led to another. Then the matter got confused, with complaints, threats to end our relationships, and accusations.

I’m not a woman who tolerates being talked to like that. At that moment, it seemed like a good idea to teach him a lesson, punish him, and show who had the upper hand. With a menacing smile, I grabbed the glass. I no longer heard the words from the mouth that was moving ostentatiously. My ears were buzzing under the calm conversations of the other tables.

I did not threaten him, no, nor did I warn him. The movement suddenly became mechanical, with coldness. I aimed for his skull. I didn’t expect to throw it with such hatred and hit the arrow I shot. He went limp as soon as it touched him. Blood poured from the top of his head, his disoriented and panicked eyes searched for the cause and meaning of what I was doing. Terrified by the red color that bathed his suit and hands, he passed out.

I overreacted. I had to think this move through. I am scared of myself. I am ashamed to face him in the hospital. I almost killed the man I love.

Created by Diana Chemeris

Story in Greek:

Δημοσιεύτηκε από τον dianachem

Fairy Tales May Be Real


Εισάγετε τα παρακάτω στοιχεία ή επιλέξτε ένα εικονίδιο για να συνδεθείτε:


Σχολιάζετε χρησιμοποιώντας τον λογαριασμό Αποσύνδεση /  Αλλαγή )

Φωτογραφία Facebook

Σχολιάζετε χρησιμοποιώντας τον λογαριασμό Facebook. Αποσύνδεση /  Αλλαγή )

Σύνδεση με %s

Αρέσει σε %d bloggers: