Post by bapiau on May 6, 2006 12:50:44 GMT -6
Cider is an awful drink, but it was all Ben could afford anymore. He’d spent his money on his new motorbike, which was not a waste of money thank you very much Lara, and more alcohol. At present he had just finished locking his baby away in the shed after driving it, somewhat wobbly, home from the pub. He’d had a couple of pints of Cider but, no thanks, he didn’t need to be driven home; he was perfectly capable of driving himself. Besides, he wasn’t about to leave his baby outside the pub all night for drunks to urinate over.
He wobbled unsteadily into the passageway, the living room light was on, unusual. Or was it? She sometimes left the light on when he went out, or did he switch it on himself and then forget. No matter, she was sitting in her chair.
She always insisted on giving him the third degree; where have you been? Do you know what time it is? Did you drive home in that state? You know perfectly where you stupid cow, the pub was his only escape from your rantings. And anyway, he wasn’t in a state so of course he drove himself home. Now what was that look for?
Her eyes say; ‘you stupid man’ and ‘what did I see in you‘. She is upset, relieved and disappointed. How dare she be disappointed she was the one who failed to meet his expectations. How dare she turn this on him. He would have to knock some sense into her. He hated doing it but, needs must and she drove him to it when she acted this way.
She stood against him, always defiant. His hand was around her throat. Stop wriggling while I teach you a lesson, how can I do anything with you when you are like this? He spat in her face. She gagged, the smell of alcohol was overwhelming, then she was still. Passed out from fear and pain probably. How could he teach her now? He would have to finish later- she had to be awake. Had to take it all in. Had to- breathe. Breathe.
He vomited over her prone body; the stench was disgusting. Her fault. He kicked her. He had to go, had to get out, she disgusted him. Cider disgusted him; it made him do these things. Made him throw up, made him hurt, made him angry. But it gave him the courage to teach her a lesson. She needed it. She always needed it. He needed air.
He stumbled outside, toward the shed. He’d go for a drive- his bike always made him feel better, made him feel free.
The next morning a neighbour knocked on the door. She had heard them going at it again, not that she didn’t have anything better to do but it was terribly annoying. Getting no answer, how inconsiderate, she had only come to check on them, she let herself in through the back. The smell hit her instantly, disgusting.
She found Lara in the living room. Cold. Lifeless. She called an ambulance, she wasn’t breathing and yes she was cold. Then it was too late. She had drowned, already unconscious, in a pool of vomit.
It wasn’t till a few days later that the body of a young man was found. An elderly man out for a walk had discovered him, along with his mangled bike. He was in a ditch- a mass of leaking petrol and dried blood. An unwelcome surprise in his walk, the man decided to change his route next time.
Yes, Ben hated cider, it was an awful drink, but it seemed it didn’t agree with him either.
He wobbled unsteadily into the passageway, the living room light was on, unusual. Or was it? She sometimes left the light on when he went out, or did he switch it on himself and then forget. No matter, she was sitting in her chair.
She always insisted on giving him the third degree; where have you been? Do you know what time it is? Did you drive home in that state? You know perfectly where you stupid cow, the pub was his only escape from your rantings. And anyway, he wasn’t in a state so of course he drove himself home. Now what was that look for?
Her eyes say; ‘you stupid man’ and ‘what did I see in you‘. She is upset, relieved and disappointed. How dare she be disappointed she was the one who failed to meet his expectations. How dare she turn this on him. He would have to knock some sense into her. He hated doing it but, needs must and she drove him to it when she acted this way.
She stood against him, always defiant. His hand was around her throat. Stop wriggling while I teach you a lesson, how can I do anything with you when you are like this? He spat in her face. She gagged, the smell of alcohol was overwhelming, then she was still. Passed out from fear and pain probably. How could he teach her now? He would have to finish later- she had to be awake. Had to take it all in. Had to- breathe. Breathe.
He vomited over her prone body; the stench was disgusting. Her fault. He kicked her. He had to go, had to get out, she disgusted him. Cider disgusted him; it made him do these things. Made him throw up, made him hurt, made him angry. But it gave him the courage to teach her a lesson. She needed it. She always needed it. He needed air.
He stumbled outside, toward the shed. He’d go for a drive- his bike always made him feel better, made him feel free.
The next morning a neighbour knocked on the door. She had heard them going at it again, not that she didn’t have anything better to do but it was terribly annoying. Getting no answer, how inconsiderate, she had only come to check on them, she let herself in through the back. The smell hit her instantly, disgusting.
She found Lara in the living room. Cold. Lifeless. She called an ambulance, she wasn’t breathing and yes she was cold. Then it was too late. She had drowned, already unconscious, in a pool of vomit.
It wasn’t till a few days later that the body of a young man was found. An elderly man out for a walk had discovered him, along with his mangled bike. He was in a ditch- a mass of leaking petrol and dried blood. An unwelcome surprise in his walk, the man decided to change his route next time.
Yes, Ben hated cider, it was an awful drink, but it seemed it didn’t agree with him either.