Walking through the house for the last time flooded
Rosemary’s mind with lost memories she’d rather have forgotten. Nine years of
her life she’d tried to erase but the house always reminded her of the pain
she’d been through. The staircase moaned and croaked as she made what seemed
like the one hundredth journey up toward her bedroom glancing at the smashed
picture frames on her way. When Geoff and she had moved in they’d beamed with
pride over the lavish cream carpets they’d sprawled over several of the upstairs
rooms, now they were stained with red wine and painful memories. Rosemary
stumbled into her bedroom clumsily and quickly gathered together a few of the
skirts and blouses she’d left crumpled up on the floor and stuffed them into a
brown suitcase, the same brown suitcase the couple had taken on their first
holiday to Cornwall, the same brown suitcase she had threatened to pack up and
leave with so many times before. She turned to leave the room and stopped at
the sight of a fly buzzing around a lamp so went to open the window before
realising it was already ‘open’. Shattered glass littered the floor around the
window where a television had been thrown out and landed on a bed of dead
flowers below. The sounds of silence were suddenly broken by a phone ringing
downstairs, Rosemary gingerly headed downstairs past the ruined carpet once
again toward the kitchen were the phone was reluctantly placed on the kitchen
floor. ‘Hello’ answered Rosemary with a timid voice awaiting the reply on the
other end of the line. ‘Rosemary, this is Geoff…don’t worry I forgive you’
replied the voice. The silence returned. ‘It was your mother wasn’t it,
poisoning your mind with her words against me’ bellowed the voice that was
becoming angrier. Rosemary dropped the suitcase to the floor, it landed with a
thud, so did Rosemary herself minutes later as her she fell to the floor and
leant against the Kitchen cabinets. ‘Before I died, I left some things for you,
they’re in a box beside the sofa’ continued the voice as Rosemary’s eyes turned
to the phone cord, it wasn’t plugged in, in fact it was destroyed. Rosemary
inhaled and hung the phone up before heading toward the sofa. The box was there
as the voice had said but Rosemary was more reluctant than ever to open it. She
opened the box. Inside was nothing but a toy car, metal, yellow, but splattered
with a haunting crimson. Rosemary knew exactly what it was, she knew because
she’d put it there and it was the one thing she didn’t want to ever see again.
Two months ago Rosemary had hit her husband Geoff over the head with this toy
car, a fatal blow that would send him to his death. The car belonged to
Rosemary as a child, her family couldn’t afford many toys but this was one she
cherished. The final blow came after Rosemary had finally had enough of Geoff;
she’d known he’d been cheating on her for three years now. Rosemary grabbed the
car and stuffed the item into the suitcase before departing the house full of
memories. The police would have all the evidence they needed by now and Rosemary
had a plane to catch, she shut the suitcase into the back of the taxi before
taking her seat as she looked up at the house one final time. The silence was
disrupted by the sounds of police sirens in the distance.
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