Unhinge - Calia Read Page 0,109
I’m the villain. Everyone needs to have a villain in their life, don’t they? A person they can dump all their problems on. And you…” He shakes his head, as if he’s disappointed in me. “You look like the victim. You relish playing the victim role because as long as you have someone to blame then you never have to look at yourself and what you’ve done.” There’s anticipation in his eyes, as if he’s saved the best for last. “Let me tell you the truth.”
May 2015
You can treat the world one of two ways: as your friend or opponent.
Go down the path of the first and you’re doomed. You’ll say things like, “That’s the way life is.” Or my favorite: “Chin up, pal. Next time will be better.”
But there’s no next time and by the time you realize that, you’re already gone.
I’ve taken the path less chosen. The one people are afraid to take. But life is one giant game of chess and the world is my opponent. Every move and choice has a motive behind it. My guard is never down.
You learn so much going down this road. And soon, life will start to admire you. It’ll give you hints here and there and it’s your job to pick each one and collect them like rocks.
I’ve learned so much from life: when to smile. How to engage and what to say at just the right time. It’s also showed me that you never strike back when you are hurt.
You wait.
Through that wait a seed of patience grows, takes root. It calms you down, tells you to watch and wait, when all you want to do is react. The urge to grab hold of your opponent’s pain and throw out their strength. But patience tells you to wait; you don’t want your opponent to become suspicious.
You let them live life completely unaware that the whole time you’re tracking everything they’re doing. You’ll learn all there is to know about them.
Soon…soon it’s time to strike.
And your anger? Oh, it’s there. But you don’t use it yet. So you mold it, twisting it this way and that, knowing that the longer you hold it back the more furious it gets.
Don’t worry, it will all work out in the end.
When all is said and done, when you let your pain free, it will hit your opponent so forcefully that their life will drain away, like blood from a wound.
And Victoria’s life was all around me.
It covered my hands, streaked the floor, and dirtied the countertops. On one white cabinet was a streak of her fingertips, dragging down, down, down. But this wasn’t how I wanted it to play out. Plan A—my best-laid plan. The one that I’d spent years crafting was down the fucking drain and now I needed to go with Plan B.
Very slowly I stood up and reminded myself that Victoria and I would have a great life together. I knew the second I saw her, walking down the street, so sweet and distracted, that there was nothing in the world that would keep me from her. Including a moment like this.
I loved her. She was this beautiful doll who was so open and composed, but held so much back.
It was fascinating.
My beautiful doll was much more cunning than I ever thought. It’s as though she had risen to the occasion and showed me just how perfect she was for me.
I picked up the knife. Without a second thought I swiftly swiped it across my forearm, watching with a satisfied smile as dark red freely flowed down my arm and trickled onto the floor.
I cut my other forearm. The pool of blood started to pick up and on my knees I moved, making sure that her blood was mixed with mine.
Just as I predicted, the cops were close. I could hear the faint but growing sound of sirens.
I stood up and let the knife fall to the floor. Blood was splattered across the kitchen cabinets, oven door. A few drops had managed to make it onto the counter. Not a drop was on the divorce papers.
It was an impressive scene. I could have stared at it all day long.
Reluctantly, I hurried toward the doorway and dragged my fingertips down the wall. I slammed my palm against the other wall, watching as crimson stained the white walls. Then I ran into the mudroom, toward the back door. I made sure to keep it open. Not all the way, just slightly cracked.