The Nape of the Neck
03 Sep 2019Today’s prompt: “The nape of her husband’s neck”
Her eyes sighted along the nape of her husband’s neck as she stood behind his easy chair, ax wound up behind her, looking for all the world like a pulp horror comic cover.
She’d spent 22 years married to him. 22 years of enduring his belittlement. 22 years of “Ugh, Lorrie, hurry up and put your makeup on,” of “Shut up, Lorrie, can’t you see the game’s on?”, of “This is why everybody thinks you’re crazy, Lorrie.” 22 years of lewd comments about her sister. 22 years of threats and yelling and of him storming out of the room.
After 22 years, she had finally had it. And so she made her target halfway between his combover and his shoulders and she swung the ax down and his blood splattered her apron.
And it felt so good. It felt so empowering. For the first time in decades, she felt free. And she wanted more.
Police took Lorrie in after she’d dashed out into the street with her ax and taken the heads of the first four people she ran into. You were number three.