[This short is in response to the June 1st Writing Challenge]

Solante sat in her new home in the dark thinking about what had brought her to this point. First the sale on the house had fallen through, (the idiot had a short sale and still refused to be out before Christmas,) then she and her lover Karen had been forced by their own pending sale to move in with Karen’s mother in a cracker-box of a house for two months while looking for a new place. And Karen’s mom didn’t approve of her. Not when Solante stood as s tangible finality to Karen’s failed marriage, even if her daughter Nia loved her “second mom” more than peanut butter. (If a person smiles in the dark, does it let any light in?)

The moving storage container had gotten a ticket because of the alternate side street parking, and last week her car had been broken into; the stupid crook had used a crowbar on the dashboard, causing a thousand dollars worth of damage to steal a hundred dollar radio. Totaled. Now she had no transportation and a higher premium. She and Karen had started snapping at each other under the stress, and when Solante was passed over for a promotion that she been all but promised by her supervisor, the hot summer night she came home had been the last straw of the nightmare.

They screamed, she hit. Karen left with a bleeding lip, crying, and never came back. So here Solante sat, in a cheap but available apartment with no electric, empty but for a small stack of boxes in each room, listening to Nia’s voice echo through her mind. The black maw of the closet made her see stars in its void, and she had to remind herself to breathe when the depression lay too heavy on her chest.

She had thought they would be together, all three of them. She and Karen had so much in common. They liked the same clubs, the same movies, they were both savers rather than spenders, (and they say that the way you approach money is really the key to a successful relationship, right?) They had agreed that they needed to move, too. Before the nightmare of it had started. Obvious, really.

There was one thing about Karen that Solante had recognized in the end. She was attracted to abusive relationships. The thing they had done together before the move should have kept them a couple forever. Solante thought about what lay in the bottom of the tape-covered box by the sink. The reason they had to move, the blood stains on the hatchet. She smiled again to herself in the dark apartment. The secret of what lay beneath the concrete cellar of the old house; that was a secret she would share with Karen forever.

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2 Responses to Separated

  1. What a twisted little story. Good job!

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