1 year ago 💘 for day 24, 2019 with 370 words.

Chlorine and Blood

I just can't take this anymore.- she said

First shot.

I'm empty, I'm Empty handed. - she trembled

From kilometres away anyone could hear the heavy sound of the gun falling in the floor — kinda louder than the shot itself. Louder than the screams in the hospital corridor.

I could see it in her eyes, I could feel the room re shaping itself following the waves created by the her hand — shaking, trembling.

The machines bleeping off beat. The smell of chlorine and blood.

Earlier today she told me that everything would be alright, that all our problems would go away.

That was 5 minutes after she asked who I'm.

Again. For the 5th time just this morning, as I always do: I always smile and say "its me, lekkerding". She seems to get it.

Fast forward to now I kinda get it but I don't think you do.

You guys are just here, playing bad cop good cop, and I'm just the weirdo. The guy who saw his wife murder his own daughter and still manages to play it cool.

The guy in the right seems to have its shit together, he looks at me like intrigued. — So you saw your wife kill your daughter and you're not crying?

Why would I? That's life; people die everyday and yeah it was my daughter but crying, specially in front of the police, will not help me in any way.

The guy on the left is just waiting for me to slip to convict me for it.

— Why was there chloride in your kitchen floor?

"Well, dumbass, I have a pool, and I'm the guy who does maintenance."

A few weeks ago Lisa told me to do something about our disgusting pool and I did but I couldn't have picked a worse day because, you know, she shot the entire family and now I'm here in a hospital bed being questioned by the police because they think I did it.


I kinda like where this story is going but I'm quite tired now so I'll finish it some other day.


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By Pedro Marques


Product designer based in Amsterdam and hoping to move all my drafts to published this year. @pmarquees on twitter

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