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The Car Crash

'Honey, I'm home.'

"You can't just buy a new house every time someone pisses you off, Bunny." 

My mother's words were ringing in my ear as the realtor handed over the keys.

Shut up! I think. I have to do what is best for me! But judging by the look on her face I can now see that I just screamed that out at her. 

"I apologize. Every time I try and do anything less than cautious, I can hear my mother in my head."

"That's quite alright, Ms. James, It was not the first time I've been yelled at by a buyer, and I'm sure it won't be the last. Have a good day." 

With that she strolled back to her car and got in. I turned back towards the rocky stone pavement leading up to the house. 

"Well, it's not the most ideal place I've ever bought, but at least the work will keep my mind off of my life's current downward spiral," I say as I grab some of my belongings from the car. I pick up the box and walk towards the door. I try the knob. Of course. Locked. Why wouldn't she have left it unlocked? She knew that I was on the way here. No matter. I set the box down and unlock the huge wooden door. I kick it open the rest of the way and step inside. At least this place has some good bones. The stairs are mostly intact and the kitchen is pretty spacious. Would be a great place to have friends over, if I still had any. The divorce had not only taken a toll on me, but our mutual friends decided to pick sides, and as you could have guessed, they chose his. Not that I really cared anyways. They were all snobby copies of one another. Too caught up in their own lives to really give a shit about mine. As soon as Matthew said the word "divorce," the entire neighborhood knew, and they immediately gravitated towards him. 

"We always thought that she was crazy." 

"Something did seem off about her, now that you mention it." 

Fuck them. They are all so wrapped up in their money. Matt included. Why wouldn't they take his side? I had married into a load of money after all. Those bastards wanted to stay as close to the circle as possible. They wanted to be friends with the Richie Rich of Riceland Communities. That's fine with me. Good riddance. 

Now, contrary to what my old neighbors thought, I am not crazy. I suffer from schizophrenia, and I have been learning to cope with the voices as best I can. I have therapy three times a week, and so far, it seems to be helping. This house just so happened to open up as the divorce was settled. It's also pretty close to my psychiatrist, so that works out, I guess. 

I set the box down on the counter and then I hear it. The small voice of my timid father. 

"Looks nice honey. A great choice."

"What are you talking about, Richard?" 

"This is a terrible place for our Bunny!" 

"You should have stayed with Matt Darling, maybe could have gotten some counseling!"

"No, mother. Maybe him and that bimbo can go get some counseling. I'm sure they will need it once she sees his true colors." 

Even the voices in my head were smart enough to not be present when Matt threw his tantrums. Yelling, breaking things, bruising me. It was a never-ending cycle. I didn't just buy the other houses because he pissed me off. Well, that was a little of it. I was also trying to stay alive. Now that the divorce is final, I can start over again with no worries except for my own.  

I start to unpack some dishes for the kitchen. More voices. This time, I choose to ignore them. These voices are the ones that really bother me. They are unknown, like little people in my mid. Bad people, They tell me to do strange sometimes terrible things. I choose to ignore them most of the time. I set the bowls out and turn on the stove. The only food I managed to grab from the store was pasta, so spaghetti it is. 

I am exhausted after I get done. Almost like the noodles drained the life right out of me. I head upstairs for some shut-eye, but then I remember that I don't have my bed up yet. Ugh! Why can't these things just do themselves? I slide my shoes back on and grab the car keys. I start walking towards the door then from behind me I hear a rustle.

"Is someone in here?" I blurt out. 

No. Of course not. Why would someone be in here, Bunny? You're just hearing things. Then, again I hear the soft rustle, almost like the sound of socked feet. I glance over towards the kitchen. How much time would it take for me to run and grab a knife? I never get to find out. The door slams behind me and I feel familiar hands at my waist. 

"Honey, I'm home." 

"Matt?" 

I spin around in shock and look up at him. 

"You thought that you could just run away, after everything we've been through?"

"Matt, you were just as much a part of the divorce being settled as I was." 

"No, all of that was one-sided! You we're running away!"

I knew better than to try to argue with him, so I tried to change the subject.

"Do you want some spaghetti?" I muttered. "It's still warm."

"No I don't want any damn spaghetti. You are going to pack all this shit up and you are coming home with me!"

I glance at the door, trying to calculate how I could get out. I still had my keys in my hand. I just needed to edge towards the door, then make a break for it when he wasn't looking. He starts putting all the dishes I set out earlier back in the box. Now's my chance. I edge toward the door and sling it open. I dash outside and he's hot on my tail. I jab the unlock button on my car a couple of times, and he lunges forward in an attempt to tackle me. He trips on the stone pathway and goes down. All I hear next is his head slamming on the rocks below. The stone pavement may have just saved my life. I see red trickling from under his head. He must have hit in the exact spot to kill him. I try and kick him to make sure. He doesn't move. What do I do? Call 911. 

One of the voices piped up. "HE DESERVED IT!" 

I know that, but I can't just leave him here. People will see, I'll go to jail and I'll become someone's prison wife. No thanks! I turn around towards the car thankfully I remembered the bleach. Now what to do with the body? 

Another voice says, "You could put him back in the car and make it look like he crashed into a tree." 

For once, they might actually have a good idea. I grab his keys off of his side and run to his car. I step in and crank the engine. I back it up and quickly throw my seat belt across me. Then I make sure and add some skid marks across the yard. It has to look like he lost control. I then go and grab a huge rock from the pathway and put it in the driver's seat. I turn the wheel towards the tree and drop the rock on the gas pedal. It slams right into the tree. I then go and drag the bastard to the car and set him in the seat. I take out the rock and throw it in the woods, making sure I put both of his hands on the wheel to make everything as authentic as possible. I step back and admire my handy work. I'm satisfied. I grab the bottle of bleach out of the trunk and take to sponging the blood off the path. I manage to get the last bit of red off just as the sun is starting to peek out. I grab the bleach and sponge and go hide them in the attic. I take a quick shower and put on some pajamas. I pick up the phone and dial 911. As it's ringing I can hear my mother's voice ringing in my ear.

"My, that psychiatrist is going to have fun treating you after this."