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Tag Archives: blue-eyed man
What’s a good day? Is it when he wakes up calmly and takes the pills she leaves out for him? Is it when he waits for her, if he gets up before her? Is it when he doesn’t break a … Continue reading
This is the last time, he told himself. The last time I will pick her up. The last time I’ll mop up puke and wash blood from her hair and have to sober up because I can’t drink while I’m … Continue reading
She woke in chains, only knowing so because of their rattle and weight. The room was night, oilblack and just as thick; the heaviness of the damp and the irons made everything just that much more suffocating. And her head … Continue reading
She went out the window one morning, when he went to get the paper. He’d established a routine and she watched it faithfully, followed it; it seemed he was less agitated when she did. All the same, she watched him … Continue reading