The Red Stain (excerpts)

She swirled the glass. The wine tossed and churned, the crimson waves at fight with each other until a drop bounced, hit the edge, teetering dangerously before plopping down on the white couch.

She just studied the red stain that was expanding with every passing second, not in a hurry to get it cleaned up until she heard footsteps approach the door.

Her eyes flew to the door, watching as it swung open, before they settled on the stain again.

She heard him come in, his scuffles echoing on the hardwood floor.

There was a minute’s pause.

“You’re not supposed to be drinking.”

Her eyes skittered across the room, meeting his warm ones. They held each other’s gaze. Her stomach knotted at the thought of talking to him, him out of all the people. “I’m not.” She glanced away. “It’s calming, just holding it.”

He dropped the keys on the counter, shrugging off his blazer before making his way towards her.

The couch dipped as he sat down, his shoulder brushing against hers. She stiffened.

He pulled her hand into his, squeezing it tightly. “Look at me.” His lukewarm breath prickled her neck.

She shook her head vehemently, tears now welling up in her eyes. She couldn’t. Not after what she had done.

Her lower lip quivered, a tear drop now trickling down her face. In the moment’s weakness, the glass slipped from her hands, plunging and shattering into a million fragments; the wine toppled and seeped into the carpet.

She broke down then; deep, aching sobs emanating from her body.

She buried her face in her hands. Her heart thumped against her chest, adrenaline coursing through her veins.

A hammering silence drummed in her ears.

She couldn’t keep it to herself, not anymore. The guilt was gnawing away at her, pulling down her walls, brick by brick.

“I killed him.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

The words hung in the air, pregnant.

She breathed in and then out, opening her eyes. Her gaze shifted to him, eyes swimming with tears. “I killed our son.”