TRIGGERED

Funny how..,
When things go wrong,
Especially when its our fault,
Our mind travels back along,
The past path.
Wading through irrelevant actions,
To find the exact point.
When our way was first lost,
When we made the decision,
To shift direction.
Mine was that Thursday night.
With the deliberate motion,
Of my left fist.
As it tightly gripped,
The instrument of my liberation.

He looked exactly the same,
As he did when I met him.
The same hard frame,
That had made me fall for him.
Unfortunately for me,
He wasn't the same.
It took a little gin to see it,
But all the same,
He had changed.
He came home,
Especially early that day.
Walked right passed me,
And mixed himself a gin and tonic.
I was glad.
Not that he was home,
But that he'd left me alone.

I'd bought us ribs.
His favourite,
Not mine.
He'd passed out on the new seats,
One leg hanging from the edge.
I was glad.
Not only was he quiet,
But also,
I didn't have to deal with him,
Atleast for a few hours.
We'd faught the night before,
And he'd won.
Leaving me with some bruises,
Just a few,
Nothing too serious.
Atleast that's what I would tell my friends.

I was half way through,
Deep frying his chow.
When I heard my phone ring,
But come to an abrupt hault.
I walked to the kitchen door,
Cautious with each step.
And saw him holding my phone,
With a grim look on his face.
One that I'd seen,
The night before.
I knew what was coming next.
He leaped forward,
Almost landing on my neck.
Grabbing the edge of my sweater,
Making it hard to catch a breath.

In the commotion,
I tripped and fell head first,
On the kitchen floor.
Since he was holding on,
He followed.
Adding on,
A hard right fist,
On my left cheek.
I tried to fight him off,
With my feet.
Kicking and fighting,
But he was too good at it.
He'd had alot of practise,
He never missed.
Every hit was on target.

The back of my phone,
Was hard as a rock.
That's what he used,
Thats what he used on my head.
Thud after thud,
Screaming at me.
Screaming that I was cheating.
That guys are calling me,
And hanging up when they hear him.
He showed me the number,
It was new to me.
But it didnt matter,
He'd had enough of me.
Enough of "my lies".

He grabbed me by my hair,
Blood soaked,.sticky..,slippery,
Getting me to my feet.
And dragged me to the fire,
Where I had been frying his ribs.
He pushed them aside,
And onto the floor they spilled.
His hands covered my entire head,
As he lead me to the heat.
Head first,
Intent on burning me.
He called it helping me,
Teaching me,
An overdue lesson,
On loyalty.
I held on to the edge of the sink.
The only thing,
Between me and the flames.
But he was too good at it,
I knew I couldn't win.

I kept my eyes closed.
As they were too swollen
And the heat too close,
To do otherwise.
Heard him laugh to himself,
Satisfied he'd win soon.
Get rid of the old one,
Making room for the new.
I struggled to open my eyes,
See the life I was leaving behind,
And then I saw it,
The seven inch blade,
On my left side.
The one,
He was too busy winning to see.
I grabbed it,
Held myself up using the sink,
Closed my eyes,
And plunged it deep in his chest.
Once..twice..
And a third
To be sure.

He fell,
I followed.
There was so much blood.
His and mine.
I passed out.
Felt like falling into a black hole.
When I woke,
The room was full of people.
Probably why I didnt notice,
The handcuffs on my wrists.
And that was it,
I got 25 years for it.
Makes you sick,
Doesn't it?
Well..I expected it,
He was well connected.
If you ask me..
It all went down hill,
When I went out and bought those ribs.