I can’t feel you anymore.
I woke this morning and sensed the absence of you. It used to be that I was more aware of you than my own breathing. Your thoughts ran a sort of wavelength beneath my own: a form of wordless background noise. That is the way that I remember it, as far back as I’ve known you. This empathy is part of what bound us together from the beginning.
I know you so well. I know your routine.
Sometimes, I’d count your footsteps as you crossed the kitchen floor above me.
You have your morning coffee with a cigarette. You like eggs and bacon, toast buttered thickly.
I miss the sound of the radio playing. I miss that song that comes on every afternoon. It’s an old rock song about standing in the darkness and not being forgotten.
I can relate.
It’s only been two weeks I’ve been here, but it feels so much longer. I may not have been the perfect wife, but I loved you fiercely. I told you from the beginning that I was different.
And you knew that, didn’t you? We have known each other since we were little more than children. Surely an ordinary woman could not read your mind. You loved me back then, didn’t you? We spent our teens together and married young. Somewhere in this basement , I still have our wedding album.
We were happy back then. That was before you realized the truth. I trusted you. And I shouldn’t have.
You never minded at all when I worked my abilities to your benefit.
Mind control is such a subtle thing. A little push here, a tug there. Make that banker give you a loan for your construction business it should never have qualified for. Make your rivals meet with unfortunate , deadly accidents. Who would think anything of it? Yours is a perilous business. Men have been known to be crushed , buried or electrocuted by poor machinery.
A mere suggestion could solve so many problems.
I think what happened to your brother was too much. His blood was thicker than anything I had to offer you, wasn’t it? How many times can I apologize? All I can say is that he came after me. I am your wife. Some boundaries should be respected. Yes, I killed him. I made his heart stop. There was an artery, with the slightest defect which he’d had since birth. And with a little push, the quickest of thoughts, I was able to make it collapse.
To everyone, this was a tragedy, the natural death of a man in his prime. I am sorry for the pain this has caused you. But he got what he deserved.
I saw how you stared at me during the funeral. You knew.
So, you put me down here, in the basement. It was to protect everyone from me, you said.
Who, my darling, did you think would protect you?
I never imagined, with all the love between us that I could hate you. Life shows us things we cannot imagine.
Yesterday morning, I closed my eyes and thought of you. I pictured you sitting at the kitchen table, eating your eggs. And I imagined what it would be like if your throat started to constrict. How your eyes would widen because you couldn’t swallow.
It will take another day or so before they find your body slumped over the table. They will find me locked in the basement. I will tell them how stricken with grief you were, and that you locked me down here for two weeks.
That much won’t be a lie.
Maybe, if you hadn’t been alone, I could have helped you. Maybe if you hadn’t locked me away in the basement, you wouldn’t have choked and died on your own gall.
It’s over now, my darling. I wish you peace. Better yet, I promise it. You won’t forget me.