Roses From the Devil

» four

"I got my hands up! They're playing my song! They know I'm gonna be okay! Yea-eah, it's a party in the USA! Yea-eah, it's a party in the USA!"

I shake my hips to the tune of the song, laughing as I watch Jack dancing on the sofa. His movements are sloppy, but the joy radiating from him makes up for it.

"Mommy, my teacher played this song in school!" he exclaimed, jumping up and down on the sofa.

I giggled. "Yeah?"

"It's my favorite song in the whole entire world," he continued, and though I knew his "favorite" song changed every week, I played along.

I huffed just as the song started to come to an end, placing my hands on my knees as I tried to catch my breath. "Okay, buddy," I said between large gulps of air, "time for bed!"

"Nooo," Jack whined, jumping off the sofa, completely free from exertion. "I'm not sleepy!"

I clucked my tongue, pulling my hair up into a bun as I made my way towards our room, Jack sulking behind me as he followed. "It doesn't matter if you're sleepy or not right now. You're going to be sleepy in the morning."

"No, I won't. I promise!" he insists, "Please, Mommy. I don't even have school tomorrow!"

I sighed and spun on my heel to face him. "But I'm taking you to the park tomorrow, remember? If you don't go to sleep early, then I can't take you, buddy," I reminded him gently.

He threw his head back and groaned loudly. "Fine," he relented, and stomped off towards our bedroom.

I laughed as I followed him, and helped tuck himself into bed. Reaching down, I kissed him on the forehead. "I'll be back in a bit, okay? Goodnight."

"Goodnight," he said, yawning already.

I smiled. "Love you."

"Love you too," he mumbled, turning over on his side.

I gave him one last peck before going back to the kitchen, sighing as I stood on my tiptoes to open the top-most cupboard. A bottle of red wine greeted me and I gladly pulled it towards me. Jack didn't know I kept alcohol in the house, and to prevent him from accidentally drinking it, I hid it from him in a top cupboard, knowing he couldn't reach it even with a stool.

"Mmm," I moaned in delight, patting the wine bottle to my chest. There was nothing better than settling down with a glass of wine on Friday nights, I thought as I pulled out a fancy glass.

I took my sweet time pouring it out, because although it was torturous, the wine just tasted better after really waiting for it. Sighing, I brought the glass up to my lips and took a delicate sip.

Immediately, my shoulders relaxed, and I felt like I could finally, properly breathe. The tension from all week dissipated with just a single sip, and as I began to take another one, I could tell it was going to be a good night.

"Enjoying that?"

I choke.

Feel the way my blood freezes over.

The way my pulse skyrockets.

The way my heart pounds inside my ears.

Loud and clear.

No, no, no, no.

Shit. Shit.

I forget how to breathe for a moment, and by the time I remember, there's a sound like glass breaking.

I don't realize I've dropped my wine until the sticky, red substance pools out around my feet.

I stare down at it, spreading out on the white tiles like blood. Then there's a pair of big, black shoes stepping right into it.