Flash Fiction #2 Reminiscent Regrets

Forgetful

Written by violettaekook

The rain hammered down. The pelts caused his hair to mat and clothes to stick to the rigid outlines of his body. He gripped his shovel harder, not wanting it to slip from his hands. He shoveled the dirt -now mud- into the hole he had been filling, smoothing it out. He set his shovel down on a nearby tree wiping his forehead of rainwater.

He turned back towards his house, not wanting to catch a cold for staying out so long. He followed his tracks back. Earlier that day the dirt ground held only small ridges from the bottom of his shoes. But now, in the heavy rainfall, those small ridges became large indents in the mushy mud. He entered the house, the warmth immediately greeting his body. Curling around him and comforting his cold wet frame.

He grabbed a tea kettle filling it with water, before setting it on the stove. In the process of searching for his tea leaves, he was then met with the multiple sugars and other artificial sweeteners his lover had proclaimed they needed. Smiling at the fond memory of their excitement when he purchased what he deemed to be a useless waste. But he wouldn't tell them that. Once he located the tea leaves he headed off to his room. The stairs had been covered in a dark reddish-brownish color. He had probably tracked something in earlier but he couldn't seem to recall coming in at all. Once he made it to the top of the stairs he also noticed how disheveled the hallway was. A vase tipped over, pictures that should have been hung up on the wall were scattered across the floor. He decided to deal with it later. After all, he was still stuck in those wet clothes, he'd just bring it up with his lover once he'd finish.

He headed to the bathroom which thankfully, was perfectly fine. He started the bath waiting for it to warm. And as he waited his mind shifted to wondering where his lover might be. It was starting to get pretty late. Even though he had no idea what time it was, he was used to them being home around this time. Their eyes were usually droopy with tiredness from work, the small tired smile that graced their face once they saw him. The long hug they would give seemingly trying to go to sleep in his arms right in the middle of the living room. Them begging him to make them that sweet caffeinated relief that supposedly was an energy booster but never really did much. But he was used to it all speeding his bath as he prepared to greet them but once he was out there was nothing. No sounds of the door opening or little footsteps coming up.

Just pure silence.

It was unusual and unnerving but he decided again not to dwell on it. He headed to his room that was connected to the bathroom. Immediately being met with cold air. His eyes darted towards the intrusion in which the cold air flowed. Being met with the broken glass pane that he couldn't remember ever being broken. He walked towards the window, careful of the little small pieces of glass that had found its way across the room.

He walked closer, the cold becoming more intense and tiny splatters of rain reaching his bare skin. He wondered when his lover was coming home. They were a lot better at handy work than him. And that's when he saw it. The same reddish/brown color he had seen smudged on the stairs all in one big puddle against his floor and wall near his window.

And as he looked at the broken glass still in the pane he knew his lover wasn't coming home.

He frowned at the glass stepping back from the puddle and glass. How could he forget the intense argument they had that morning? The argument in which his anger slowly increased as his lover had spat vile words at him that he deep down knew they didn't mean.

And he regretted it. He regretted it more than anything he had done due to anger so far. He had loved them with everything in him. He'd do just about anything to protect them. But in the end, it was by his own hands that had ended the life of the one he loved so much. He knew he should have taken those management classes when his lover had offered. Try and fix himself in the slightest. But it was too late now. He had ruined it all.

He felt terrible as he moved away from the mess, a small part of his brain trying to convince him it wasn't entirely his fault. He just had really bad anger issues. One that got out of hand quickly, one that made him behave quite irrationally at that. He began to put on clothes no longer wanting to be bare, sulking as he did so. He'd have to clean all the glass and blood by himself. And order a replacement for the window too.

And make that patched-up mud outside look a lot less obvious...