Goldfish

SEVEN

I had already been awake for several hours, long before Reuben entered the room that morning. A good night's sleep often escaped me, and I had woken early. Rather than turn on the TV to drown out my internal suffering, I lay there in silence, staring out the window, watching the pallet of grey sky stir in the heavens.

"We're going to change things up this morning," he announced, his tone unnervingly cheerful, as though he were about to start some light housekeeping. He approached the bed, a tape measure dangling from his hand. "Thought we'd take some measurements today, see how you're progressing."

He started with my legs, wrapping the tape around my right one. "Good," he muttered, moving to the left. "Very good." The satisfaction in his voice made my skin crawl.

Next, he lifted my arm, pressing close as he measured. For a brief moment, I caught the familiar scent of his aftershave, a scent that once stirred passion but now left only a bitter taste in my mouth. A reminder of how much I despised him.

He moved on to my other arm. "Much bigger than Maisie," he said, his eyes raking over me with a disturbing mix of admiration and lust. "Congratulations, Ellie. You have exceeded those before you."

For a fleeting moment, hope fluttered in my chest. "Does that mean we can stop this now?" I asked, my voice trembling. Part of me was terrified of the answer, afraid that Reuben had more dark secrets left to reveal.

Reuben chuckled darkly. "Ellie, do you think an athlete simply retires after setting a personal best in their first race? No. We keep going. We move forward. Improve. Become better. This is still your journey to greatness."

Reuben was never going to stop, and there was no doubt in my mind now that he would keep feeding me until I took my dying breath. Anger boiled inside me. I wanted to lash out, but I knew it would be to no avail. Alongside my relentless appetite, something new had spawned, a desperate desire to see Reuben suffer. Mentally, I was determined, but physically, I felt powerless. I imagined what I might do if I were able-bodied. How far would I go to survive?

Then I remembered the fork.

Reuben had always been careful, sticking to routines and never putting himself in a compromising position. While tending to my needs, he made sure his phone was never on him, avoiding any chance of dropping it or accidentally leaving it behind. But during one of my earlier outbursts, when I had hurled my plate across the room, the knife and fork had skidded off the table in the chaos. He had picked up the knife and later cleaned up the mess floor. But the fork? It had lodged between the bed frame and mattress, unnoticed and forgotten.

Weeks later, while reaching down to retrieve the TV remote, I found it. At first, it was just a strange discovery, a small spark of excitement in an otherwise monotonous existence. That four-pronged, stainless steel utensil suddenly felt like a treasure. I even joked to myself about naming it, and afforded myself a rare chuckle as the image of Tom Hanks shouting, "WILSON!" came to mind.

I kept the fork hidden, my secret rebellion. It gave me a flicker of power, a piece of contraband in my personal war against Reuben. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought about using it the moment I found it. But to what end?

The idea terrified me. I wasn't a violent person by nature, but Reuben had stripped me of my humanity, leaving me with little choice. But retribution would come at a cost. With no way to contact anyone for help, who would come to save me? Stuck in this bedroom, far from the public, my screams would go unheard. The grim reality gnawed at me: either I let Reuben continue to feed me to death, or I took my revenge and sentenced myself to starvation.

As he leaned in to measure my neck, my left arm dropped behind him, brushing against his waist, a gesture that once might have been intimate. He lingered by the bedside, his voice eerily calm. "I don't think I've ever told you about Malcolm," he said, as though recalling some distant memory. "I used to have this pet goldfish. His name was Malcolm, don't ask me why. I think I just liked the sound of it. Still, he was my first pet, my first taste of responsibility."

He smiled, lost in reminiscence, as if we were having a casual chat. "One day, while feeding him, I accidentally tipped too much food into the tank. But Malcolm didn't mind, he gobbled it up like there was no tomorrow. Every time I passed that tank, he jiggled around, excitedly, anticipating more food. So, I continued to feed him. Over and over, again and again. He just kept eating, never thinking twice."

Reuben's smile grew distant, his eyes clouded with nostalgia. "Malcolm grew and grew, became this mighty fish with a big, bloated belly. But then... he started to struggle. He couldn't swim properly. What I didn't realise was that all the extra food I was giving him had polluted the water, making it toxic. And eventually, it killed him."

He paused, leaning in closer and stroking his fingers through my hair. "When I got my next fish, I learned from my mistakes. I knew I needed better filtration, better balance. And so, the cycle started again. It was never my intention to kill those goldfish, I just wanted to help them grow, to be happy. So I gave them a better environment. Each one taught me something new."

His smile widened, as if he were sharing some profound truth. "Just like now. I'm learning, Ellie. No matter what you think of my methods, I will never stop loving you," he whispered, placing a hand gently on my cheek. He leaned in even closer, pursing his lips as if he were about to kiss me.

In a flash, my right hand struck, faster than I thought possible.

The fork handle jutted from his neck, its prongs buried deep. Blood sprayed across my face as he choked, clutching at the fork to pull it out.

But I was faster. I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him close, refusing to let go. His breath came in ragged gasps, confusion and fear clouding his eyes. He thrashed, one hand desperately clawing at the fork as his life drained away. The scent of his aftershave hung between us, no longer a reminder of love, but of the hatred I now clung to.

His resistance weakened, and I pulled him closer. I held him tight as he collapsed against me, almost submissive, his head resting on my chest. His wide, vacant eyes stared up at me, disbelieving. In that moment, he looked like a lost child.

*****

It was several minutes before I dared let go. His body slumped across me, blood soaking the sheets, turning the bed into a grotesque display. I was covered in it, a living crime scene, marked by our final struggle.

Reuben had sought to create his twisted masterpiece, exploiting my hunger and greed. But in the end, he became the centrepiece of his own dark fantasy. The room, now a horrific tableau, bore witness to his downfall.

Exhaustion set in, the tension draining from me, replaced by a wave of emotion. Tears of pain, joy, and despair streamed down my face. I was free, my tormentor defeated, yet I felt more isolated than ever.

Despite knowing it was futile, I still called out for help. But deep down, I knew no one was coming. Reuben had made sure of that. Now, all I could hope for was some unexpected caller. But Reuben had diverted our mail, so even the lifeline of a passing postman was out of the question. My only chance lay in a misdelivered parcel, someone canvassing, a salesman, someone from the utilities, my doctor... if he cared. But it was all so unlikely. It felt like being trapped in an avalanche of my own making, buried beneath my own flesh. The only thing I could do was wait it out and hope.

Time slowed, each minute stretching into eternity. My appetite, ever-present like a wraith, made itself known again. Desperation gnawed at me as I looked at Reuben's body with a sickening realisation.

You see, eating dog food had taught me one thing: once you get past the smell, you can eat almost anything.

I'm not proud of what I did next, but survival does strange things to people. As I pulled the fork from Reuben's neck, his words echoed in my mind:

"The trouble with you, Ellie, is that you always eat whatever's in front of you."

THE END