Wherever You Are

Twelve: Memories Can Kill

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"Do you need any help?" I asked, as I wandered into our small kitchen where Jack stood near a counter preparing dinner. I was never the best cook, hence why he cooked the meals, but I did always ask if he needed any help. I didn't like leaving him to do everything.

Laughing, Jack turned around from searing two single sirloin steaks on his frying pan and gave me a lopsided grin. "Honey, I don't want to be rude or anything, but you know how terrible of a cook you are," he laughed once more, turning back around to flip the steaks as I giggled.

"I know, I know," I whispered, coming over to him and wrapping my arms up from behind him to lean into his back. The soft gray button-up sweater he wore felt nice against my cheeks as I closed my eyes. "I just feel bad that you make all the meals while I just sit and wait like you're my servant."

"Charlotte I promise it's okay, I don't mind making meals," he told, turning around once more to face me again while I let go of him. "but if you're dying to help, you could cut up some asparagus for me. I think you could handle that, right?" he mocked, sending me to nudge him in the side while we both smiled.

"I'm not bad with everything involving cooking you doof," I giggled again, walking over to the tall white refrigerator and opening it up to grab out the bundle of green asparagus. "I can cut things up, just putting them all together is the hard part," I said defensively, though I knew Jack was kidding with what he had said; even if I was terribly hopeless with preparing anything...

"Alright, alright," he laughed, coming over to show me what he wanted done with them. "Just chop them into three pieces, okay?" he asked, making sure I understood the directions before handing me the slim knife. Nodding, they seemed pretty clear to me and told him I had it under control. "If you say so..." he joked again, before going back to preparing the steaks. We never usually ate meals such as the one we were having that night, but Jack had just gotten paid at his job down at the museum and that was enough for him to buy something nice for once.

I sliced into the first asparagus, splitting it into two before I chopped it once more for three even pieces. That was easy enough. I thought to myself, grabbing a handful to chop together. I presumed the reason why I wasn't so good with cooking was because growing up I never needed to. We had maids and chefs at our service 24/7 to do every chore and task, there was no need to learn my mother used to say. When I met Jack everything changed, though, I discovered another side of the world that I was sheltered from completely and learned so much more...

Slice. I heard, while I pushed down onto the knife to cut the asparagus bunch. Everything became a dizzy blur, then, as I looked down to where I was cutting to see a pool of blood covering the greens. Oh God. I thought to myself, dropping the knife onto the white kitchen counter and holding up my left hand as blood dripped from my fingers. I hadn't realized where I was cutting in the moment, which was a major mistake...

"Jack," I shakily said, trying to keep my balance standing as the stinging pain started kicking in.

"Yeah, what is it?" he questioned, not turning around like he had been before, but keeping an eye on our dinner before him.

"I'm sorry, I don't know how I screwed this up," I whispered, glancing back down at the three gashed fingers on my left hand. The knife mark was very clearly made gliding from my index all the way down to my ring finger in one single line. The blood was significant, though, barely showing any gash at all anymore as it seeped onto every part of my hand.