Seven Sins Committed

5. Pride

Locks of hair caked with dried blood slipped through my fingers, the warm, cooked stench of human flesh assaulted my nose. Chipped teeth bared at me, the lips stripped off. Her black eye sockets stared at me, and I imagined the accusatory glare. Face damaged beyond repair, I grappled at memory fragments, trying to piece together her button nose and pencil eyebrows. Salty water dripped off my chin, spattered her squashed complexion like a bowl of mashed potatoes.

The storm pounded on the window, demanding entry, wanting to soak the destroyed furniture and clean the embroidery rug of my sin. Lightening illuminated my outline, spilling grotesque shadows on the wood. Thunder rolled across the black clouds, like the angels played a series of drums. Whispering love on dead ears, I combed Violetta's hair clinging loosely to her deflated and shattered skull. Lips brushing her forehead, I kissed her, traveling down the cartilage of her nose. Mini rivers of guilt streamed my face.

I cradled her limp form sunken in my arms, until the storm subsided, and twilight filtered through the window. Apologies left my tongue in murmurs, hands brisk as I stroked her head. She replied scornfully, chiding the hideous disfigurement of my soul. I accepted her berating without complaint, head bowed, shame-faced. Embracing her one last time, I rested her, hands folded over her breasts on the couch.

Stepping back, admiring my work, Violetta appeared merely resting. A forced smile curved her lips, I imagined her basking in summer light, lazing underneath the apple tree in our backyard. Scrubbing my dirty face using my shirt, I turned my attention directed at the piece of yarn she had knitted. Holding the scrap, I flopped it over, making out the crude shape of a bonnet. Eyes narrowed, I frowned, and glanced over at my deceased wife. Grimly, I tucked the white bonnet inside my pant's pocket.

Dried logs stacked in rows structured a massive pire. I held the match, the flame flickering on my melancholy face. The match fed the wood, crackling as flames gorged on frayed rug strings and table cloth. I silently departed from the living room, exiting the house. I listened intently, wondering if the growing fire reached lace decorating Violetta's night gown.

My mare contentedly grazed, raising her head to watch my approach. Snorting, she strode forward, shaking water from her knotted mane. She allowed me to pat her nose, rub her neck and climb onto her back. Muscles rippled underneath me as she flinched under the shower. Clicking my teeth, I snapped the reigns. She leaped automatically into a gallop, flying over the garden fence.

Her hooves collided against the earth when I gasped, an erupt stab of pain struck deep in my heart. I clawed at my shirt, panting, eyes bugging. Feeling sliced at my limbs, nerves tingling, and I couldn't sense touch from them any longer. Quickly as it arrived, the connection faded. I moved my arms; the mare paused, slowing to a steady walk. My shirt shred, leaving jagged lines before I hacked on air.

Adrienne once explained the connection thread between our bodies, the pain of harm was strung like cords between us. I dug my heels into the mare, spurring her forward. I leaned forward, my concern for the duchess great. Something very bad happened, sinister, dark emotions stirred the angry beast. The same that murdered Violetta.

Rain pelted my cheeks, stinging like thousands of hornets. I furiously blinked water off my lashes, spat wet clumps of hair stuck in my mouth. The mare's hooves thrust the dirt, spraying brown water. She stumbled as she plowed a churning river flowing over the road. I patted her neck, hurrying her as she regained her footing. Mane whipping in my face, I rode hard, blood soaking the insides of my pants. I grunted, my chafed skin growing worse.

Rutted dirt changed to cobblestone, the mare's hooves clopped loudly, sending bolts through its body. Cathedral windows flashed under the white lightning, steep roof eaves dripping streams of water. Black painted the colored glass, double oak doors wide open, hanging off their hinges. The monster stirred, awakening at the sharp metallic tang of blood.