supernova

1.

She dug her nails into the side of her mahogany vanity, chipping her carefully painted red manicure.

She could feel it coming. The rising panic, her thoughts fragmenting inside her mind as her transparent eyes misted over with involuntary tears.

Lifting her head, she observed her ghastly reflection in the polished silver mirror. She rapidly shut her eyes, as the room blurred around her.

***

She gently opened her eyes to the golden sun and gazed at the clouds, a brilliant white against the blue sky.

She could still hear her shallow breaths, but she carefully composed herself with a chilling poise.

The gentle crackle from the baby monitor urged her to move. The clock on her bedside table neared 4pm, he would be home soon.

She slid her shaking hands under the mattress, reaching for a yellow envelope. Reaching inside, she glanced at two passports and a wad of cash.

Shoving the envelope in her purse, she rapidly exited the room. Walking into the room adjacent to her, she was met with the sight of her small daughter resting peacefully.

Her heart filled with a gentle envy, wishing the same nativity that allowed her daughter to sleep carefree, could consume her.

Instead, she was consumed with a bitter nostalgia. Nostalgia for the woman she used to be; strong, innocent and unassuming. The woman she was before him.

Her head was a whirlwind, but she had to keep it together for the precious child that lay before her.

This baby was the only part of herself that she didn't despise. This baby was the reason she had to go.

She carefully lifted the girl onto her right hip, balancing a faded blue bag on her left hip, that contained the entirety of their belongings.

She exited the nursery, and after taking one last look at the house filled with bitter memories, she walked through the front door.

Before she could change her mind, she marched towards the rusted white 4-door truck in her driveway.

It was his truck. Jackson's truck. She knew she was forbidden to drive it, but regardless, she strapped her sleeping daughter into the baby capsule already installed in the back seat.

She quickly raced around to the drivers seat, placed her seatbelt on with shaking hands, and cautiously reversed down the driveway.

As she drove down the suburban streets of her neighbourhood, towards the freeway, she imagined Jackson's reaction when he returned home.

He would barge through the front door, demanding to know when dinner was ready whilst simultaneously complaining about his day at work. He would angrily pour a glass of scotch, and before long he would become aware of his wife and child's absence.

He would search the house in a fuming rage, smashing his glass of scotch on the bedroom floor and punching the dry wall in his child's nursery.

And he would search for them. She was sure of this.