The KILLER (1)

THOMAS

The sun shone directly in my eyes. I forgot to shut the drapes the night before. I rubbed my eyes, still groggy.

"Hill-" I realized she wasn't here as soon as I started to speak.

She was angry at me ever since that day, not that I could blame her, but I apologized. A lot. Not that apologies could ever make up for it. That's the thing. I didn't know how-to, and even if I ever could.

I got up and splashed some water on my face and went to the living room. It was a mess. Hillary would be mad, especially since she didn't even approve of the party. I started cleaning fast. I started with picking up the plastic cups which were all around the room. And then I began cleaning the rest, with the T.V switched on. I was done in about an hour but Hillary still hadn't come out which was unusual because she was always up before me, puttering around in the kitchen and the living room. I sat down and took out the paper. I flipped the pages subconsciously.

It was 11 am. Even if it was a Sunday this was still unusual. I walked to her room and swung open the door. She was on the bed, limp and colourless.

Was she sick?

"Hillary?"

No reply.

"Hillary?"

"Hill?"

I walked over to her and shook her. She couldn't be joking around. She was mad at me. I felt her neck. It was cold, really cold.

"Hillary?"

I shook her harder. No no no. This could not be happening. What was happening? No.

"HILLARY?!"

I checked her pulse and my suspicions were confirmed.

"HILLARY?!"

What? What happened? She was fine. She was fine yesterday. She had a headache but she was fine. It was just a headache.

I rushed to the living room and called 911. She couldn't have-

She couldn't. I was breathless. I walked around the living room. Round and round.

There was a knock on the door and two people walked in. I lead them to the room and they checked her pulse and her temperature.

"Mr Richardson, would you mind waiting outside for a while?"

I nodded and walked out. I could hear hushed whispers as I tapped my feet anxiously on the floor.

"Mr Richardson?" His voice was slow and painful. "I'm afraid she has passed"

I was expecting this but I could no longer stand. I leaned back against the wall and gasped. Hillary. She was no more? I wouldn't hear her voice ever again? No. I couldn't process this. But how? And- and why?

"Mrs Richardson seemed to have died due to a sudden cause. It wasn't natural, I presume, but we will have to look into it and get back to you. Take care. We are sorry for your loss"

WHAT?! Not natural? Were they saying she was killed? Or she committed suicide? NO. She wouldn't have. She couldn't have. There was no way. But what happened? I didn't say anything. I nodded and watched them leave with her.

I sat down in the living room. My whole life.....was gone. Wasn't it? I couldn't even try to imagine what I would do now. What just happened? What actually just happened? How could she have just died? How was that even possible? She didn't die. She was still alive. She was yesterday. She was still with me. Why are they saying she's dead. She isn't. But she is. She is. How? How is she not here? My throat had a huge lump in it. My head was pounding and I was sweating. What should I do now? Who should I go to?

I needed to inform her family. Janice. She'd know what would have happened. I dialled her number. It stopped ringing after the 7th time.

"Hello? Thomas?"

"Janice! I didn't.....uh. I don't know what- I can't "

"Thomas? What happened?"

"I- It's Hillary"

"What happened?"

"She-she...they said she passed. They said she....she died"

"Is this a joke? What do you mean she died?"

"Janice, I- I tried to wake her up, and she wasn't waking up... and I was worried. I- I called 911 and they confirmed it... I didn't- I don't know what to do. And they are saying it wasn't na-"

There was a beep. The call was cut.

I sat down again and buried my face in my hands and burst into tears. My throat was burning but I couldn't stop.

I sat like that for an hour until there was another knock on the door.

"Janice?"

I wiped my eyes and gestured her in. She looked scared and confused.

"Where's Hillary?" She walked in fast, looking around as if she was looking for her.

"Wha- What?"

"Where is she?"

"They took her to-to run some tests. They are.... are saying it wasn't a natural death and I- I don't know what to do"

She sat down.

"I- what?"

I didn't say anything. I sat there wiping my eyes as more tears flowed down my face.

"What do they mean not a-a natural death?"

"I don't know... uhh. even- even I don't understand"

"Are they saying it was suicide? How did she die?"

"I- I don't know. The tests will come in soon"

She wasn't crying, she looked confused. As if she still didn't believe me. Her brows were knit together and she was deep in thought.

"Do you think- do you think we should inform the police?"

"I don't know...I...I don't know. Maybe we should wait till the results come in"

"It had to have been a natural death, but Hillary was never sick."

"She- she was complaining about a headache last night but I didn't- I didn't think it - that it was serious"

I burst into tears again. Would she still be here if I realized the headache was serious? But how would I? It was just a headache.

It could have been a symptom of anything or even just a headache. God. I didn't even know what to think about. She was gone. My wife was dead. It felt unreal. Like a horrible nightmare, I wanted to wake up from.

Hillary was gone. Gone. I would never see her laugh at my lame jokes again, I would never see her smirk when I looked her way thinking she wasn't looking, I would never hear her yell at me, which showed she still cared....and I never realized that before, I would never hear her voice again, I could never kiss her again, I- I would never even be able to make it up to her. God.

I cried again for what felt like hours, and this time, Janice cried with me.