monotone

ALone in the house I looked out the window and saw the moon gleaming in the dark night sky. The top of it barely surpases the large pine trees that welcome you into the pitch black forest. I walk back to the couch and let my head rest in my palms. Its been four hours since I last got a call. The doctors told me to go home. It felt as though i was being held captive by my thoughts in that waiting room. Like if I left, it would be my fault if the worst happened. Reassuring me that my husband was stable did nothing to ease the pain. Only awful thoughts ran through my head before I fell asleep. I was awoken by the loud ringing of my phone. “Hello?” “Is this Mrs. Hansen?” asks a monotone voice “This is she” “The bleeding stopped and the bullet was removed from your husbands heart. He's going to be okay” Says the same voice, with no emotion or emphasis. “Thank you” I say with a breath of relief, ending the call. I lay back down on the couch and tears of joy stream out my eyes. I fell asleep for the second time that night, but now with a smile on my face. I woke up to the my doorbell that morning, when i hear the truck engine drive away I get up and open the door seeing that a bouquet of flowers was placed on the doormat. I pick them up and read the card that states, “My kind regards - Staff at Seattle Memorial Hospital” “Well that’s.. odd.” I thought to myself as I closed the door and placed the flowers on the kitchen counter. Visiting hours at the hospital start soon so I get ready and rush out the door. Once i reached the front desk I ask for my husbands room number, hoping he was stable enough for me to see him. “Miss, your husband was released last this morning.” said the same monotone voice. “Remarkable” The receptionist gets up and walks away. At the point I head home with an eerie feeling lingering within me. When I walk through the door, I’m greeted with my husband sitting on the couch. I run inside and instantly fall into his arms. “I’m so glad you’re okay” I state before he’s interrupted by my phone ringing. “Sorry” I say to him as I pick up the call. “Are you Mrs. Hansen” asks a voice way different from the one i’m used to hearing on the other line. “Yeah?” “I'm sorry. You’re husband didn’t make it. The bullet-” “Is this some sort of sick joke? He's right-” I turn around and realize he's no longer sitting on the couch. I slowly turn back. Now alone in the house, I look out the window and see the man I used to love. Now, with his eyes rolled back into his head, blood coming from his heart, and evil in his smile.

​Ivy