It Figures

C-O-R-O-N-E-R

It says so on the man's dark blue jacket. I don't know why he's here or why there are people I never met roaming about my house. I want to tell them to leave, but nothing is coming out of my mouth, not even the tiniest of sounds. Come on say something! Like I've ever been short of sarcastic comments.

"She's dead." C-O-R-O-N-E-R speaks. "No one could survive this kind of accident."

Gee, I'm accidentally dead. Well, there's a first time for everything.

The pain I felt in my chest when I fell is gone, replaced by something thin and silver with blood drying on the edge. It looks strangely like my bread knife, but I know that was tucked safely in a drawer. I'm very cautious about things like that. I always have images of running into the kitchen and stabbing myself with a knife I've carelessly left sticking out of a drawer. Now here I am with it stuck into my back and I can see the blade coming out of my chest. I just cannot remember how I got out of the bathtub and down into the kitchen to stab myself in the back. I'm wet, very wet.

"Looks like the floor gave away." I hear C-O-R-O-N-E-R say. "Whole tub fell through the floor."

I am so haunting my landlord. The cheap little twerp probably used plywood.

I'm waiting for the explanation of how my bread knife got into my back. How will he explain that? Come on someone, ask him. Idiots.

"How do you suppose the knife got in her back?" Finally a sensible question.

"There's a large crack in the tub." C-O-R-O-N-E-R says. "Must have come through there when the tub fell."

That does not explain how my knife got on the floor of the kitchen and standing straight up at that!

"The autopsy will tell us more."

You think? God, you're an idiot. Oh here they come with a nice body bag for me. I look good in black. Lift me gently guys, I'm not a rag doll even if I am dead. Oops, there goes the knife.

"There's another victim." I hear someone say. "He must have been the one holding the knife."

Obviously, considering he's got a death grip on the damn thing. I'm starting to feel a bit stiff and cold. Someone throw a towel or something over me. Geez, you people have no sense of humility. Watch where you are touching me, buster. Here comes the other bag for... What was he doing in my house anyway? Baking bread?

Don't zip me up yet, I want to get a good look at this joker. Hey, he's kinda cute in a dead sort of way.

Learn more about this author, Roxan Finnell.
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