by S.C. Kleinhans

Created on: January 22, 2012

Sheila held the bloody mitten in one hand and its nearly immaculate mate in her other one. Sheila’s mind was still wandering back and forth. She was feeling very unsettled. So she just followed her soul. Not caring where it would take her. She looked at the mittens. They had been hers when she was a very young girl. Last month, Becky had finally inherited them. She adored those beautiful pink and yellow mittens. Sheila’s beloved daughter had died only a week ago.

She had gone nearly insane due to the unexpected loss of her only child. She kept clinging to the fuzzy memories of their last weeks together. The look of utter excitement as Becky gingerly pulled each mitten onto her tiny hands. She giggled and smiled every time she wore them. Then carelessness set in. Just for a moment. Becky had been distracted by Rob’s dreadful dog. The old mutt was outside. Howling at nothing. Becky was nearly ready for preschool but she couldn’t find the left mitten. Sheila finally coaxed her into wearing her grey gloves. Becky cried all the way to school.

The little girl had become increasingly distraught ever since she’d lost that mitten. Mother and daughter had searched everywhere. Sheila had tried to comfort her but Becky had become more and more inconsolable. Sheila even bought a similar pair of mittens but the child refused to wear them. Becky did show her gratitude for them but she just couldn’t bear to put them on. As if she would have been betraying the memory of her all time favorite pair. The pink and yellow mittens. They’d belonged not only to Becky but to her mother as well.

Sheila was lost in her own dreary little world. She hadn’t even noticed that her husband had entered the room. Rob walked over to his wife. She stalked away. She couldn’t stand the sight of him. He had always hated Becky. He treated his old mutt better than he’d ever treated Becky. Rob had suspected that Becky wasn’t his biological daughter but that was a completely insane idea. Sheila had been a faithful wife even if she had always been a rather distant one. Becky was a carbon copy of Rob. Sheila let her thoughts of hatred fall to the ground. Rob followed her into the kitchen and he spun her around.

“I really need to talk to you.”

“I’m not in the mood to talk to anyone.”

“You need professional help. Grief therapy or something...”

“Please leave me alone. Just go away like you usually

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