Karma and Beer Bottles

I stumbled back, my drunken haze obstructing thought. My mind whirled, trying to make sense of the gruesomeness in front of me. 
“Katie… Katie… please wake up…”
My voice sounded so pathetic to me. The remainder of the broken bottle, the parts that I hadn’t managed to lodge in her neck, fell to the ground and shattered. The sound broke through my haze and brought me to at least a semblance of awareness. 
“No, no, no, NO! Katie, I didn’t mean to, Katie, please, I’m so sorry!” 
No amount of begging would staunch the red stream that flowed across the floor. There is a point, once the crimson lake reaches a certain size, that you would do better to start calling the funeral home instead of 911. I sobbed like the piece of shit I am, then curled up on the floor next to the body, rubbing snot, blood and liquor off my face. 
I woke up with a splitting headache. I desperately wished that everything I barely remembered happening was just a dream. I opened my eyes to Katie’s face, still in an accusing and betrayed expression. I pushed my hungover ass off the floor and got to work. What work? Making sure I don’t spend the rest of my life in a jail, of course. Started by cleaning up what I told myself was Kool-Aid on the floor. Easy enough. Never realized the manipulative bitch had so much blood in her. No wonder she probably died choking on it after I accidentally stabbed her. 
Tried pulling out the glass stuck in her. Blood sprayed my face like in those videos of kids mixing mentos and coke together. Out came the piece of cloth again. I tied the now red cloth round the wound to prevent further bleeding. Next was Katie herself. Classic procedure, you would think. Stuff the body in a bag. Funny how all those stories never take into account rigor mortis, eh? Took me well over an hour getting her in a suitable bag. The rest played out like a typical crime-in-action scene in movies. Dumped her in a ditch in the woods nearby along with the cloth and glass pieces and came back home. Murder, accidental or intentional, sure took a toll on your body as well.
Woke up with the typical fatigue of a Monday morning. Can’t really laze around if I gotta make a living. Katie was pronounced dead or missing. No one had seen her come round to my place, so that sure was a stroke of luck. Now that she’s gone, I’ve realized how much I was being controlled by her. She used to watch my every move, check my phone every day, all the over-possessive girlfriend kinda things. With her gone, I’m free as a bird. 
I walk into my workplace. The sound of typing surrounds me. Some stick their head out of their cubicles and greet me. “Hey, Justin, looks like you are in great spirits today?” The voice of my boss rings out. “Yeah, it’s kinda rare for a Monday morning!” I replied. Then I settled down for work. The dull monotony occupied my mind. Soon, it was quite dark outside. Time to go. Stood up and stretched. Stifling a yawn, I slowly walked towards the cooler in the corner. Grabbed a beer to dull my thoughts. I was the last to leave today; the building seemed deserted. Called the rickety elevator up. The doors opened slowly. I got in and pressed the button for the ground floor. It started its slow descent. Stopped suddenly. And then it plummeted down. 
When I came to, I was lying in a puddle of my sweat, blood, and the beer. Trying to ignore the painful retorts from every inch of my body, I looked around. The beer bottle had broken in the fall. It lay there on the floor, broken into a dozen sharp shards. I told myself to calm down. Then started jabbing at the emergency button on the elevator. The button broke in my hands. There’s no one else in the building. My claustrophobia began rising. My dehydrated mouth wasn’t helping things. 
One hour in. 
Seems like I’ve broken a couple ribs. The pain is getting unbearable. My mouth is dry. There’s beer all over the floor. “Tantalus.” The thought keeps ringing in my mind. 
Two hours in. 
I’ve started losing control a bit. I have curled up in a corner of the small elevator. My mouth is as dry as parchment. Every movement hurts. My phone refuses to turn on. Shit has truly hit the fan. 
Three hours in. 
I’ve started licking the elevator floor to get whatever liquids on it into my mouth. It just makes it worse. I keep on seeing a shadow in the corner of my eyes. Hallucinations, typical of dehydration. Death will be slow. I’m feeling heavy in the head, like I’m drunk. I’m closing my eyes. 
Four hours in. 
I’ve given up on hope. I see the sharp shard of the bottle lie in front of me. Everything clicks into place. It’s Katie all over again. The possessive bitch found a way to get me back. It is either this or drying out like a raisin. I grab the shard with my hand. Sharp enough. Cruel parallels between both events. Fate sure had a twisted sense of humor, eh? I pierce my neck with the shard. Feel the blood flow into my mouth and lungs. It tastes metallic, acrid. I can’t breathe. My vision fades and I start to twitch. 
Typical Karma.
Category:Mental Illness