Isn’t it Ironic…

You are currently reading from the Prompt #2 Series.

The blood coated pen was difficult to grip in my hand as I attempted to position myself over Devin’s writhing body.  I could see his eyes moving from side to side – looking for a plan of attack, salvation, or some combination of the two…but none would come.

A crimson pool had begun to form beneath him and I couldn’t help but smile at the irony of it all…

***

The first time I woke up in Devin’s father’s basement was a year prior to our wedding day.  Devin had gotten mythologically drunk the night before and broken one of my ribs.  Obviously not wanting to answer the many questions an emergency room clipboard tends to ask, Devin drove through the night to avoid such an uncomfortable and incriminating confrontation.

When I opened my eyes the following morning, I found myself in Devin’s arms – he had slept with me through the night.  If it didn’t hurt so badly as I inhaled and exhaled, I almost would have forgotten he was the reason we were here.  I tried to be cold at first, sneering at his scripted apology.

“Lauren, you know I don’t want to hurt you.  It’s just that…I just can’t control myself sometimes.  I can’t stand the thought of losing you.”

Devin’s rage was prompted when he stumbled through our apartment door with his band of merry man close behind.  I was sitting on the couch, watching Say Yes to the Dress: Atlanta.  It had been a year since I had spoken to my mother, but I know she had never missed an episode and tuning in somehow made me think I could feel her…if only for a half hour.

Andrew, one of Devin’s drinking buddies, plopped down on the couch next to me and stared at the TV.  “Damn,” he sighed, witnessing one of the bride’s come out in a less than classy dress, “it’s a wedding not Vegas!”

I laughed at his joke…and woke up in a basement.

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