Prompt: Jayme’s week is normal, just like every week. Or is it?
When Jayme woke up she could feel it. His eyes on her, piercing her to the dirty stained sheets. He was sitting in his favorite spot in the room, the dark brown leather chair in the corner.
She ignored him like she had every morning for nearly a decade, ever since their parents had died and she’d been left in his care. She walked right by him to get her clothes and back by him to head the shower. He didn’t speak but then again he never did in the morning. He was always quiet and watchful.
After her shower she stopped next to him again and dropped a kiss to his forehead. “I’m sorry,” she apologized.
He didn’t respond. After the night before she didn’t expect him to.
The routine repeated every morning for a week, just as it always had even before the argument. But things were different and with the heat soaring more and more ever day she knew she’d have to make a change to her routine.
She researched and she planned then she realized there was only one thing she could really do. Her normal life was already shattered so she may as well accept the consequences.
So she sat on the foot of her bed and stared at him while she made the call. She had all the lights on for the first time in a week and made herself take in the details. The film in his eyes. The nearly black stain on his gray shirt. The smell that she’d been trying to ignore.
“911, what’s your emergency?”
Jayme took a deep breath before she responded. “My brother is dead. And before you try to tell me how to revive him, I can’t. I know I can’t. I killed him myself. Last Sunday.”