I woke up this morning feeling dizzy. I felt sick to my stomach and I was so nauseous I could barely stand. I called for my husband who, to my disadvantage, was not right next to me where he was supposed to be. I loved him. That’s what got me through all of this mess. Yes, it was an arranged marriage, but we had grown fond of each other and that was enough.
I stumbled out of bed and I went to the room next to ours. It was decorated beautifully. The vinyl on the floor was white and the curtains were pink with a matching pink rug that laid flat on the floor in front of the twin bed. There was a big toy box and a closet full of small shirts and dresses. Next to it was a dresser that held pants and skirts. There were books all over the floor from the night before when she couldn’t make a decision on which one to read before bed. I told her I’d read them all until she fell asleep. I picked them all up and put them on the bookshelf that was next to the bay window. I turned around a looked at the bed. There were so many stuffed animals but I could make out the small body of my two-year-old daughter.
I walked out of her room and closed the door gently. Where is my husband? I looked in the bathroom that connected our two rooms, but it was empty. I looked in the walk-in closet that was in the hallway filled with cleaning supplies, blankets, and towels, thinking maybe he was putting the stuff I bought yesterday away. Nothing. I closed the door and the noise downstairs caught my attention. My whole body was sore for some reason. As I forced myself down the stairs, I heard glass break. The front door slammed shut and I hobbled into the kitchen.
The window by the sink was shattered, as was the vase that sat on its sill. I looked around. All the appliances and cups on the counter were knocked over. I was confused. “Chris?” I called out. I heard a grunting noise behind the island. “Chris, is that you?” I walked toward the noise and gasped. I looked at my husband on the floor, he was gripping a knife that was stabbed in his chest and I could see that he was already jabbed in the neck as the blood gushed out. I ran to the phone and called 911 screaming for someone to come help the love of my life and he gasped for air. The ambulance came, but by the time we got to the hospital, it was too late. He was gone. Forever.
The police want to do an investigation and listed the house as a crime scene. I took my daughter to a hotel and sobbed as I laid in the bed holding her close to me. She was all I had left. My precious child, who would grow up without a loving father. The tears just kept flowing and I started to feel very empty. I don’t know who did this, but they’d regret it.
When you’re not reading books, read our newsletter.