I should apologize for last week; I was genuinely in a rush and didn’t know when I would be able to give you an update so the brief breakdown was all I could provide at the time. But now I have a moment to breathe and I can catch you up on…well, everything.
To start with, I went out for drinks with Heather last Friday (or, I guess two weeks ago). My instincts were correct: she wanted to quit. I tried to talk her out of it, I really did, but she told me she would be sending in her resignation the following Monday. She gave no explanation beyond “It’s time for a change.” When she told me, I was upset. I was more than upset. I can’t quite describe the clench in my heart that made me numb on my drive home. Heather has been a constant in my life for so any years I can’t imagine what life at work would be like without her. I’d be stuck with Lydia and that is just unacceptable. Also for other, sentimental reasons which involve me feeling emotions I can’t quite describe.
Come Sunday, I was practically pacing a hole through the living room, dying to find a way to keep. Heather from leaving. Finally, I drove the half hour to her house and knocked on the door at 10pm. Surprisingly, she opened the door immediately but there was something off about her. She seemed quiet and all together rushed. I would find out later why. When she answered the door, she assured me her decision was not hasty but she would discuss it with me on Monday morning. Lo and behold, Monday morning came and Heather wasn’t at work but no email came in all day. I wanted to give her time to realise what a mistake she was making. Tuesday also came and went with no word from Heather so after work last week, I went to check on her.
I found her at home, covered in a pool of her ex-husband’s blood on her living room floor. I have never been so proud and so horrified for Heather as I have in that moment. That moment where she looked up from her crumpled position in the corner, tears staining her cheeks, eyes puffy from lack of sleep. I don’t think she’d closed her eyes since Sunday night.
Her ex-husband came back into her life a few weeks ago and was decidedly unhappy with newly found independence. His hold on her was stronger than I’ve ever seen and now he’s dead.
Like I said: proud and horrified.
She said she had to. She kept repeating that over and over again. While I cleaned up her mess, while I washed the blood off her walls, while I dragged her into the car while I grabbed my shovel. After all that, she was completely numb. I think her husband attacked her – beat her. I still don’t know how to help her. She’s been staying with me for the past week with no objection from the others. I haven’t forced her to go back to work or talk about what’s happened but it’s been a quiet, somber week in the house.
I can’t believe it’s come to this. There are three killers in my house and I’m comforting both of them.
Heather killed someone.
I don’t mean to gloss over it but I’m still coming to terms with it.
That’s been happening a lot lately. First Jason, then Heather. My worlds are colliding. I don’t like it. This is what I always wanted but not this way.
Definitely not this way.
I must attend to the numb zombies in my living room.
As always, dear readers,