My fingers wrap around the stone in my pocket, your sticky blood still warm to the touch.
I was going to throw it in the lake, alongside your bound and weighted body, but I kept it instead. A reminder of the day I finally found the courage to do what I’d wanted to do for many years.
I’m thinking of putting it on the mantelpiece, alongside that hideous clock your mother gave us as a wedding present. Like our marriage, it never worked.
They’ll be a constant reminder to me of the two women I hated most in this world.
Mike Jackson
