I know, I missed another day of blogging… hush.
I’m here now, though, and I’ve got a big, long update to finish out “It’s about time she died anyway”!!!
If you’re new to this story and have no idea what I’m talking about, read this first, and then this, and then come back here to read the rest!
So, here goes… “It’s about time she died anyway…”, part 3!!!
Jerry turned in place to face her more directly, his hands still clutching the shovel by his waist.
“Di,” he started. “How many glasses of wine did you have tonight?”
“Shut up!” Diana screeched. “I don’t drink anymore and you know it!”
Jerry paused for a moment.
“Well,” he eventually began. “What’s got you so worked up, then, huh?”
Diana took a deep breath as another piece of her memory sunk in.
“Another one, Di?”
She stumbled into the bedroom and glanced up at Jerry, who stood near the baseball-sized hole in the paint-chipped blue wall across the way with a beer bottle in his fist.
“No, I…” Diana replied. “I… I don’t… I don’t drink anymore, remember?”
“Oh, right…” Jerry elongated his sentence and took a sip of his drink. “So, what’s wrong now?”
“It’s… It’s Ethan…” she answered. “He… He won’t listen to me…”
“He never does,” Jerry commented, raising his eyebrows at her.
“He… I… I gotta show him…” Diana went on. “I… have to…”
“Teach him a lesson,” Jerry finished for her, now stepping up to the side of the short, wooden nightstand by the bed.
“Here…” he continued, now setting his beer down to pick up a small, silver revolver.
“Ethan…” Diana mumbled.
“Don’t talk about our so-” Jerry started, but she quickly cut him off once more.
“I know it was you, Jerry. You did it.”
She pulled the trigger once more.
And then her smile faded into a choking cough.
“Oh,” she sputtered out. “Oh, God!”
The gun had spat out a bullet at the glass vase on the shelf behind Ethan’s head.
Diana threw the gun down on the table and jumped up from her chair.
“A-Are you o-okay, Ethan?” she urged, now rushing over to his side as he sat, speechless.
“I’m… f-fine,” he slowly managed out.
“God damn it…” Jerry’s voice grumbled from behind her.
She proceeded to crouch down and sweep Ethan into a tight hug over her shoulder.
Just then, though, Jerry stepped forward and grabbed her by the upper arm. He yanked her back and threw her to the ground, forcing her head to collide with the tile floor below.
“Oh,” she groaned out and rolled onto her side.
At the same time, though, she heard a loud bang, a young man’s scream, and, after that, an even louder bang, followed by a deafening silence.
Her head throbbed as she felt the back of it gently.
She closed her eyes and moaned in pain, again.
“You killed Ethan. You killed our son,” Diana declared.
“No, I didn’t,” Jerry held his ground and shook his head. “You got drunk, Di. You got drunk, and then you… you sh… you shot him!”
“What… What happened?” she asked, sitting up and rubbing the stabbing sensation in the back of her head.
Jerry sat on the edge of the bed in front of her and shook his head, tears forming in his eyes.
“You…” he began. “You, Di… You… You…”
He looked away from her and let out a soft sob.
“Where’s Ethan?” Diana questioned.
Jerry stopped and twisted back to her, his eyes bloodshot red and his eyebrows narrowed.
“You,” he repeated. “You killed him!“
“I didn’t do it, Jerry,” Diana protested, her hands still holding the gun straight out from her shoulders. “I remembered… it was you.” She shook her head slowly. “It was always you…”
Jerry took a step towards her, his shovel dragging against the ground behind him.
“And how do you know that?” he pressed.
Diana took a step backwards.
“I saw you do it,” she answered.
Jerry took an even wider step into her direction.
“No, you didn’t,” he countered. “You passed out. Don’t you remember that?”
Diana stepped back, again, her backside now colliding with the paneled outdoor wall of the house behind her.
“I didn’t shoot him, though,” she stated. “I couldn’t have… I shot the… the vase…”
Jerry continued to pace towards her.
“Okay,” he began. “Well, if you think I did it… then what are you gonna do about it?”
He took one more step and stopped about five feet in front of her, now pulling the shovel up to his side once more.
Diana searched his dimly lit face for a long moment, and then shook her head and let a tear come to one eye.
“Are you gonna shoot me, too?” Jerry asked.
He waited for a response, but, when one didn’t come, he decided to go on, himself.
“Because I’m not so sure you want another person from your life come up mysteriously missing…”
He started to take another step towards Diana, but, at the same time, she tightened her grip on the gun, and then she pulled the trigger.
And then he laughed.
“Maybe you should’ve loaded it first,” he remarked.
Diana gasped and threw the pistol onto the ground. She then spun around and lunged for the front door, but, before she could reach it, Jerry jumped forwards and grabbed her by the shoulder.
“No!” she yelled out.
He pulled her backwards and pushed her to the ground by his feet.
“It’s too late, Di!” he shouted, now swinging his shovel over his shoulder.
Diana fell onto her back and cried out as she looked up at him.
“Why did you do it?” she asked.
“Because,” he replied, the shovel still held by the side of his head. “It was for your own…” He paused to throw the end of the shovel towards her head. “Good…”
Diana rolled to the side as the shovel implanted itself into the ground beside her. She then scrambled up to her feet and charged for the door once more.
“Ugh…” Jerry grumbled from behind while he pried the heavy tool out of the dirt.
Diana threw herself past the door and sprinted down the hallway inside. After that, she rushed into kitchen and made her way up to the side of the sink.
“Di!” Jerry yelled out, himself now running into the dining room area.
“Oh, God,” Diana muttered, whipping one of the kitchen drawers open to reveal a collection of sharp cutting knives.
“Arg!” Jerry screamed out, sprinting towards her with his shovel thrown over his shoulder once again.
Diana screamed back and spun herself around, a large chef knife in one hand.
Jerry tossed the shovel at her once more, and she dodged to the right, making him strike the faucet of the sink.
Just as he swung his shovel back, then, Diana lunged at him and shoved her knife directly into the center of his chest.
He fell silent and dropped the shovel to the floor.
“I know,” Diana whispered, grabbing his shoulder with her free hand. “You killed him.”
So… let me know what you think of the ending… or of the story overall… or anything else you’d like to share with me!
Until our next story story segment…
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