My Crazy Psychotic Love

A Story by InsomniacWriter

Hymns were pinching the mourners’ ears with its torturous lyrics. My hand slid across the gold lining of the mahogany coloured coffin.

I hallucinated the blood trailing behind my hand on the casket. One silly impulse changed my life. One awfully stupid urge cost someone’s life. The kaleidoscope of my utterly boring life. My husband. Sadism had taken over me ever since my daughter died of cancer.

I somehow enjoyed seeing her in pain, the rush of pleasure coursing through my veins. The worriedness of a mother never existed inside me. I didn’t bother to take her to the doctor because of my own desires.

How foolish of me! “Rochelle, the funeral is finished! It is time to lower the coffin,” a masculine voice shrilled into my ears.

“Not now, Callum, I just need a few more minutes…or hours,” I whispered softly.

“Are you serious? Before we know it, this coffin will smell like some decaying bog. This is why we bury it, Rochelle.”

“But I don’t care! He is not your husband, is he?”

“Fine, but don’t come back running back to me to disinfect your nose.” And with that, my brother stomped off until I could hear nothing but the soft footsteps.

His presence was not needed as I had my own funeral playing inside my mind.

The women wailing with pain; the harmony of violins floating in the air and the black ravens swirling about, above the coffin, in the cerulean sky appeared to be my ideal sort of funeral.

Niall, my husband.

I bent over slightly, and hastily loosened the nails, which were securing the two parts of the coffin. The sharpness scraped off my skin, making me sigh with plea. Why do I enjoy this too much? I unveiled his pale, motionless body lying on the cushioned casket. My hands itched to touch his face.

No.

He is dead.

Imprudently, my bony fingers traced the outline of his face, experiencing the icy skin. His lips, maroon with a blue tint on the curves. The aquiline nose had a pink blotch on top it, camouflaging its actual beauty.

I suddenly gasped when I came across his eyes. My nails pulled back his lilac eyelids, revealing his turquoise eyes.

Don’t you dare, Rochelle… My eyes scanned his.

It almost felt like that a whole story lay in his eyes. The colour of aquamarine represented the sensitivity and the struggles for health in his life. The black pupils symbolized the isolation. The shine facing upwards signified the hope in his existence. The appearance intensely overwhelmed me.

I must control myself. Have some resistance.

Ignoring what was good for me, I ruffled his fluffy ombré hair, tangling my fingers, drowning them into it. Oh how much will I miss him? The wish of replaying the whole scene of Niall poked my brain. Maybe one flashback won’t hurt…

“Have you seen my tie?” Niall bellowed.

“It’s right here in the wardrobe.”

“Thanks, my sugar plum.” It was his first day for his new job as an art teacher.

If I were him, I might as well wear some tacky beret to look stylish. It is better off to be yourself. After his departure, I couldn’t help but think about the Tallulah’s death.

The depression that used to cling to him was unbearable. The constant babbling about me not crying or even showing some sadness.

The repetitive questions were soon agonising because there was no way I could tell him, that I actually relished her torture and death.

Two years after her demise.

It was merely impossible to tell him the truth. His uncontrollable jabbering might end me up in the nuthouse or even worse…jail. With no useful activity, I looked at some photo albums of the old times of my ‘family’.

My fingertips outlined the photographs. Were those memories of bliss or just a cover-up for our darkest times? Niall couldn’t manage himself and had to be sent to a psychological ward.

Tallulah was growing weaker and weaker, sucking every last drop of her life. And I? I just savoured every moment.

Pathetic little sadistic monster.

The time flew by ever so quickly by my extreme absorption in my thoughts. I heard the door knock faintly as I was heading towards the door. It exposed a man with a torn shirt and his hair sticking in every direction.

“Niall?”

“I don’t want to go back,” he cried with fat tears rolling out of his eyes. His day must’ve been very bad. He buried his face into my hair, wetting my head.

“Tell me, what happened?”

“I was very happy in the morning and then in class, I made a perfect pile of paints then a kid just-just took one! It ruined the pile! I hit him and then the whole class started to hit me very hard!”

“Honey, may I remind you that, this is daily life. The child obviously wanted to paint, so why get so worked up?”

“But I arranged it!”

“Come on, I’ll make you some tea and get your medicine while you go upstairs.” As he was told, he obediently went to his room meanwhile, I went to the kitchen.

I thought he was getting better. His medicine seemed to produce good results. Maybe something triggered it.

It’s happening again.

No, I am dreaming.

I frantically grabbed the bottle of tablets and raced upstairs, apprehensive about Niall. A rumbling sound was heard from the bedroom, causing me to whimper fearfully.

No…

“ROCHELLE!” A pair of bloodshot eyes pierced through my hazel eyes. Niall’s finger was pointing at a picture of Tallulah. Oh no! “How dare you take these photos out? How many times have I told you that never ever take these pictures out?”

“But-”

“No ‘buts’! You know why this is not good for my health. You know what happens to me.”

“I-what-Don’t use this as an excuse!”

“It’s not an excuse! This is real! I even have a medication!”

“If I knew you were autistic before then I would’ve never married you. You spastic imbecile!” I abruptly put my hands over my mouth, trying to pour back those bitter words.

Realisation hit me when Niall’s hand started twitching.

Unexpectedly, his teeth stabbed into his skin, drawing out blood. He started banging his head against the paintings on the wall. Pieces of glass flying everywhere, damaging everything present.

What should I do?

Medicine?

No! No!

Call triple nine!

Scream! Anything?

I hastily grabbed the tablets. Niall kept on hurting himself. I grabbed his jaw. His nails scratched me, sharply. I took countless tablets. I forced it down it throat. I heard him choke.

His leg met my stomach. I moaned with pure ecstasy.

He is dying! Quick, dial the number!

I pressed the buttons hastily, impatiently waiting for a reply.

“Good afternoon, what’s your emergency?” A mono-toned voice answered.

“I need an ambulance at 56 Cronkeygrove Avenue. A man is choking. HURRY,” I blared.

In merely minutes, an ear-splitting siren was perceived. The paramedics sprinted to carry Niall on a stretcher who was azure and unconscious. God, help him!

He was placed in the intensive care unit with a big monitor sitting next to his bed.

It’s entirely my fault.

An oxygen mask was fortified on Niall’s face. Poor him. A sense of compulsion was burning in my stomach.

Ignore it! Ignore it!

I suspiciously looked around and before I could blink I climbed onto his bed. I straddled Niall and roughly removed his mask. His teal eyes fluttered open. They searched the room vulnerably. A smirk crept onto my lips.

My limbs reached his neck. I excruciatingly seized his neck initiating his eyes to pop open. He gasped for air. Hearing him whine in pain was wonderful for me.

BEEP!

The monitor gave an alarming sound as I jumped off the bed, dashing out of the room. I looked left and right. Beads of sweat trailing down my body. The doctors glaring at me.

Must escape. Now.

“Excuse me love, where do you think you’re going?” A doctor asked, doubtful.

Think of a lie.

“ I need a glass of water…that’s all.”

“Why don’t you just say so? Instead of running around like if you’ve murdered someone.” He burst out laughing. I only managed to spill a nervous giggle.

That was close.

“Miss Howards!” A distant voice called out. I turned my head around. Was I in trouble? Please God, help me. A nurse sympathetically led to the room where Niall was located. A couple of my relatives were sobbing inside the room.

Please-

“I am afraid that your husband has passed away. I am utterly sorry.” A doctor lowered his head with sorrow. A few droplets trickled down my cheek.

The tears landed on Niall’s benumbed lips. Curse my sadism. I was nothing but an egotistical person. He needed help; I should’ve had that protective emotion.

If Tallulah had never died, this never would have occurred. I have betrayed myself.

“Rochelle! It has been four hours! The funeral is over,” Callum yelled with his hair plastered onto his face. Rain. My face ascended to the sky scrutinizing the movement.

The grey clouds swirled around like they had life of their own. Death never existed for them. I heard the splashing of the muddy puddles indicating that Callum was here to fetch me. He sat down with his arms embracing me.

“Listen, we have to let our loved-ones go. I know what really happened. I am sure that you can do that, you strong girl!”

“But not only I murdered Niall but Tallulah too!” I wept.

“That was the past, Rochy. Maybe his death was for the betterment for this universe.”

“Nope! Even that doesn’t make me feel better!”

“ I know but I tried. However, it’s time to say goodbye, darling.” I felt that it’s normal to be sad if someone has died nonetheless, it is abnormal to be obsessed.

With one last glance at Niall, I caressed his cheek. I crept closer. Close enough for my breath to tickle his ear.

“I love you.”

Maybe, this can’t be too bad.

“You know, today is Autism day. How about we celebrate this day every year to honour him,” Callum lightened by a little.

“I would like that.”

And with that sentence, we walked home with the thunder muffling our voices.