by Dee Laine
When was the last time she slept? Was it 20 or 21 days? But before it happened? That would make it 14 days. Just a mere 14 days without any real sleep. No excuse. What the hell was wrong with her? How could she have been so stupid? STUPID!
The trees wizzed by as she drove down Highway 2. Flipping Highway 2. Flipping trees. If she crashed into one, that would end it wouldn’t it? Just keep the foot on the pedal and turn the wheel to the left. Or right. Didn’t matter.
Cora rolled down her window. The hot humid air whipped through her hair. She pressed harder on the gas pedal. Flipping heat. Flipping car. She hated that car. Hated it. And the flipping line at the grocery store. Old ladies with coupons. Stupid coin purses. Stupid price checks.
Cora pulled the car to the side of the road. She looked back at the empty infant seat in the back. Stupid! How could she forget? How? Flipping goddamn heat. Flipping goddamn lines.
It was in the glove box. She pulled it out and walked into the woods. No more. Not one more goddamn day. It felt foreign and heavy in her hands. The brush scraped against her legs and arms. Good. This should hurt. Mosquitoes swarmed and sucked without mercy. Good. This should be uncomfortable. She deserved it.
Cora fell to her knees and shook uncontrollably. A sign. Anything. God almighty, is there forgiveness?