Wednesday Stories: Bubblebath
The bubbles lathered across her body were like bubble wrap to the eyes.
They blanketed themselves all over her nude, pale skin, protecting her body and the fragile things inside.
The bath water was overflowing when he got there. To an optimist it would seem she was still meditating as she always did under the water during her evening baths. She would take her time and hold her breath.
“It calms the nerves and gives you a ringing silence that only the compressed vacuum of water provided,” she would tell him. But that was a long time ago when they actually talked.
To a mysanthrope, she was dead. Floating stiff like a log on the surface of a calm river. To a pessimist, he hoped she was dead.
He watched as the water gradually spilled out of the tub, bringing along with it the bubbles that prior to this covered the entire surface of the water she submerged herself in.
Soon, the liquid would reach his feet and the cool, calming sensation of the aqua would splash out of the bathroom and into the hallway. He would follow it as it trickled down the fourth floor landing into the second living room down below. The house would be wet and their furniture would be ruined. But that didn’t matter anymore. She didn’t matter anymore.
All those times she’d ask him to use a coaster or to take off his shoes before he came into the house would be a distant request long silenced and ignored along with her beneath the now bubble-less water of the tub.
It was so simple. All he needed to do was to push the radio into the tub and all those demands and harsh requests and incessant pleading and ceaseless bids for attention that went on and on and on and ON! … would finally stop. With a spark they would stop.
He kept his gaze fixed on her unmoving form.
Somewhere, a buzzing sound rung in his ears, tickling his drums. He ingnored it as he took in the sight of her lifeless body, his silent triumph over her. His trophy wife, a better trophy in this form than she will ever be in any other.
The buzzing became louder over time. Gradually, it became more and more discernible as a word that kept being repeated over time. Louder and louder till the buzzing ceased entirely.
“What the hell has gotten into you?!” the sound of his wife’s voice reverberated within the enormous hollow bathroom he had built following her specific demands.
“I said, get me my robes. And wipe that stupid look off your face while you’re at it.” “Idiot.”
Hector turned away from his wife and trudged out of the bathroom to fetch her a towel. In his heart of hearts he would watch her be still in the tub.
“One day,” he told himself.
for the word prompt Bubblebath