“Why thank you!” I said, smiling. He led me inside but told me to cover my eyes.
“Almost there…” he said as we walked up the front steps. “Ok, open!” he said. I slowly opened my eyes, afraid of what I would see.
“Surprise!!” people yelled. Graham had brought everyone together as a welcome home party and I noticed he also had all the boxes unpacked from our move. The apartment was beautiful. He had repainted some of the rooms, and painted the living room red, my favorite color.
“One more thing.” He said and went off to another room. One by one people came up to talk to me. First was my parents.
“Oh welcome home, baby!” they both screamed, showering me with hugs and kisses. I hugged them back and then they backed off to let other people through.
“How are you feeling?” someone yelled from the back of the crowd. I had no idea who it was.
“I’m great, thanks. But excuse me, I have a call I need to make.” I said and cut through the crowd to the kitchen.
Once inside the safety of the kitchen, I began dialing the hospital’s telephone number. The secretary picked up.
“Hello, hospital, how can I help you?” she asked.
“I was wondering how Patricia Ross was doing.” I asked, tapping my fingernails on the counter.
“Please hold.” The secretary said, and I heard elevator music. I rolled my eyes and waited. The anxiety was killing me.
I looked around the freshly painted kitchen, with all of our old appliances. My eyes drifted over to the butcher block containing all the knives. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I reopened them and stared at the knives again. Just once, I thought. No one will ever know. Just this once. There was an overpowering voice inside my head demanding me to do it. I put the phone down quietly, and moved towards the opposite counter. I was in a sort of trance, not realizing what I was doing until someone said my name.