If I Believe Beatrice, Would He Be Able To Keep His Word?

Rick could not believe Beatrice had not given up on him. When he saw no hope in himself, no light, Bea still made him feel he had all the potential locked up inside bursting to get out. All he had to do was to take the first step. It was easy to promise. Nevertheless, would he be able to keep his word?

Rick went to the mirror. The mirror narrated him a sad story. Defeated sunken eyes stared back at him. Dull haggard skin wrinkled out, spotted and unattractive covered his facial bones. His shirt hung loose on his shrunken frame. The alcohol had taken a toll on his looks, health and spirit.

He laughed bitterly, “spirit taking the spirit” he thought to himself. Bea was putting the children to sleep. After their conversation, she went to check on the
His hands gripped the edge of the sink. The cold metal giving him power. He will have to be cold with himself, merciless, if he wanted to crawl out of the hole he had trapped himself. He took a glass from the counter, filled it up with cold water and drunk it slowly.

****

Bea felt Rick’s body sliding under her. She closed her eyes and pretended to sleep. She wanted to cry. She knew these nocturnal visits meant he was going to have a drink. As Rick went out of the room, she clutched her pillow hard and muffled her sobs.

After a few minutes of intense anguish she decided to catch him red handed breaking his promise. As she opened the door softly, she saw Rick holding a bulging plastic bag and going into the kitchen. Soundlessly she shadowed him, peeping and peering to see what he was doing.

When Rick opened the first jar and hesitated, Bea almost broke down. She prayed hard for him to throw it away. And he did. Not once, not twice, but he poured all the poison in the jars down the drain. Bea cried mutely. She cried out of relief. She cried out of joy. She cried with great hope in her heart. As stealthily as she had come, she went back to bed, took her initial position and pretended to