Quick Now
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Ashleigh Kennedy, Grade 9, Quakers Hill High School
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Short Story
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2015
Excellence Award in the 'The Write Track 2015' competition
Quick now, they’ll be here any second.
Fix the cuffs. Shirt won’t stay straight. Flash a smile in the mirror, act natural. Pull a tragic face, pout theatrically. Put on a show. Pick the red out from under your finger nails. Turn off the tap. Scrub the edges of the sink; leave no trace.
Turn, walk out. The TV’s on, still flickering, too loud. Turn it down before the neighbours complain. Stand still, listen for the baby. Silence. Breathe out, straighten the pillows. Step around the blood dripping off the bed sheets, pooling, thick and red. Pick up the purple lipstick tube off the side table, brush it over her lips. Close her eyes. Kiss her forehead, hollow under your lips. The blood hasn’t dried; don’t get it on your face.
“Sorry baby.”
Back to the bathroom. Flick on the tap. Harsh noise, watch it wash the remaining down the drain. Dab water under your eyes. There’s still some on your hands. Tongue between your teeth in concentration as you dig the soap into your pores, the room sickly sweet with peaches and the metallic smell. Back out. Quick; right the lamp. It still has blood on the base, turn the broken side to the wall. Red and blue flickering through the window, shrieking sirens approaching. Close the curtains. Wait.
The front door bangs open, loud shouts disrupting the baby. You rush into the hall, wet face adding to the illusion as your force tears and a shallow scream.
“She’s dead! She’s dead, she’s dead!”