Reconstruction of a Memory - Matt Reed

I stood at the window, poking my head out. Clueless as to the horrors about to take place. Observing the environment around my house. Looking up and down. I locked the door, slowly dragging my body up the stairs. I made my way into my bed and kissed my wife on the cheek. She slept so soundly, like a kitten. I laid my head down on the pillow.

I woke up and yawned. I could feel my heavy bladder. I walked down the dark hallway. What was that weird smell? Leaky pipe? Spilled hairspray? It had a strong metallic scent.  I walked into the bathroom and struggled to flip the light switch on, and took a piss. I approached the sink and scrubbed my hands. What was that smell? Was it me? I squeezed out more soap and scrubbed harder just to be sure, applying some deodorant as well. I hurried back to my bed and laid down. Why am I all wet? My pants were drenched with something, the smell had also gotten a lot stronger now. I got up from my bed and turned on my lamp.

I turned around and dropped to my knees. The tears instantly came running down my face. My wife. MY WIFE. I grabbed her hand, it was covered in blood. Everything was covered in blood. I stood up and looked for my phone. Where did I put my god damn phone? I ran down the steps and to the kitchen. Sweat was dripping down from every part of my body. I tried to pick up the landline, but I couldn’t grasp it. What was that noise? Sirens? I ran to the window. Red and blue violently bled into my kitchen, blinding me before I even opened the curtain. I put my eye up to the fabric and peeked through a small opening. Police surrounded my home. Who called the police? I took a deep breath and walked out the door. The men saw the blood on me, pointing their firearms at me in response. They approached me as I yelled. “ I didn’t do it”.

They wrapped the cold cuffs around my wrist as shock ran down my body. I was shoved in the back of the police car.

As I sit in this dark cell, I dread that night. Every second of it, but I can’t forget it. I’m alone and as clueless as I was when this all started.

Authors Notes:
I didn’t know where to start when we first got this assignment. I thought about what would be a very unforgettable memory. A traumatic one. Then, I thought about one of the close readings we did in class. I thought about the one from the Handmaid’s Tale, where Offred remembered Luke killing the class. Atwood added Offred’s mental state into the story. How scared and confused Offred was at the time, and I wanted that to be in my story. So, by doing this. I would have the main character ask lot’s of questions during the memory to show what was going on inside his head. I also wanted to add little hints as to what was about to happen, and at the end of the story leave it off so the reader is just as confused as the main character.