u s e y o u r h a n d s

The last installment of the serial. You know, I always intend to write something funny, but I never do. Ever. Sorry about that.

“What in the hell, Veronica?” Barry yelled after the door shut behind them. Veronica was already heading back into the kitchen to make some very strong coffee and toast. “Let him yell,” she thought.

He followed her into the kitchen and wondered what had happened. Veronica used to glow alive, but now she was shuttered, hiding her light. Her moods were more and more irrational and truculent. They irritated him because she seemed unable to control them. Or perhaps unwilling.

With each motion she used to make the coffee, Veronica kept time to a metronome ticking in her head. Barry’s pacing was not in step and her song grew increasingly discordant. She fought to block out his red, demanding face but he kept beating back into her tune.

“Veronica!” he shouted. And even as his volume increased, so did his love for her lyrical name. He repeated it, softer this time, remembering with his love for her. She heard the change in his voice and turned her face in profile.

“That bird,” she began, but her voice sounded froggy with phlegm. She cleared her throat and began again. “That bird. I just wanted to look at it.”

“But it was gross,” he said, holding his arms out at his sides.

The coffeepot was nearly full. She firmly grasped the handle and held out the delicate flesh inside her arm. It was his favorite part of her and when he touched her there, she’d shudder. Her extended arm shook slightly, but the one holding the coffeepot was steady. Barry felt close to vomiting. He couldn’t speak or stop her. He stood still as she poured the entire pot over her skin.

When the last drop hit Veronica’s arm, she dropped the pot and it shattered across the floor. The sound of the glass mingled with her own screaming. Her arm shook violently now, but she did not dare touch it. Barry grabbed her hand and pulled her arm underneath the tap. Blisters bubbled up instantly and her skin, once beautifully white, turned a livid red, like blood gone solid. She needed to go to the emergency room. He shut off the tap and reached for a nearby dishtowel.

As he wrapped up her arm, he screamed for an answer. “Why did you do that?”

Her arm still felt as if coffee was being poured over it. The pain was so intense she thought she might faint. It was exquisite. She caught her breath and looked into Barry’s eyes. He was horrified. His expression sent goosebumps crawling across her body, including the wounded arm. She gasped at this unexpected pleasure.

Barry shifted his feet and the glass crunched beneath them. This was sick. “Why did you do this?” he repeated, at a somewhat lower volume. Tears snaked down his face.

Veronica whispered her answer before collapsing in his arms, “Because it was beautiful.”