Dead i. A Steemit Original Fiction Series. Episode 3

Then.

If you look back, you can see all the things that led up to The End. One single event did not cause it; in fact, it was a series of events that seemed unrelated at the time which stacked up while you were looking the other way and suddenly all fell down like a neat row of apocalyptic dominos. First the extreme weather, blizzards in July, scorching dry winters and floods in the desert. Then the earthquakes and mass animal die offs. Then came the banking blackouts and shortages of food. Naturally, all the chaos led to questions, and when the powers that be didn’t provide satisfying answers the people started to riot. The subsequent breakdown in society led to health epidemics spreading like fire.

Then, when we were at our weakest, came the attacks.

But, in her little suburban corner of the world, most of this was somewhat bearable. Considering how things were in her own personal reality.

“You’re reduced to digging through the trash?”

“I called my wife on her lunch break for a nice surprise, only to find out from the receptionist she wasn’t there. Who did you go to lunch with?"

“Seriously Jackson?”

“What did I tell you about answering my question with a question?”

She turned back to the shirt she was folding. Her heart was beating in her throat and her vision was tunneling. His shirts had to be folded a certain way or he would be angry. She made a flamboyant show of creasing his shirt just so, hoping he would fixate on that and lose track of his current ridiculous yet treacherous path.

“I asked you a question Kayla.” She was suddenly yanked backward. “Answer me! Who did you have lunch with?” He spat at her.

“Just a friend from work. Carol if it really matters.” She immediately regretted her nasty tone as his fingers dug into the flesh of her arm.

“You always eat at the office. Is “Carol” code for “Carl?”

“Carl? Who the hell is Carl?”

“You tell me,” he sneered.

“I don’t even know a Carl, Jackson. Carol and I went to lunch across the street just to get out of the office for a change. I treated her because she’s been going through a lot at home and-“

“I don’t give a shit about that! You weren’t where you were supposed to be. Again. Now tell me who you went to lunch with.” He shook her so hard she heard a crack in her neck.

“I told you, I took Car-“

This was the first time he hit her. But it wouldn’t be the last.

She made excuses for his behavior. The stress of the world breaking down around them was the one she told herself most often. It was as if she was the world, and he was the chaos. The worse things got around them the worse he got.

Looking back, you can see all the little things that added up to make the big end.

She told herself this is the last time. If he does it again I’m leaving. But she told herself that more times than she wanted to admit. The next day he would apologize and cry and hold her, telling her how much he hated himself for what he did to her while drunk, and that he was going to stop drinking for good.

But it was never the last time. Until it was.

Sadly, it was the last time for almost everything.