The Carpet Cleaner by C J Richardson 2011
The sticky red patch on her beautiful cream carpet glared at her. Where was he? She tried to look around through swollen eyes. Probably gone to get the bucket of water and sponge.
“Clean that mess up bitch” he would say and then he would go out. He always came back a couple of hours later, expecting his tea ready. He would inspect the carpet to see if it had been cleaned properly. Then he would speak to her as if nothing had happened.
Well not anymore.
She dragged herself to the hearth and took hold of the poker, then crawled to the open sitting room door and hauled herself up, using the wall for support. She stood behind it, her arms raised, and waited.
He walked back in to the room carrying the bucket. She struck him on the back of the head with all the force she could muster. He fell like a stone.
The bucket slipped from his hand and landed the right way up. She watched, transfixed, as the water flew up in to the air, then dropped slowly down again into its container, bouncing and spilling before coming to rest.
The blood started to gather in a pool at the side of his head. Poor carpet!
She wiped the poker handle clean, and then took the sponge and the bucket back to the kitchen.
She tore the wallet from his pocket and emptied it along with the contents of her purse. She threw the notes in to the fire and watched them burn.
Picking up the phone, she dialled 999.
“Ambulance please. Someone has attacked me and my husband. I think they’ve killed him. Please hurry.”