Hello! Back, with some tension this time! Big surprise there. ^_- It has been a while since I last posted, so a review would be greatly appreciated! Have a nice read! ^_^

Chapter 1

Desperate Measures

Cream walls. Sunshine and birdsong drifting through the open window. A slight breeze lifted white, sheer curtains. A cradle stood empty by the wall, sheer drapings falling to the floor from the wood circle hanging above it. Baby blue mattress, white wood sides, it seemed almost sweet. Its round feet stood steady on the polished floor.

At the slam of a door, she leaned back, focused again. Her hand tightened on her knife. Her feet complained at the tension, and her hair kept falling into her eyes, but she couldn't afford to be distracted. Footsteps sounded in the hallway. She turned to stare at the door, terrified it would open. The door was baby blue, with little flowers painted around the handle. She remembered the painting, the smiles and the joy, the gratitude. She wondered, for just a moment, when all that had gone.

"Laughter drifted through the door. She could hear the opening and closing of cupboards, the crickle of plastic as they unpacked. They'd been to the shop. She could hear children shouting and screaming outside, challenging and encouraging, playing. The boy was probably out there with them, playing football or some other ball game. They were so fond of anything that rolled. Some days she hated it, hated the mud and the laundry, but today she was grateful for it. He wouldn't have to see, would never have to know, what she was about to do. Naïve perhaps, but she clung to it all the same.

Far too soon, the doorknob turned.

Far too soon, it creaked open.

She could hear his voice as he soothed the child, could hear the little clucks and sighs, and for a moment, just a moment, she closed her eyes and imagined everything was alright. She would step forward with a smile, pluck the child from his arms, kiss him, and dance away from him, making him laugh. The babe would giggle as she swooped to the cradle. He would follow, sighing with contentment, smiling as she put the babe to bed and crooned, playing with chubby hands and feet. As the babe fell asleep, she would turn back around, right into his arms, and everything would be right in this world
But she knew all too well what came next. She remembered the too strong hands. She recognized the too tight grip. She dreaded that hazy look. All would not be well, and she hated it.

Her eyes opened as he walked into the room. Her hand rose as he put the baby down. And as he turned, it fell towards his back, cutting through muscle and chipping past bone. And he saw her. And his eyes widened as he understood, and she hated the sight. He twisted, and she followed, refusing to let go. His hands grasped air, his chest roared, and she twisted the blade, over and over, wishing him dead. Why couldn't he just die? Blood was everywhere. His hands found her neck, and she felt tears on her cheeks. They fell to the floor, crushing her, leaving her breathless. His hand went to his back, trying to tear out the knife. She felt him tremble, watched as his hand fell, watched as the light went out of his eyes. And she cried.

Why does it have to hurt?

It took her a while to wriggle loose. Her dress was soaked by the blood. For a moment, she simply sat there, breathing. Her eyes, so far away. Her mind, scattered. Then a door slammed shut, and the floor trembled from the eager pair of feet, as her son, her big boy, ran through the house, calling out "I'm ho-ome!".
Quickly, she lurched towards the door, slamming it shut. Her breathing stopped and transformed into hiccups, as she leaned on the baby blue wood. She wished for more time, some time to gather her wits and-... and do what? For what? He will never forgive you. Even if you pleaded with him for a thousand years, he would never forgive you. You killed his father.

Tears kept falling, and she couldn't stop them. She pulled her knees up, and let her head drop into her hands, and-, Stop it. It won't help. It never helps, so just stop it! Get a grip. She sniffled and wiped her tears away, only then noticing the blood on her hands. She couldn't let him see her like this. He might realise what she had done, but he should never see her like this. Or his father.

Her eyes went to the cradle. The babe was quiet, had been quiet for too long. In one lightning movement, she launched herself off the floor, to the cradle. There, on the blue mattress, swathed in white linens, lay her baby girl, eyes shut, but still breathing quietly. Heaving a sigh of relief, she looked down at the body of the man and begun to think, properly think, for what seemed to her the first time in years.

A/N: Hello~! Haven't been writing for while, but this needed editing, so I'll see if I can't continue it soon. See you then~! Bye bye~