Cement Head

The stereo plays somewhere in the background of the old house, pushing out the sound known as Metallica. The room isn't completley dark but the details are hard to make out. She sits rigid on the bed, rocking slightly as her mind spins into oblivion. Memories of days that have gone by and thoughts of times that will never exist zoom through her broken mind. Her body works overtime to digest the poison as it seeps from her uncleansed pores. "Remember to put gloves on before you touch the baby." Is the last thought that occurs. She twitches once, she twitches twice and now she's on the floor. Her skeletal-like body convulsing into a massive seizure. Maybe this is what she wanted, what she dreamed of as a little girl. Not owning her own home, not marrying the man of her dreams but riding the white picket fence to her own horrific death as her baby screams in the next room.