Nicole has always enjoyed writing but only started it seriously a little over a year ago. She is an average Jane from an ordinary town who grew up in an ordinary home, though she likes to consider herself not quite ordinary.
This is Nicole's first story for Something Wicked.
extract from Half a Bottle of Rum
Its soothing sharpness caresses her skin in an insufferable comfort. Thin trails on her thigh create alleyways to nowhere, to the bare bathroom floor. The mirror in her hand doesn’t lie; it uncovers the smudgy mascara to reveal the dark circles that gawk back at her. She shifts. The pain subsides as the crimson trails infuse the tub. The steamy water makes her woozy and she’s trembling. She opens her hand to release the shiny glass. Blood follows; a large laceration in her palm satisfies her with a sting as she drops her hand.
The strong smell of alcohol hovers in the room. His arm dangles lifelessly from the side of the bed where dry blood has wrapped his slim fingers. A grin of sheer satisfaction creeps along his face. The smashed photo frame gives substance to his broken fist and illustrates his implicit anger. Eyes closed, his head rests still on the whiskey-soaked pillow and he tries to remember why, before he passes out. Into a rage-enforced sleep he descends as the people in the downstairs blues-bar cheer the night away. He would rather be with her right now to replace his loneliness. Not that there’s any distinction between his preferences. They bring out the worst in each other. She killed him. The very day it started was the very day he died.
