"You need some time away, Bill."
I was sitting in my boss's office, the fern on his windowsill a sparkling green in the sunlight. A picture of his smiling family mocking me from the edge of his desk.
"You haven't been yourself since..." he paused for a moment, "...well, I'll just say it. Since Maggie left with the kids. I hope that's not too forward of me but I'm worried about you.
Take a few days to collect yourself."
I had told him about Maggie, my wife of ten years, leaving with Jonie and Brian. But it was a lie. She hadn't gone anywhere.
When I got home the day she murdered the children and I saw her standing over their lifeless bodies I think something in me snapped.
I knew she had stopped taking her medication but I never ever imagined she'd hurt the kids.
"You don't understand," she'd said. "They were evil and they were going to hurt us."
She was right. I didn't understand. So I tied her up tightly and force fed her the medicine in hopes that it would begin working again quickly.
I left her in the basement with my beautiful babies so that when the delusion faded she would have to see what she'd done.
Last night I woke to hear her screaming and crying from downstairs and I knew that her meds had finally forced her back into reality.
I checked on her this morning. All was quiet as I went down the basement stairs, but when I reached the bottom the screaming started again. Only this time it was me who was doing the screaming.
The headless body of my wife was still tied to the chair. But the children were gone.
I think I went to work on autopilot simply to establish some normalcy.
But my boss is right. I do need some time away. Far, far away