Heart String

This place messes with the format in terms of indents and the such, but opefully it won't annoy you as much as it annoys me.I'll post it all at once, but in different parts, to make for somewhat easy book marking and starting and stopping points.

HEART STRING
By
Matthew Ashcraft





Kevin awoke a few minutes before his alarm was set to go off. A dream about Holly sputtered from his mind like milk from a completely overturned container. The meat of the dream was gone, just seconds after waking, but when he closed his eyes, he could see Holly's face still. Two months since she left, and every night he had dreamed of her. He savored the mental image, his lids shut until the alarm finally went off with a buzz. Kevin sat up, switching the clock off, swinging his feet over the side of the bed. His eyes found the framed picture of the two of them, and he saw his memories never did her justice. The picture was

black and white. Timeless. They were at the beach, in shorts and tee shirts. Sandals he assumed, but he couldn't see their feet and didn't specifically remember. Their arms were around one another as a wave broke behind them, white foam that wrecked sand castles in reality was forever frozen on his nightstand. She was forever frozen on his nightstand, her face ageless, her hair in a ponytail, and her smile, though beautiful, was fake. He knew that now.

*

In the shower, Kevin masturbated for the first time since Holly died. He thought of nothing. Not of her, not of anyone. He just did it, as if his body had finally had enough, his sexual urges had built up and demanded to be released. He did it without thinking, and it didn't last long.
He stood in front of a steam covered mirror, and swiped across the surface with his hand. Holly hated that. Use a towel, she would say. Don't get prints all over it. I know damn well you won't be the one to clean it. Even when he
was getting reprimanded, Kevin was in love with that voice. These days, he could only hear it, tiny and from far away in one saved message on his cell phone. She would never say his name again. She would never yell at him for all the little things that bothered her. Just, late at night, when he couldn't sleep, she would speak from a memory, trapped in technology.
“Hey babe, I'm starving. You working late? If not grab something yummy on your way home. Text me so I know.”
That was all Kevin would ever hear her say again. He would listen to it. Over and over. And he would weep.
Standing in front of that mirror, Kevin lathered shaving cream between his hands and applied it to his jaw. He shaved every other day, and it used to fascinate Holly. She would sit on the toilet watching him. Maybe she brushed her teeth while she sat, but usually she just sat. They were in love, and they were comfortable with silence. Half of his face was done when Kevin noticed the long black hair sticking from his chest. He set the razor down, turned off the water and let his fingers find the hair, eyes offering backwards directions in the mirror. He gripped the hair and tried to pull, but his fingers were too slick. He finished shaving.

He was running late when he pulled into the parking lot of work. Kevin worked for a food distribution company, handling payroll. Kevin cut through the large warehouse, attempting to slide in the back way and avoid his boss' questions about his tardiness. It worked, and Kevin sighed with relief as he dropped behind his desk in his small office, turning his monitor on. He got to work, and went hours without talking to anyone.
“Hey, Kev.” Kevin looked up, Leah stood in his doorway, a pencil skirt tight on her hips. She was attractive, blond shoulder length hair, plump ruby red lips. She was a few years younger than Kevin's twenty nine. Most people in the office had avoided Kevin since his wife died, simply because they had no idea what to say to him. Leah had been the opposite. She had taken Kevin out to lunch, tried to talk him into going out after work with the group on Fridays. It was Wednesday today.
“Hey.” Kevin answered, leaning back in his chair, away from his keyboard.
“Didn't see you get in this morning.”
“Yeah, I snuck in a little late.”
“Oh. Well, you know. Don't work too hard. Want some coffee?”
Kevin shook his head. “I'm alright.”

Leah shut his office door, and Kevin went back to work.
A little past one Kevin thought maybe he should look into getting some lunch. Rolled back from his desk and stood, his arms outstretched above his head, pulling relief with a twinge of pain into his back. Kevin pushed his chair in with one hand, his other hand scratching his chest through his shirt. He looked down, pulling his chin close to his body and saw the long hair. He slid two fingers down through the neck of his button up shirt, plucking at it. Even with dry fingers, he made no progress.

Sitting in line at a fast food place, Kevin thought about Holly. He had met her years ago, right after he had graduated high school. Kevin had taken a job at a grocery store to make some cash before he started college, and perhaps, to work there part time while he went to school. Holly was his age, and had been working there throughout high school. She trained him on register his second day.
“This stuff really isn't that hard.” She had told him, smiling that smile of hers, a hint of sadness behind pale blue eyes.
“Yeah.” Kevin said, unable to take his eyes off her.

“I've done it before, you know a few jobs during high school.” He rang a few items up for imaginary customers in their closed lane, trying to think of something else to say top her.
“Wanna play the question game?” She tilted her head to the side, like a cute puppy that doesn't understand the commands it's being told.
“The question game?”
“Right. I ask a question, we both answer it, then you ask a question, we both answer it. And So on.”
And on it went, and by the end of the day Kevin knew Holly's favorite movie, (The Goonies) her favorite band (The Beatles) and her favorite food (Anything chocolate). He knew that and more, and she about him. He had also found out that she was dating someone, and she knew that he had just gotten dumped by a long term (for someone in high school) girlfriend. So for a year, they were nothing but friends. Friends who talked constantly, flirted every day, and seemed destined for more.
A metallic voice cut through Kevin's daydream like a shark fin through water. He had pulled next to the menu at the fast food place, and hadn't ordered, despite many prompts. Kevin looked at the box for a second, and then drove off.

Kevin got home late that evening. He locked the front door behind him and moved into the living room, kicking his shoes off without untying them. He flipped the TV on with the remote and unbuttoned his shirt. He looked down, the hair was there, black and long. He stood and walked into the bathroom. Standing in front of the sink, Kevin opened the medicine cabinet, rummaging through medicine and toothpaste until he pulled out a pair of tweezers. Looking down, he grabbed the hair between the tweezers and pulled quickly. The hair didn't go anywhere, a sharp pain as it pulled his skin.
“Shit.” Kevin frowned softly, grabbing the hair once more with the tweezers and pulling again. The hair didn't leave his chest again, but looking in the mirror, Kevin could swear it was a little longer. Once more with the tweezers, a quick short pull, a stab of irritating pain, and the hair looked a little longer. Setting the tweezers beside the sink, Kevin left the bathroom.

*


“Kevin? Hi, it's Holly.” Her voice was low, shaking softly. Kevin sat up in bed, his cell phone to his ear.
“Yeah. I know. Hi.”
“Did I wake you up?”
“No, no.” Yes. She had.
“I broke up with Mark.”
Kevin pumped his hand in the air a bit. A victory. “What? That's too bad. Why?”
“He was cheating on me. Do you have time to talk?” He did, and they did, until early morning light started to creep into their bedrooms, miles apart. They both worked that morning, and they greeted each other in the break room, eyes puffy and red from lack of sleep. A few weeks later, they went on their first official date.

*

Kevin woke in the middle of the night suddenly. He turned onto his side and stared at the emptiness next to him. She was a night owl and he would often awake to find her sitting up in bed, supported by the headboard, her laptop on her legs, her beautiful face framed by that unearthly neon blue glow of the screen. Or, he would awake

and she wouldn't be in bed. She'd be down the hall in the living room, watching some movie she had been thinking about and couldn't wait until the next day to watch again. Or she'd be sitting at the dining room table, looking out the large sliding glass doors, tears running down her cheeks. He hated to see her cry, but he saw it often. Kevin reached over and turned on his bedside lamp. He pulled himself up, resting back against the headboard. He sat for a few minutes, eyes unfocused, thinking about Holly. When he came to he found he was rubbing at that long hair on his chest. He looked down at the hair, fingers once more pinching it. “One, two, three.” Kevin pulled, a quick sharp motion. A shock of pain, but the hair remained. Tears stung his eyes after a few more attempts, and he let his hand fall from the hair. He closed his eyes for a few minutes, mind whirring on in the darkness. He opened his eyes, knowing he would not go back to sleep tonight. He turned on his TV, and a few minutes later, in the blue glow that always reminded him once more of Holly and he laptop, his fingers were picking at that long black hair spiraling from his chest.

*

The next day Kevin sat once more at his desk. A half eaten sub sandwich sat next to his keyboard, a paper cup of cold Coke, wet with beads of sweat stood guard over it. Kevin sat straight, looking alert as he looked up random things on Wikipedia. He knew how to slack, if his boss popped in and Kevin was hunched over, holding himself up with one hand, the other on the mouse, he would know right away Kevin was slacking. The key was to look work bored, not random Internet surfing bored. When you're doing work, especially paper work, you're always bored, but theres something extra. You're also mad. You're bored and pissed off about it, because you have to do work. Surfing the Internet is boring as well, typing things in to various fields at random, but it doesn't piss you off, because you're choosing to do it. To get away from the boredom of work, you're choosing to be bored on the Internet. You can relax, let your guard down, bend that spine. Kevin leaned back after reading an article listing most of the historical figures who've been beheaded, his hand reaching for that sub. He took a bite, mayo sitting at the corner of his mouth. After the sandwich had been replaced, and the mayo wiped away, his hand was down the front of his shirt, as discreet as possible, fingers tugging at that hair.
“Hey, Leah.” Kevin leaned into her cubicle. Leah turned

in her chair, crossing her legs as she did.
“Kevin. Hi. Need something?”
“Yeah, scissors? Uh, do you have any?”
“Of course.” Leah turned around, and when she spun back, her feet off the ground, like a child would spin in a chair, she was holding a pair of orange handled scissors. She handed them to him. “Anything else?”
“No. Thanks.” Kevin took them and turned, heading back to his office. He thought better of it and turned into the bathroom as he passed it. It appeared empty, and Kevin hesitated at the sink in front of the mirror, and decided to play it safe and entered a stall, shutting and locking the door behind him. He unbuttoned the top three buttons of his shirt after loosening his tie. He held the hair out from his body and snipped it, as close to the skin as he dared to go. He returned Leah's scissors, and then returned to work.

*

The first time Kevin had seen Holly cry had been two weeks after they had starting dating. He had just moved into an apartment with his best friend, and was heading out to work. He still worked at the grocery store, though Holly
had been gone for about a month at that point. As he turned the corner from the front of the building and into the parking lot he saw her, parked in her red Ford Escort, a little too close to one line in the first spot. He couldn't help but smile as he approached the driver side window. The smile faded from his face as he bent down to look in at her. Tears rolled down her cheek, a miniature flood. Snot dripped down across her lips. She saw him watching her and started crying harder. He reached to open her door but she locked it. He knocked on the window, settled on his haunches, both hands braced against the car door. “Holly. What's wrong?” he called through the glass. Holly shook her head. “Somethings wrong. You're crying.”
“Leave me alone.” Holly spoke now, through the window. “It's nothing.” She reached forward and turned the keys, which were hanging from the ignition. Kevin stood and ran around behind the car, going for the passenger door. Holly leaned over to press the lock down but was too late. Kevin opened the door and lowered himself into the passenger seat.
“Talk to me.” He looked over to her, watching as she turned the keys back, cutting off the engine. She sniffed, trying to keep from crying.
“I was coming to see you.”
“And here you are.” Kevin smiled.
“And when I got here, I just.” Holly started crying harder, having to take huge gulps of air, causing her to cough. “And When I got here I just started to feel the way I do.”
“What do you mean?” Kevin reached across the seats, grabbing Holly's hand in his own.
“I just, don't work right. My head. My brain. I'm sad.”
“About what?”
“Everything.”
“Why?”
“I don't know. I always am.”
Kevin was unsure of what to say, so he stayed quiet. Holly slowly got her crying under control, until it was just a lonely slow drip from a leaky faucet. Kevin opened the glove box, looking for napkins or a Kleenex.
“I don't have anything.” Holly knew what he was after, leaning back in her chair and watching him. Kevin slid his sweat shirt off and turned in his chair, using the sleeve to wipe below her eyes. It made Holly laugh. He switched to the other sleeve to wipe the snot from her face. “I'm sorry you have to see this. See me.”
“Are you kidding? You look great.” Kevin smiled, though not far beneath the surface, finding Holly like this scared him. It made him uncomfortable, and for the rest of their long relationship, every time she was crying again, every time they were fighting for no reason, he would wonder why he didn't get out that day, so early in their life together.

Kevin bumped his front door open with his hip, holding a fast food bag in one hand and a cup in the other. He moved into the living room, dumping his dinner on the coffee table. He kicked off his shoes, pushing them under the table with his toes. A quick glance for the remote before it was in his hand and he plopped down on the couch. He ate leaning forward, over the table, watching a rerun of a sitcom canceled ten years ago.
“What the fuck.” Kevin stood in his boxers beside his bed. He was looking down at his chest. The hair was back. The hair that he had cut just this afternoon. It was back, as long as ever. Black and course, curling over a few times. Kevin let his fingers slide along the familiar hair, finally gripping at it and pulling. The hair wouldn't budge, and his skin rose in a pyramid behind it. Kevin kept pulling. The hair began to move. It didn't suddenly spring free from a pore like most plucked hairs. It slid out of his skin, a millimeter at a time as he pulled. Kevin had to grit his teeth, the pain was so great. He kept pulling. Finally his hand fell away from the hair and he fell sideways onto the bed, his face red and sweaty from the pain. He rolled onto his back and looked down. The hair was sticking six inches from his chest. As he watched, the hair seemed to move. It took him a minute to realize the hair was bumping up with every beat of his heart. His pulse was quick from the exertion of battling with the hair. Kevin had to take deep breaths and calm himself. He stood and went into the kitchen, pulling black scissors from a block of wood with the steak knives. When Kevin snipped the hair at the base of his chest, he thought he had nicked his skin. He checked and found that he hadn't. It had been the hair. The hair had hurt when he cut it.

*

The next day was Friday, and it took everything Kevin had to drag himself out of bed in the morning. He cut the hair again that morning, and again it felt like cutting a piece of skin from his body. Around three-thirty it came as no surprise to find the hair had grown back. He was sitting at his desk, the hair curled around his forefinger and slowly he pulled it. It grew and grew. He lost his grip, his hand sliding away from the hair. Without looking he prodded his chest, attempting to locate the hair. The tips of his fingers found something wet. His hand retreated from his shirt, and his mouth fell open when he saw the blood. His
fingertips were red and shiny, as if they had been pressed into a bottle of nail polish. Kevin pushed away from his desk, spinning in his chair and standing, facing the window. He unbuttoned his shirt a few buttons and pulled the fabric from his chest. He saw the hair, and at the base, where it entered his skin, a little pool of blood. Already a scarlet spot had begun growing on the front of his shirt. He turned back to his desk and grabbed a tissue from the box, blotting the blood away. He looked down into his shirt, chewing on his bottom lip as he did so. The hair was longer than it had ever been from his pulling, and at the base, the black coarseness gave way to a slick pinkish finish. Kevin slid one fingertip along the hair where it was pink and glistening. Beneath the pad of his finger, the hair jumped in rhythm with his heart.
“Hey, you okay?” Kevin looked up, startled to see Leah standing in his doorway.
“What? Yeah.” Kevin hastily pulled his hand from his shirt.
“Good. So, you promised to come out tonight, with the group.” She smiled softly.

*

Kevin and Holly got married after dating for four years. Although neither of them were what you could call religious, they tied the knot in a grand, old Catholic Church. When Holly started down the aisle, tears immediately stung Kevin's eyes. She was beautiful. Her dress was white and flowed behind her, framed in the light of the open door, making her look like an angel descending from heaven just for him. Her father was a small man with a walrus like mustache, and he was crying as he walked arm in arm with his daughter. Holly didn't cry, and a part of Kevin would always feel a twinge of bitterness eating at his stomach when he thought of this. She cried so often, and for no reason, but it was always because of sadness. In the ten years he knew her, not once did she cry from happiness.

Kevin sat next to Leah at the end of a square bar in the middle of the local Applebees. Their coworkers took up the whole side, and around the corner, half of another. A beer sat in front of Kevin, though he wasn't much of a drinker, and it remained half full long after Leah had gone on to her third jack and coke. She turned and spoke. “You
can leave, if you want. I just thought it'd be nice for you. To be here.”
Kevin regarded her for a second, taking an opportune drink of Bud Light. “What? No, I'm having fun.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.” Kevin turned on his stool, facing her more. “It's nice to be out.”
“Yeah, I thought it might do you some good. But really, you know, don't stay because of my feelings.” Leah offered a small smile. “I worry about you.”
“Yeah.”
“I'm sure it's all been tough.”
“Yeah.”
“And you know, I know it hasn't been long.”
“It's been hours.” Kevin sighed. “Feels like that anyways.”
“Yeah.” Leah reached over and placed her hand on top of Kevin's. “You're a great guy. And you're wife loved you.”
Kevin let his eyes drop, studying the bar top without seeing. Throughout his time here at the restaurant, he was aware of the hair, pressing against his shirt, thumping softly along with his heart. “No, she didn't.” Kevin forced himself to curl his lips into a sad smile, and pushed away from the bar, standing. He wasn't aware of the hair as he
walked out.

*

Holly and Kevin spent their honeymoon in Hawaii. They were there a week, and the first five days were a wonderful mix of sand, surf, and sex. On the sixth day Holly exploded, a bomb of emotions and tears. Kevin would never figure out what had set her off, or what sustained the tears. She yelled at him, her words hardly recognizable between sobs. She hit herself, her hand open wide, the palms of her hand stinging her cheeks, leaving flashes of red on her skin. He had jumped across the bed when she did this, grabbing each of her wrists and pulling her hands away from her. “What the fuck are you doing?”
It was the only time, out of her many episodes, that he had yelled at her. When they got off the plane, back in Ohio, Holly had soft purple bruises on her wrists, man made bracelets they never spoke of. Kevin would never forget them, long after they faded.
After leaving the restaurant, Kevin drove aimlessly, in the general direction of his house, but taking less care of where he was than even Columbus had. He thought of their honey moon, the good times. The times in bed, laughing as they lay together, moaning each others names as they made love.

*

The next morning Kevin stood in front of the sink, looking at that damned hair reflected back to him. He twirled the hair around his finger and started pulling, as soon as the hair had budged, blood began seeping from the pore. His jaw tight, Kevin continued to pull. More and more of the hair came out, and it became easier to pull. Everything that slid from the skin was the same slick red he had seen earlier. It wasn't hair anymore. Kevin uncurled the hair from his finger and pressed a wad of toilet paper to his chest, soaking up the blood. He dropped the wad into the toilet, here the blood was pulled from the paper, spiraling out like food coloring. Chin pressed to his body, Kevin examined the hair. It was sticking out almost ten inches. The last three inches, closest to his skin was red and shiny with blood, which continued to seep from beneath the hair. Kevin unrolled a few more sheets of toilet paper and held it against his chest and left the bathroom.

*

It was a Tuesday when Holly had left for work, waited thirty minutes a block away and returned home after Kevin had gone. She stood just inside the front door, fat tears rolled down her cheeks, leaving wet pathways like snails. Holly shrugged her jacket off and let it fall to the floor. She stepped out of her shoes and moved into the kitchen. Bracing herself against a counter with one hand, she pulled off her stockings, and unzipped the pencil skirt she wore, dropping it and stepping out. Looking back at it, she thought it looked like a wreath. Kevin had always been fond of both stockings and skirts. She loved him, and had a lot sooner than he had loved her. Holly unbuttoned her blouse with shaking hands, tossing it back onto the skirt. She stood for a second, looking out of the kitchen window and into the back yard. The grass was a little long, Kevin hated to mow. She stood in her bra, thinking of him. Then she unclipped that and opened the cellar door.

In the basement, Holly stood on an old ottoman, part of a living room set given to them when they had first bought this house by his parents. Kevin saw his parents often, and spoke to them on the phone even more. Holly tried to remember the last time she spoke to her mother or father. She couldn't. Around Holly's neck, an extension cord, tied to a rafter. Holly continued to weep, the tears reflecting soft light forcing it's way through the frosted tiny window at ground level across from her. Out the window, a blurred vision of her car. Would Kevin have to pay the car off? Or could he just return it. Holly wondered. She stepped forward, off of the ottoman. Her spine didn't break, but within minutes she had choked to death, urine running hot down the inside of her thighs. What Kevin would do with her car was the last thing that ever went through her mind.

*

Kevin stood in his bathroom once more, looking into the mirror, holding the kitchen scissors in his right hand. He was completely nude, and the toilet paper he held against his chest was void of any white. Kevin let the paper fall into the toilet, spreading more red into the water as it sank. He flushed the toilet without taking his eyes from the mirror, from the hair. A few fingers on his left hand found the hair, the string, and he was startled at how strong the rhythmic thumping was. Especially on the moist, red section of the hair. Kevin held the hair out, and pressed it between the open blades of the scissors. He took three sharp breaths, and pressed the handles together. He let out an ear splitting shriek, dropping the scissors and the long piece of hair to the sink below. Blood gushed forth from the little nub of the hair left, splashing down on top of the scissors, and into the bowl of the sink.
“Oh my god!” Kevin spoke aloud, leaning forward, two hands braced on the porcelain of the sink, slick with scarlet blood. His arms shaking, Kevin reached to the wall with one hand, grabbing a towel from the rack. He held the green terry to his chest. “Oh god. Oh god.” It's all Kevin could think to say. He stepped back out of the bathroom and into the hall. He hit the wall behind him and slid down it. He pressed the towel tight against his body, and it grew heavy as it absorbed what it could. Kevin slid sideways along the wall, his head resting on the floor. He could just see inside the bathroom, where blood ran along the cracks between tiles. It reminded Kevin of something.

*

When Kevin got home, the front door ran over Holly's jacket and skidded to a stop. He slid in though the half open entrance and spent a minute pulling the jacket carefully from beneath the door. “Honey?” He peeked into the living room, tossing her jacket onto the back of the couch. “Holly? Baby, you here?” Of course she was, he car was outside. Kevin headed down the hallway, and knew what he was going to find as soon as he saw her clothes laying on the linoleum. In a way, he had always been preparing for this moment. There wasn't many other things to expect from someone as depressed as Holly. He went into their bedroom, his breath caught in his chest, his eyes half shut. She wasn't in there. It wasn't until he had exhausted all the other possibilities that he approached the basement door.
He was on his knees in front of her for a long time before he called the cops. He knelt, crying, struggling to breathe, unable to look at her, so they focused on the dried pool of urine, some of it had filled a crack in the cement. His wife was dead. She had left him. She had not left a note.

*

Kevin awoke, still on his side in the hallway. He shifted, onto his back and away from the wall. He gripped the towel and pulled, wincing as it stuck to his chest in the dried blood, tearing regular hair from his body when he ripped it away. Kevin raised his head from the ground and looked a t his chest. Flaky dried blood coated it, and in the middle, one lone tree in a red sea, the hair rose about three inches. It was completely red, and pulsated visibly to the eye.
Kevin crawled into his bathroom, hands and knees cracking the spots of dried blood on the floor. From the small bathroom window, the bright dawn of Saturday illuminated the room. Kevin pulled himself into the bathtub, laying on his back, one leg up and hanging out. He grabbed at the hair and pulled. “Get out of me!” Kevin screamed as the hair slid easily, soon he had a foot of it dangling from his chest. “Get out!” Kevin continued to pull, despite the pain. He pulled and pulled, and the string came easily. Blood poured from beneath it, and began to collect in the tub. Kevin gritted his teeth together and pulled. It badly, but of all people, Kevin knew that even when you hurt, you had to keep going. He pulled, one hand over another, tight fists squeezing the string, each beat of the string reverberated through the string, and into his palms. He puled and pulled, the length already out of his body coiling like a rope between his legs. Kevin was screaming without knowing it. Suddenly, the hair snagged on his kin, and he stopped pulling. Kevin wrapped both hands around the string, braced himself with a big breath, and pulled with all his might. His skin stretched, the hair refused to budge. Then, finally, it broke free of his chest. It beat feebly in his hand, a few dying pumps. Then it quit beating. His heart lay unraveled in the tub with him. Kevin died like his wife did. From his own hand. Naked. Alone.



The End

Hm...a short story by Thundermatts? This is intresting-I'll bookmark this for later.

story jumps around a lot. So she died from his hand? He beat her? I don't recall him hurting her?
sorry just lost me.

lol.

Okay, I went through and made sure i had posted it in the right order, I did. But anywho, sorry a few flashbacks threw you off, thanks for taking the time to read it though!

wait..so can you explain if i am on the right track

No. You're so far off the right track I don't see how I could lead you back to it. Quite a few people have read this, and to my knowledge you were the only person to have an troubles with it. The parts with the hair are "current", the rest is a series of flashbacks that shed some light on Kevina nd HOlly's relationship, and her death.

right i get that
but how does he die like his wife?
alone naked ,but by his hand?

Ohhhhhhh! I'll Pm you, so I don't spoil for anyone not done yet.

bumpity bump bump