The Fridge.

They say death makes us narcissistic. Selfishly thinking about our own morality under the pretense of grieving for someone else, when will I be next?

The thought played like a loop in my mind as I stood there in our brand-new kitchen and stared into the refrigerator. One hand held the door open, gripping it so tightly my knuckles started to resemble our sparkly white cabinets. The other was clutching my abdomen. Baby pink nails curled around a silky ivory dress in hopes of quelling the contents of my stomach to stay there.

A decapitated head cut at the neck and completely drained of blood, was squeezed between day-old food in Tupperware and rotting vegetables. 

It's funny. Movies always show women screaming hysterically when they stumble upon something horrific. Eyes bulging, tears streaming, veins popping.

I stayed silent. Too stunned to react. My mouth frozen open in shock, a scream stuck somewhere deep in my throat, unable to climb out. Dry eyes blinked owlishly as I processed it. 

The woman's ashy face was frozen in terror, much like mine was right now. Red hair was matted to her face, and a few pieces of blonde stuck out like gruesome hi-lights. Her lifeless blue eyes were glazed over and gazed right through me, an expression of extreme boredom reserved for classrooms. A large red mouth was stretched into a silent O, a scream dead on her tongue, and curled inwards. Her teeth were removed. 

As gruesome as the sight was, I couldn't help but notice...she looked a lot like me. If looks could kill…

I finally found my voice and screamed. My voice was shrill at first, superficial, the perfect Final Girl scream. I gulped in more air, my mouth going dry, and screamed again. This time it was much hoarser, more guttural, coming from a place deep within. My vocal cords strained as they cracked on a jagged note before giving out completely and joining the stranger in my fridge in silence.

I blinked my eyes furiously. 

As a kid I suffered from chronic nightmares, nightmares so vivid I thought they were actually happening. One night they were so bad I actually screamed out loud. I was jostled out of it, my teary eyes blinking open to see my mother’s exhausted face looking down at me. See, it was only a dream, open your eyes and it’s gone. She smiled and I went back to sleep.

I blinked harder. I even tried pinching myself. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't wake myself out of this nightmare. 

Maybe you imagined it? I tried to soothe my mind. Maybe it was something else, a decaying head of cabbage? I do have an overactive imagination…

Oh, who am I kidding? I know what I saw. No amount of self-gaslighting was going to change that. And I certainly couldn’t bring myself to open the fridge and prove otherwise. 

I slammed the door shut and focused my gaze out the window to my left. The sky was darkening. I needed to hurry. Everyone would be here soon. 

Deep breaths, you can do this. I straightened my spine and thought back to earlier today.

I raced home early to get everything ready. All of our closest friends were going to be arriving later to surprise him. A party for my husband’s 50th. Who knew he'd be the one to surprise me instead. I even drove 40 minutes out to his favorite bakery and got him his favorite cake: red velvet with white buttercream frosting. 

I look over to the cake resting on the large marble island. I needed to put it in the fridge before the frosting melted. Where the hell would it go? The fridge was already stuffed, the space I had carved out the night before was now occupied by a corpse-less head. What did he do with the body? I paused.

The thought was so bizarre, a human head sitting in my fridge, no one would believe me. Hell, I didn't even believe myself right now. 

And before I knew it, I was laughing. Salty tears of joy ran down my face, the whole thing was so ridiculous. My husband. A psychotic killer. A human guillotine. Leaving as quickly as it came, the laughter morphed into shaky sobs. My body shook violently as I cried. Crying for the warm cake I drove out of my way to get, crying because I had no idea what to do now, crying for the stranger decaying in my brand-new fridge. 

Get yourself together, you idiot, you can do this.

Exhaling slowly, I ran my fingers through my hair, stopping at the top and clutching the long, blonde tresses so tightly my vision blackened and I saw stars. I gasped sharply from the pain and started to calm down. Focus on the pain. Focus on your breath. Inhale, exhale.

“Honey, I'm home!” He bellowed from the foyer and I jumped out of my skin at the loud intrusion. The door slammed shut, rattling the windows. It would take him about 45 seconds to get here. I had to get myself together. 

Keys jingled as they landed in the metal bowl by the door. He’s probably sifting through the mail now. 

Steadying myself on shaky legs, I took a wobbly step forward and almost broke my ankle in the process. Twisting away from me and folding like a cheap lawn chair, any more pressure and it would have snapped. I hissed in pain, a whistle of air escaping through clenched teeth. Teeth. I looked back at the fridge. What did he do with them? 

“Where are you?” He sang the words like a child, the syllables going up and down melodically. 

I reached down and slipped my black leather heels off, the tiles were a cool relief as I gently placed my feet down. I hugged the stilettos to my chest and made a run for it. My numb feet groaned as I crossed the kitchen on my tippy toes. I held my breath, passing by the contaminated fridge, and released it when I crossed the threshold.

“There you are!” He exclaimed as he entered the kitchen. I froze, one leg in the hallway and one in the kitchen. Quickly bringing my hand up, I brushed the evidence of tears from my face and turned around. “God, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

“Ha!” I replied flatly, a watery smile on my face. If only you knew…

“No offense, darling, but you should freshen up before everyone gets here.” He mistakes the look of panic on my face for something else and rushes to explain himself. “I mean, you did a great job planning everything! Don’t beat yourself up about me finding out about the party, it’s the thought that counts.” He grinned and winked. 

Does he really think I'm upset that he found out about a surprise party? I bit my lip to stop myself from laughing, the party is the last thing on my mind right now.

“It’s fine, I’m gonna…” I trailed off, gesturing vaguely at the powder room behind me to freshen up. 

“Of course, I’ll let you get to it.” He dismisses me, turning his attention to his phone now. “Maybe I’ll clean up in the meantime, how about that?” He looked around the spotless kitchen.

I decided to play dumb and went along. “That would be wonderful” I smiled gratefully. 

I stop myself from running to the powder room and try to walk at a normal pace, once inside I locked the door and flicked on the lights. I made my way over to the mirror and assessed the damage.

Blue eyes, now red and puffy stared back. Luckily my waterproof mascara stayed true to its word and has barely smudged. My hair on the other hand…looked like a nest. I throw it up in a messy bun.

Overall, I looked okay. I looked like someone who had a tough day at work, not someone who came home to find another woman’s head in the fridge. 

I exhaled slowly, my red lips forming a small O. My lipstick didn't smudge either. I turned the lock, the sound echoing loudly and tentatively stepped out. The sound of the shower running upstairs eases some of the tension in my shoulders and I let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding. 

I walked back to the kitchen and bolted to the other side, the marble countertop now a buffer between me and the fridge. My eyes zeroed in on the cake, sitting ominously in its plastic box. The lid now skewed to the left, he must have had a taste. Bastard. 

I pulled the cake toward me and pressed down hard on the plastic to seal it back up. My eyes focused and saw red peeking out of the pristine white frosting like a fresh wound. A gaping mouth. Bile rushed up my throat when I thought about the resemblance. 

Ring! Ring!

The doorbell trills and I jump three feet up in the air. My poor nerves are so frayed at this point that everything sounded louder, more intense, a threat. I clutched my hand over my beating chest, my soul felt like it left my body. 

I jumped again and yelped loudly when I felt an arm snake around my waist. If he doesn’t kill me, my heart certainly will. I brought my shaky hand to my mouth as an afterthought to quiet myself. 

“Whoa! Relax, jumpy.” He pressed my back to his front. “It’s just the doorbell. Want me to get it?” He murmured in my ear, his spicy aftershave overwhelming and nauseating my senses.

I cleared my throat, my voice hollow, “I’ll get it, you go relax. You’re the birthday boy after all.” I turned around, his arms still around me, a stiff smile on my face. He shrugged and kissed my temple, releasing his hold on me. I walked into the foyer to let everyone in. 

His friends and coworkers ushered in, all smiles and cheers. Gifts were thrust in my hand and I toppled over with their weight. I caught myself and guided them toward the kitchen. The gifts landed on the countertop haphazardly, nearly knocking the cake over. 

“Easy! Why isn't this in the fridge? It's almost melting.” A frail brunette, my mind blanking on her name, frowned as she addressed me.

She picks up the cake gingerly from the edge and cradles it like a baby. A thin brow is raised as she continues to look at me, waiting for an answer, I open my mouth to provide her with one but find my voice missing again.

She shakes her head disapprovingly and turns to open the fridge.

“No! Don’t! There’s a head in there!” I screamed so loudly I startled her into dropping the cake. 

Everyone stops their conversations to look at us.

She scowls at me and bends down to pick up the ruined cake. She flips it over, the icing on top smeared all over the plastic lid. It's salvageable. I breathe out a sigh of relief.

She turns to the fridge again. 

“Please, don’t.” I plead, on the verge of tears. She ignores me and opens the fridge anyway.

The blood drains from my face. The head was gone. Disappeared. A mangled mess of red and white sat in its place instead. 

I looked around, as if expecting it to be sitting somewhere in the kitchen. Where did it go? Did he toss it out in the garbage?

A heavy arm drapes around my shoulder and my body buckles under the weight. I turn and raise my glassy eyes to look at him.

He grins, a doting husband, and lowers his head to whisper in my ear. “Thanks for the party, honey. We’ll celebrate properly later.” 

The fridge slammed shut.