A Suburban Masterpiece
Secrets
To the outside, nothing ever really happened in my neighborhood. It was just a quiet, normal, suburban community. At least, that’s what most people thought. But hiding behind their average, simple-colored doors, people had secrets. They had things they didn’t what others to know.
Take Mr. Hendrickson down the street. He worked at the local real estate agency, and received a normal paycheck every two weeks. He was married, had no kids, but he had a dog. I remember his wife as being very pretty, with golden hair and clear blue eyes. I never really liked her though. She was kind of annoying, and always rubbed me the wrong way. In all honesty, I didn’t like her husband that much either.
When it was really late at night, and if everything was quiet, you could hear the screaming coming from the house. Once in a while you’d hear something break, or be thrown. To a certain extent, I felt bad for both of them.
I was there that day when the police came.
I watched them wheel her out.
I don’t really know how it happened, or why it happened for that matter, I just heard it all. I heard the screaming, the yelling, all the names they called each other. Maybe it started out with a slap, or a punch, and it escalated. I just heard crashes, and shouting.
Around midnight it all went silent.
The next morning, police were flooded all over the street, an ambulance parked at the curb. A gurney came out of the house, a still form strapped onto it. I had half a hunch it Mrs. Hendrickson, and an even worse feeling that she was dead. Her hand fell from the gurney and hung limp at her side.
Her husband was being carted out of the house, his hands cuffed behind his back. A police officer was leading him towards a parked cop car, and he was stuffed inside. There was a crackle from their radios, and another van pulled up. A crew with the letters ‘CSI’ on the back of their jackets took over, and some of the cops drove off.
By that point I was sitting on our front steps, watching all of it unfold. One car drove by, and through the window, Mr. Hendrickson looked directly at me. His eyes bore into me with a certainty that scared me. He didn’t look remorseful at all.
Like I said, people in suburbia? They have secrets.
Take Mr. Hendrickson down the street. He worked at the local real estate agency, and received a normal paycheck every two weeks. He was married, had no kids, but he had a dog. I remember his wife as being very pretty, with golden hair and clear blue eyes. I never really liked her though. She was kind of annoying, and always rubbed me the wrong way. In all honesty, I didn’t like her husband that much either.
When it was really late at night, and if everything was quiet, you could hear the screaming coming from the house. Once in a while you’d hear something break, or be thrown. To a certain extent, I felt bad for both of them.
I was there that day when the police came.
I watched them wheel her out.
I don’t really know how it happened, or why it happened for that matter, I just heard it all. I heard the screaming, the yelling, all the names they called each other. Maybe it started out with a slap, or a punch, and it escalated. I just heard crashes, and shouting.
Around midnight it all went silent.
The next morning, police were flooded all over the street, an ambulance parked at the curb. A gurney came out of the house, a still form strapped onto it. I had half a hunch it Mrs. Hendrickson, and an even worse feeling that she was dead. Her hand fell from the gurney and hung limp at her side.
Her husband was being carted out of the house, his hands cuffed behind his back. A police officer was leading him towards a parked cop car, and he was stuffed inside. There was a crackle from their radios, and another van pulled up. A crew with the letters ‘CSI’ on the back of their jackets took over, and some of the cops drove off.
By that point I was sitting on our front steps, watching all of it unfold. One car drove by, and through the window, Mr. Hendrickson looked directly at me. His eyes bore into me with a certainty that scared me. He didn’t look remorseful at all.
Like I said, people in suburbia? They have secrets.