Plotting, by Kiri Winder

Slamming my head on the table, I needed to write. I heard my coffee become a tsunami trapped in a porcelain cup while I pleaded with my mind. 

Get your revenge. Get your revenge. 

The words she had written weren’t a whisper; it was screamed into my ear. My blood began to boil from her heated breath. Finding the way out could only be done by breaking walls now; I had lost the war with this maze. 

I remember the words rotting my brain when everyone told me I shouldn’t break the walls. I shouldn’t escape. She threw me in, and it would be wrong of me to destroy the cage she trapped me in because she made it just for me. Being told to be quiet hurt just as much as the shackles that were put on too tightly. 

Expose her. Tell everyone her unfaithfulness. 

The plan to ruin her life was thick like honey. Maybe it was too sweet for me. Perhaps I wanted to sting before I drop dead. I don’t know anymore. It’s been years, and I feel crystallised in my own regrets now. 

I stare at her poetry. Baked hearts and red wine, she called it. She’s a smashed bottle, but she’s the one who smashed it. She ran the bakery, but she was the one who burnt it down. I was the one who put it back together again. 

My mind is decayed, my coffee is cold. What’s the point? I’ve been called worse things by better people. She can call herself the victim of her own manipulations, like the boy who cried wolf. I’ll just get another coffee, but I’ll put it in a flask next time. 

The walls have cracked. I’ve made a start.

About the author:

Kiri is an English Literature PhD student specialising in children’s literature. Prior to this, she completed an MA in creative writing where her interest in poetry began. Her writing is usually focused on nature and academia, but she has plans to expand her writing to other areas in the future.