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My Janet

I put the tape in the VCR, then sat down on the floor in front of the TV. I stared at the blue screen for a minute, then I pressed play on the remote. There she was. My Janet. This was the last of the videos, so I had saved it until I could wait no longer to see her face. Only when the pain of being without her became so strong that I couldn't take it did I sit down with the only remaining unseen footage of my love.
On the screen was a bedroom. It was a simple room. Janet always did like to keep things simple. A queen size bed sat in one corner, with a plain blue comforter neatly covering the mattress. Four pillows lay in two stacks of two at the head of the bed. At the foot, there was a lighter blanket she used on warmer nights. On the wall opposite the head of the bed was a plain dresser with a TV. Against the remaining wall was a desk. This was where my Janet worked. She was a writer. That's how we met. I went to one of her book signings, and we fell in love. There was nothing on the floor in the room. My Janet was very tidy. The only hint that someone actually lived in the room was the cork board on the wall above the desk. This was where she pinned important things: reviews of her novels, recent newspaper articles of interest, to-do lists. If it weren't for those items, one might think this was a spare room.
It was not a spare room, however. My Janet sat at her desk, typing furiously at her typewriter. She was working on her last novel. She didn't know it was going to be her last novel at the time, but it was. And it was all her fault. It was all because of him.
Three nights before, Janet had not been alone in her room. A man had come in with her. They had done things together that my Janet had no right to do with any other man. She was mine.
The next night, I approached her about it. She claimed she didn't know me. She wanted to know how I knew about the man. I told her she had no right. How could she do this to me? When she had signed my book, we made a connection. She told me I was sweet. We fell in love. I only put the cameras in her apartment so I could see her more often.
I tried to tell her this, but she didn't want to listen. When she heard about the camera, she got upset. She said she was going to tell the police. At that point, there was nothing else I could do. She tried to run away, so I had to grab her. I brought her back to my apartment. I put her in bed; I wanted to take care of her. She just wouldn't stop screaming. I covered her mouth to try to keep her quiet. Finally, the screaming stopped. I took my hand from her mouth to kiss her, to thank her for trusting me. She just ignored me. After all we'd been through. This made me angry. I didn't mean to hurt her, but she just laid there. I smacked her. I yelled at her. She wouldn't move. I lost it.
I'm not sure exactly what happened after that. The next thing I knew, I was in my bathroom. I was washing blood off my hands. I tried to find a cut, I couldn't. I don't know where the blood came from. Remembering my Janet, I ran back into the bedroom, but she wasn't there. I think she ran away. Now all I have left are my tapes.
I just wish she'd come back to me. I don't know what I did wrong.

2114 6/29/08

Alphabet

Shawn had a problem. Every time he heard the word "alphabet," he went into a fit of rage. You may think this is no big deal. I mean, how often does one actually hear the word, "alphabet," anyway? Well, Shawn was a kindergarten teacher, so for him, the answer to that question was, "a lot." While the rage didn't last long, he lost all control during the outbursts. Unfortunately for him, his problem didn't develop