-Dead? What do you mean she's dead? WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN?
The baby started crying in the room, awaken by his father's screams. The midwife ushered him outside the room into the kitchen where there was a pot of water boiling, and lots of blood stained linen clothes. The table was covered with them, and with other several things he didn't even know what they were. In a fit he threw everything on the floor. Facing the midwife he told her, his anger flowing from every pore:
-This is all your fault. You will pay for it.
The midwife stepped back towards the coal stove, scared.
-You killed my wife.
-Mister, I,... the delivery,... it is complicated,...
She couldn't finish the sentence, as he slapped her across the face.
-Stupid woman! You had one job!
He, next, took the pot with boiling water and poured it over the midwife. Her skin hissed in contact with the hot water, sprouting fiery red blisters, it started smelling like charred meat. She had tried to fight it, but ended up losing consciousness. His anger was still blinding him, the only thing he could see was the woman who was responsible for the death of his beloved wife, a servant on top of that, she was trash, she didn't deserve to live. He grabbed a chair and hit her until the chair broke to pieces. The midwife lay on the floor, her limbs broken, her skin burnt, barely clinging to life. He stopped and looked at her, then he carried her as one would carry a potato sack and threw her outside the front door. Some neighbors stopped to watch, so he shouted so everyone could hear.
-This woman killed my wife, and she deserved this.- and after that he slammed the door behind him to mourn his beloved wife.
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