Tears began to well up in my eyes as I scrubbed the splashed blood on my wall and on the floor. For the first time since the incident, I felt sober. It felt real. I did not fight the tears this time, I just allowed it flow effortlessly. My hand was filled with blood, and my heart raced like a car without an engine. I was not scared. No, I wasn’t or was I? I didn’t know, I still don’t know. I didn’t plan to kill her, but, I didn’t want her to be alive anymore. She was my best friend. I killed her.
I looked at her lifeless body on the floor and I knew I needed to allow the emotions flow without restrictions. I burst into uncontrollable tears as the different pictures flashed through my head. Since the first day I saw it, I had tried to push away these thoughts everyday, but the harder I tried, the deeper it penetrated. It has gradually become a monster that will haunt me all my life. You know what I saw? I saw him open her legs and dived inside her with so much ecstacy. She grapped his buttocks and twisted her legs in pleasure as he dived in and out of her passionately. Then, he possessed her breasts like the authority of its verocity and she moved to the rythm of his body like a queen sucumming to the orders of her king. He grabbed her hair, flipped her over like the Lord of her body and she collapsed into the bed like his slave. He pretended to pull out and pulled her leg over his shoulders and just like it was a usual routine, her haven gave way to his already erect essence and now, he possessed her body. He was the king. It was a rare pleasure I never enjoyed, but, she had it all, she always had it. I saw them not once, not twice. She was the queen of his kingdom of pleasure.
I snapped out of the erotic but hurting pleasure. I was wet, It felt like I was the one inside him. Suddenly, I felt a pierce in my heart, and it brought back one memory. The one memory that has become my one monster. I saw her, I saw them, but, I couldn’t figure out the conversation. I just remember one thing, she said she calls the shot and he had no right to end it. Then, she did the unbelievable, she picked the flower vase on the bed side table and slammed it on him. He fell to the ground and hit his head against the tiles, he was bleeding profusely and she began to panic. I was broken to pieces as I saw him wriggle in pain. Without thinking, I rushed into the room and he could almost guess nothing was a secret to me anymore. I knew so much.
“I am sorry” he said and breathed his last.
He was my husband, She killed him.
I bent over my husband and felt his body go cold. I picked a part of the broken vase and my hands were shivering in anger.
She moved away from me with pleading eyes, she didn’t know what to say or do. She didn’t bother to explain, she just turned to run away from me, but, I was too fast for her. A demon possessed me and I rushed to her in split seconds, stabbing her with the very vase she used to kill my husband and on the same spot.
I sit here with the lifeless bodies of the two people who meant the world to me. The same duo who have betrayed me unapologetically. This is not me, I am not a murderer. I know I am not. I couldn’t have murdered a woman I have loved with my life. I can’t place it. Someone should.
I hear a sirene. Should I run? Should I wait? My life is about to be a lesson. It is about to teach people that murder is never a solution to bitterness. I know I will die one day, maybe murdered like I did to her.
Till then, allow me to live the rest of my life in misery.
I’ll take a last glance at her before I am arrested.
She was my mother. I killed her.