One Hundred Forty-Two
One hundred forty-two. That's how many ways I could do it. No one would ever know... No one would probably even care. He deserves it... for all the lies... for all the things he has put me through.
He has asked for it many times before--in more ways than one. For months, I've been thinking of ways to go about it. And tonight, I think I will finally go through with it... I'll--kill him.
He's just pulling in, now. It's ten... typical.
It's no secret that he's cheating on me. He never put such a high priority on staying late before gathering enough revenue to afford a personal assistant. Wendii... What kind of got-damn lunatic spells "Wendy" with two I's?
Not too long after, the long nights and excuses began.
"I'm just so eager to close out these business deals," he would tell me. "I don't want old business greeting me at the door when I come back to the job the next day," he would say.
And, I believed him. Damn... Well, at least he had the courtesy to lie to me.
Either way, I've been the butt-end of a very bad joke for far too long, now. No more.
I already know what I'll do. But what he'll do, I have no clue. I'll have to play puppet to his "dangling strings" yet again and hope that he'll respond in the manner I want him to.
I glared down upon him out of the upstairs bedroom window, watching like a hawk as he climbed out of his car, staggering like a drunken idiot at first. Then, he straightened up his suit regained some composure.
A deep, rasp "damn him" escaped my lips. I cupped my mouth in surprise at the sound of my own voice, hoarse with hate.
He walked towards the house, running his thick fingers through his dark hair as he walked. Once he reached the door and opened it, I hurried down the winding stairs to greet him.
He looked up at me, a wry smile forming--almost innocently--upon his otherwise vacant face.
He said nothing and moved forward, pulling me close to his chest as he always does. He doesn't usually kiss me, but tonight he did.
It was so shocking that for a moment, I doubted myself... I doubted my plan. But once he released me and removed his jacket, my mind quickly reverted.
There was lipstick--Wendii's lipstick, I suppose--lightly pressed against his crisp, white collar. Is the whore so cheap that she can't afford non-stain lipstick? No... she enjoys leaving obvious evidence for me to find. And, so does he.
For a moment, I clenched my fists together, then the anger quickly subsided. Something else was keeping my anger at bay: the prospect that I'd be able to release it all at once... soon.--
I managed to keep his dinner hot and waiting, despite the late hour. And, Richard seemingly appreciated the effort.
We stared across the table at one another, both exchanging ravenous looks.
I was starved with obsession and hungry for a kill... And, I was getting closer and closer to doing it...
He ate his fill, which wasn't much, and suddenly stood at the table. I decided to follow his lead and put my utensils down. Besides, it's either now or nev--
I stood quickly when he approached me, my eyes lying, hoping that he'd deduce that I actually wanted to--no--needed to lay with him. And, he believed me.
Step one: Complete. *
The mongrel still smelled of her, and he could tell that I suspected her scent--but, he didn't care. He felt some sort of high from being so--so close to being caught. He got off on it--
I could feel it in his arms tightening around me... I could taste the thrill of wrecklessness on his lips.
He pinned me to the bed, wanting me to flinch--waiting, staring down at me. His wide eyes squinted inquisitively.
I knew what he was thinking... what he was expecting. He wondered if I would plead to him about seeing another woman... He wondered if I would beg him not to love anyone other than me and vainly accept his apologies, whilst he plans to lay with her once again.
I didn't dare.
Instead, I pretended to be the woman that I was twelve years ago. Helplessly in love... so incredibly oblivious... so stupid.
I pretended that he has always been faithful to me...
I whipped my hair forwards and back; I bit my lip whenever he tugged my hair; I let him whisper, what I know to be lies, into my ear as we sank into each other, quivering and misted with sweat.
It seemed that I had lain in silence for hours feeling his hot breath scatter about the nape of my neck. Was he asleep?
I reached over to grab something, anything that I had placed in the dresser earlier: the gun, the knife, a pair of scissors. I smirked grimly... To think, his fate rested upon a simple game of roulette...
My fingers touched the drawer--and that's when the bastard grabbed my waist and pulled me back down into the bed.
He looked down at me suspiciously.
"Where are you going?"
"N-no where," I gasped, my breath quickening as he began to touch me again.
--And, this'll be the last time I let his damned hands touch me, I thought as he gently kissed my forehead...
I had nearly missed my chance--I awakened and saw that it was three a.m., and Richard wasn't in bed next to me. But, I could hear him moving around in the dark.
This man was living on a wish and a prayer. I had planned to do things much quicker.
I looked in the dresser and the first thing that I could identify, was the knife. I grabbed it passionately and held it close to my chest, relieved that I was finally about to end things, and skulked through the darkness looking for something, anything that resembled him.
I spotted him downstairs, standing at a window... I rested my fingers upon the hilt of the knife, and for a brief moment, I hesitated.
The moonlight painted him as an innocent man. But, I knew better. He was a liar. I'm the innocent one--
For nearly fifteen years, I've done nothing but love him. And how does he repay my dedication? He lies... He cheats. Occassionally, he beats me...
I must end this, now.
"No, she's asleep--" he murmured.
"Is he... talking about me?"
"She's my wife. Of course I made love to her--" he said. "What's your damn problem?"
I tilted my head to the side and loosened my grip upon the knife.
"You have me during the day... I can't just not touch her--she needs me. And, honestly, I need her too... I just wish she was like this all the time, because tonight--I don't know... She was different... There was fire in her eyes... I can't quite--"
I moved a bit closer... I could hear a woman talking. She sounded frantic.
"Look... If you're gonna be such a bitch about it, then don't call me when I'm at home."
I walked up closely behind him. I could easily stab him in the back--That was number thirty-three... I counted to myself. Yes, thirty-three. But no, not in the back... I wanted him to see me. So, I spoke up...
"She shouldn't be calling you at all, Richie. Not this late..."
He panicked and turned around.
"I'll call you back," he said quickly, yanking himself away from the window.
He sat the phone upon the corner table behind him and carefully eyed the glinting, silver blade within my grasp.
"Lauren... don't get all psycho on me--listen..." He moved closer and after a moment of exchanging stares, he daringly wrapped his arms around me. "Think about what you're doing--"
"I've thought about it," I said, stiffening my arms at my sides and clutching the knife tighter.
He squeezed harder; the warmth of his body bled into my skin, and I found myself slowly relaxing.
"I--I was just... so tired..."
"I know," he said, slowly sliding his fingers down my arm. Then, he gripped my hand and the knife it held and hugged me tighter. "I'm sorry."
I tensed up again.
"No you're not--" I whispered, right arm trembling.
I was determined to stab him, but his hold was much stronger than mine.
"It was a mistake--" His voice was deep and hushed. He breathed a little harder, attempting to keep the knife as neutral as possible. "How can I get you to forgive me?"
I looked up into his eyes. One side of his face was illumined by moonlight. The other was swallowed up in shadows. I squinted my eyes and spoke as harshly as I knew how.
"By letting me jab this blade into your belly... I want to watch you gush out..."
His face went blank, and he clenched his jaw tightly.
I've shaken him... There's no way that I'll be able to reclaim the knife from his grasp--and surely, he'll see to it that I pay dearly after the tension dies down and he's back in control.
But for now, in this moment... I'm powerful. Even more so than he. His soul is stirred... And, I'm gonna get the most outta this shit... before he snaps out of it.
" I want to make you bleed..." I said in a sweet, menacing voice, "like you've made me bleed so many times before. I want to see the blood collect in thick, dark globs upon your shirt... I want you to leak out onto the floor."
My arms went limp at my sides, but I continued to make my case.
"I want to see that look of utter helplessness creep into your eyes once you feel the chill of death engulf you from the inside out... I want to watch you die, Richie..."
I tilted my head down and with my free hand, I touched his lower abdomen.
"I want to cut you... right here--"