~ that deadly night ~

As I stared at the box, I felt all of my pain slowly fade away. I sat there with the biggest grin on my face, one of no regrets. I could still see the fear in his eyes. I could still hear his plead for forgivness and his cries for help.

As I stared at the box, I remembered what he had done and all the anger came back. He told me that he was busy with his family that weekend and that he would be out of town until next Sunday. I was disappointed and upset but I believed him and understood. I kissed him goodbye and told him to have fun. A few of my friends and I went to a new club that had just opened on the other side of town. When I walked in, I saw him, with her. I shut my eyes and reopened them, hoping it wasn’t really happening. I knew it had. I knew it was true and knew he had lied to me. I didn’t know what to do. I looked at him again, watching his lips, the ones that once touched mine, kiss hers. I turned away and ran out the door, crying, feeling so hurt and betrayed. That was the worst night of my life and I knew I had to do something about it. I wasn’t going to just let him get away with it.

As I stared at the box, I remembered the following night, when my pain had turned into anger and resentment. That Sunday when he came to visit me, he told me more lies. I began to cry and he pretended to be concerned and caring. I pushed him away and told him all that I knew. I told him that I knew the truth, that I was there that night, and I saw him with her. He was silent and I could see in his eyes that he didn’t regret any of it. I fell to my knees and cried into my hands. He just stood there like I was the fool. I reached up and opened the counter drawer. I pulled out a knife and held it out toward him. I told him he would pay, that he would be the one to suffer now. He laughed and told me that I was crazy. He came at me and tried to take the knife away. As he moved closer the anger became deeper and deeper. I lost control of myself and I stabbed him in the stomach. As he grabbed his stomach, trying to hold in the blood, I quickly slit his throat. I screamed how much I hated him and let him hurt as much as I had. I watched him fall to the floor grasping his throat. I could hear him gasping for air, I could see the fear in his eyes, and I loved every moment of it. He began spitting up blood and holding his arms out to me. Did he think I felt sorry for him? I never have and I never will. His eyes went shut and he lay on the floor motionless. After a few moments I realized what I had done, so I dragged his body out to the backyard and began digging a hole. I put his body in a wooden box I had found in a garage next door. I nailed the box shut and sat on a nearby stump.