We rented a killer cabin....

The heavy knife clattered to the tile floor. Rochelle’s hands and clothes were covered in thick, dark blood. The once yellow cardigan began dripping the surplus of blood from its sleeve onto the kitchen floor with a low dull slopping sound. Rochelle’s pink and white floral dress was in ruins, and her kitten heels left little triangles and dot shapes in blood as she crossed the kitchen floor.

Without even rinsing her hands, she grabbed a rocksglass from the drainboard of the old country sink. She plinked a few cubes of ice into the glass from the fridge door and poured three fingers of Knob Creek Bourbon into the glass. She took a long, heady swig of the burning liquor and sighed deeply.  

It was done.

Rochelle looked out the cabin window and saw the sun was setting over the mountain. The view was glorious. The pinks, golds, and purples mingled and danced around the clouds until, finally, it was dark. “Dangerous Woman” by Ariana Grande played on the radio.

“Perfect,” she thought. “I need to get rid of my husband’s body and quick!”

 Friends would be arriving tomorrow afternoon, and the house needed to be ready. It was too late to turn back now. The plan was too far underway.

Earlier that day, Rochelle and Ermin had arrived at the cabin in the mountains to get a head start on cleaning the place up for a weeklong getaway with their friends. Trista and Drew were flying in from Washington, and Kelsy and her husband Erian were flying in from Tennessee. They all made a trip every few years to catch up and reconnect. Together, Rochelle and Ermin had unpacked the groceries, wine and beer, and a couple bottles of good bourbon. Once the groceries were unpacked, Ermin shoved their suitcases into a closet, slipped off his shoes, and settled onto a chair to finish the book he’d been reading.

Rochelle steamed internally. He seriously expected her to clean the house without his help. She had anticipated this, however, and it played right into her plan. Rochelle dusted, vacuumed, mopped, and deep-cleaned the cabin from top to bottom. She ignored Ermin, engulfed in his novel, but she smiled a slightly crooked, almost wicked grin each time he licked his fingers to turn the page.

Once the house was sparking, she began dinner. Ermin stumbled into the kitchen. “Hon, I don’t feel well,” he said, violently vomiting, barely making it to the nearby trashcan. He was sweating profusely, and his skin had a slightly green tinge. He stumbled again. This time, Rochelle took the large knife she had been cutting carrots with and plunged it as hard as she could into Ermin's chest. He let out a low groan and stared at Rochelle in shock. He couldn’t grasp what was happening. He grabbed for the knife, but Rochelle pulled it out quickly and plunged it in again, straight into his guts. Hot metallic-scented blood poured from the wound and from Ermin's mouth. He fell to the floor. Rochelle stabbed again and again and again! Blood flung from the knife and splattered across the refrigerator and walls. Into her eyes and mouth and all over her clothes, hands, and arms. Still, she kept furiously stabbing. Plunging the knife over and over into Ermin's face, neck, belly, and groin. Finally, his hoarse, raspy groans grew silent. His eyes stared off into the distance. He was dead.

Rochelle finished the glass of bourbon and poured another. The glass was now sticky and smudged with blood. Rochelle finished it in one large slug. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, smearing the copper-scented blood across her mouth like bright red lipstick.

Now that it was evening, she would have to move quickly. There was much to be done.

Rochelle washed her hands and face, no point in doing much more than that right now. She slung her blood-drenched sweater and dress into the bathtub, pulled on her dark blue jeans, red tee shirt, and boots, and went to the garage for the keys to the four-wheeler. Ermin was much heavier than Rochelle, and she knew this part wouldn’t be easy. She opened the garage and rode the four-wheeler out to the cabin's back door, closest to the kitchen. Back in the garage, she grabbed a length of chain, duct tape, and two padlocks and dropped it all by the ATV. Rochelle lifted Ermin's feet at the ankles and pulled. She pulled HARD and arduously dragged Ermin outside to the ATV. Covered in sweat and flaking dried blood, she tightly wrapped the chain around his ankles and secured it with one padlock. Next, Rochelle wrapped the other end of the chain around the bumper bar of the four-wheeler and secured it with the other padlock. She shoved the roll of duct tape into her bra. The night sky was now black. No moon. No stars to light the way.

Rochelle mounted the ATV and gave the key a twist again, it purred to life, and slowly at first, she began to drag Ermin's body through the yard to the trail leading to the quarry. There were no neighbors or campers for miles. Rochelle had researched this cabin in the months prior to the trip to be sure of it. Once on the trail, Rochelle gunned it, Ermin's body fishtailing behind her. He tumbled and twisted, picking up sticks, mud, and leaves. His head bounced over large rocks and logs. Rochelle’s long, auburn hair flailed in fiery waves as she whipped through the woods. At the quarry, she headed up a steep, rocky hill. Ermin was looking worse for the wear. Rochelle giggled dryly at the sight of him, her golden-brown eyes taking inventory of his mangled face and body. Now atop a steep plunging cliff, quarry below, she pulled the roll of duct tape from her cleavage. This part was going to be precarious. Rochelle ripped a long piece of duct tape off the roll and stuck it to the handle of the ATV. She sat again in the seat of the four-wheeler, tightly holding down the brake in one hand while carefully winding the tape around the gas control, throttle fully open. Slowly, so very carefully, she moved off the four-wheeler and released her grip from the brake. The ATV shot forward, and in one abrupt motion, it flew forward and hurdled over the cliff, plunging into the icy quarry.

Rochelle watched Ermin fly over the cliff, still chained behind the ATV, his arms waving above his head like an excited child on a rollercoaster, and then he disappeared into the black frigid waters.

Rochelle made the trek back to the cabin on the brisk night. She returned the way she came, covering the ATV tracks. Once back in the cabin, she spent most of the rest of the evening cleaning the mess, bleaching, scrubbing, and finely taking her time to check every single surface thoroughly. She started a fire and tossed in her bloody clothes and the book that Ermin had been reading. The book she had tediously painted poison on every page corner the previous morning while Ermin showered before the trip to the mountains, while she was expected to pack their bags. She opened a bottle of red wine, grabbed two glasses from the cabinet, lit some candles, and poured two glasses. Rochelle let the candles burn for an hour as she sat silently, drinking both glasses of wine and leaving them on the table in front of the fireplace and a blanket on the couch.

She headed up the stairs, showered again, combed and braided her hair, put on her pajamas, and set an alarm for 7 a.m. Her friends would be arriving at 8:30 that morning.

Rochelle slept more soundly than she had in years. When the alarm went off at 7, she woke and texted herself from Ermin's phone, “Going for an early morning hike, I’ll be back in time for breakfast.” Rochelle got up and dressed and went to the kitchen to begin breakfast. She set the table for six, put orange juice and champagne on ice, made a feast of fruit, cheese, and bread, and just finished the bacon and eggs when she heard the car pulling up to the cabin. 

Rochelle ran to the porch to greet her friends. She excitedly embraced Kelsy and Trista as their husbands brought in the luggage and hauled it to their rooms.

“Where is Ermin?” Drew asked as he came down the stairs.

“He texted me saying he went hiking and would be back for breakfast,” Rochelle responded. Trista and Kelsy exchanged glances with Rochelle, and each smirked a little.

The search party looked for Ermin for weeks until the trails were too thick with snow to travel them, and the quarry had frozen. Eventually, the police decided Ermin was likely the victim of a bear taking its last meal before hibernation for the long winter.

Ermin's body was never found, and Rochelle lived happily ever after.