As I put on my white dress I anxiously wait for his return. I flock around the house all day cleaning and taking care of my two daughters. All the while thinking about the twist of the doorknob and his slow tried footsteps creeping through the door. I love him very much but he’s been acting quite strange lately, staying at work for late hours and coming home very timid and disconnected.
When he walks in the door he doesn’t burst into his talkative self. He slithers through the house mumbling angrily and he makes his way into his office and doesn’t come out until he is hungry. When we eat together the air is filled with silence. At night we often don’t talk at all. We sleep with our backs turned away from each other.
Although right now we are very troubled, I still love him very much. George is a great man and the love of my life. I just hope that whatever is between us will soon melt away and we can get back to our lovely life together.
But tonight it has taken especially long for him to come home. I’ve tried to call the office and they said he already left. Then I tried to call his personal cell phone and it just went straight to voicemail.
At nine PM someone walks through the door. To my surprise it wasn’t my George it was a different man. I’d seen this man before but I didn’t know his name and especially did not know why he was entering my house.
He was a smaller light-haired man. He was wearing work attire that was scuffled and raggedy from a long day of work. He was on edge eyes wide open and breathing heavily.
“Who are you?! Why are you hear?!”
“I have something to tell you,” he spoke.
I didn’t know this man but for some reason, I wanted to hear him out. I guess I’ve been deprived of human relations for so long that I was happy for about any strange person to come running into my house. So, I sat him down on my new floral patterned couch and got him a drink.
He was deep in thought and completely on edge. He frantically gulped down his water. I sat on the arm of the chair lounging chair across from him.
“Now, who are you? Why are you hear? What do you have to tell me?” I say this time more calmly.
“I’m William, I work with your husband.” William pauses, “George.”
“He’s not home yet. He works through the late hours. Very dedicated man he is.”
“He is a great man. But, I’m here as I said before to tell you something” He pauses taking a sip of water, “Actually I’m more specifically here to confess something about me and George.”
“What about you and William? Come on spill it now!” I'm standing now.
“Sally. Your husband and I are in love.” He calmly states looking up at me. No mark of expression on his face.
I drop my glass and it shatters. I don’t know how this is happening.
“No! You’re an insane man! My husband is a good normal honest man, that has a good normal honest family and a good normal honest wife! He would never do such a thing!” I tell this to him in a shaking voice with tears rolling down my face and my fists clenched in rage.
“Miss.Smith Please sit down and we can talk about this together.”
“Miss?” I scream, “Miss? Is that what you said?”
“Please calm down.”
“Calm down? Calm down! You want me to calm down! Do you not understand? I love him! We have a family together! I dedicate my whole life to being his wife. Then YOU come in and MESS IT ALL UP!”
He stands up as if in self-defense. He’s scared of me. He should be. He puts his hand out in front of him and slowly backs away. I stare him down. And then, in all my rage I have an idea. I run to George’s office. On the wall, there is his prized possession. His hunting rifle. I snatch the rifle off the wall clenching it tightly with my finger held on the trigger.
I run out to the living room but, he’s not there. I rush to the front door which he left wide open. Then I spot him in his car. He is about to pull out of the driveway. When he sees me holding the rifle he is terrified. He should be.
I have another cunning idea I shoot the tire and it instantly goes flat. He hears this and he is screaming frantically getting out of the car to make a run for it.
He runs down the suburban streets yelling for help. There is no one out because of the late hour but, some lights in houses turn on as we run past them like a trail of lights following us.
He is fast but my bullets are much faster.
BANG. I hit him in the calf. He slows to a limp.
BANG. I hit him in the back. He falls down.
I catch up to his laying body. I stand atop him and aim my gun down at his face.
About a minute later the police show up. Splattered with blood on my white dress and blonde hair they put me in handcuffs and into the back of the cop car.
I am completely thrilled. Running through my veins is pure anger. Anger is all I feel. It’s all that I feel that I know.
But, sitting in that cop car my anger lessens because now I will never be happy but so will George. With that I am satisfied. Now I spend the rest of my life here in a small cell. The only thing that can make me happy is thinking about George’s misery.
So now I sit in my cell and write down my story.
So that’s the end.
They are turning off the lights now.
Inspired by: Lamb to the slaughter by Roald Dahl and RAGE by Stephen King