The Love Triangle

TW: abuse, murder, gore

Steven

I was still fuming uncontrollably, wondering why she had done it. What made her lose respect for me to the point of taking the lid off what happens, what really happens at home. In the first place, why did she reveal that we were in a marriage? Not to the love of my life, not to my newly found rose who was giving me the happiness I no longer had from my wife.

For the past fifteen years, I had been married to Esther. We had a blissful beginning to our union, the love and passion being over the clouds. As the clock ticked, we began to slowly and surely lose our connection. Quarrels and fights became our daily bread and soon it went from loud conflicts to physical altercations. I was never one to hold back anger and even though I tried to control my temper, Esther seemed to have an art of triggering it.

The first time I lost my cool was a little more than a year into our marriage. I swung a palm at her on a night which we had quarreled for no true reason. Since then, it kept on progressing as Esther became more disrespectful while I became more aggressive. Eventually, our love faded and for the past ten years, nothing but rings and certificates held our marriage.

Something had changed in me as well. The constant beatings I gave Esther suddenly felt like a necessity, more like medication to chronic disease. For her to remain disciplined, I had to punish her as frequently as I could for any slight diversion from what I wanted. I was addicted to her pain, her tears made me smile almost as much as her crying made me laugh. Sadistic as it may seem it was all justified. She brought this monster out of me, if she hadn’t gotten out of line for all those years I would never have felt this way. I would still feel ashamed of laying my hands on her and would certainly still love her like the first. It was all her fault.

It was all her fault that my new flame Maria had argued with me today. It was her fault that she wanted to break things off with me. Maria was a young beauty I had met a few years back and since then we kicked off pretty well. I was the mature figure in her life while she made me feel young again. We had so many plans on what we would do in the future. All that kept us from it was the ring I hid from her every time we met. At some point, that ring should have had a permanent disappearance from my hands however the implications of that deterred me from it. For one thing, I would have exposed all the faults in myself which the world was never meant to know and for another, I had no intention of freeing Esther. Never was I going to let go of someone who had brought the worst in me and glued it right on me. She needed to endure what she created for the rest of her life.

Today she had crossed the line however, I wasn’t going to let her go easy for the crime she committed. What right did she have to confront Maria and spill what happened behind our closed doors? What reason was there to tell Maria that she was a mistress to an abusive husband, as she liked to call it. I was going to make her pay, as harshly as I could, tonight she would yawl and bleat in agony she had never felt before. The mere thought of me aroused all senses of joy in me.

Arriving at home a few minutes to midnight I stormed in, banging the door behind so hard its hinges snapped. I reeked of alcohol I had downed all night due to the frustration of Maria’s argument. “Esther where are you!”, I bellowed with the highest pitch I could muster. No sound of a reply came. I prowled into the kitchen, then crept into the living room like a beast pursuing prey. She wasn’t in both rooms. Probably she was hiding in our bedroom, knowing that a thorough beating awaited her. As I slipped into the bedroom I saw her sitting at the edge of the bed seemingly unconcerned of my entry. She smiled at me and gave me the sweetest greeting she had given me in years. This was rather queer for someone who always looked terrified and dared not look me in the eye. I see, she knew she had ruined my happiness and was relishing in joy for taking it away from me. The condescending smile she wore screamed of satisfaction, the satisfaction of knowing that she had ruined the little happiness I had found. Certainly, she had no idea I was going to punish her in a manner consistent with the severity of her actions.

Rushing towards her I yanked her hair and pressed her head tight against the bed's edge. The pounding began as I rained fists to her face like a boxer punching a mannequin. I counted the blows at first then slowly I lost count. One blow after the other I kept on firing at her like a machine gun. It was only when I felt a slash across the left side of my neck that I paused the assault.

A moment later a jolt of pain pierced my belly and I rolled over onto the floor. Esther followed me and sat on my lap, knife in the air. Shock struck me before her next stab, was this really happening, was she really fighting back in such a superior fashion. Esther stabbed me again, then again, before long it became more of a rhythm as she pierced my skin multiple times.

Fear crept into me as I realized that with every shot she gave me I was moving closer to the deathbed. “Esther please stop” I whispered in the hopes of a reprieve. No reply or remorse followed my plea. Looking into her eyes I suddenly saw myself, the way I always pummeled her body while she begged for mercy. How I enjoyed every ounce of her pain so much I wanted to inflict more of it. The superiority that graced me whenever her defenseless stature splattered on the ground while I decided what to do to her next.

Momentarily I also the view from her side. No power to protect yourself, inability to stop the assault you faced. I felt the panic she must have felt all those years, the desperation for it to end followed by the anxiety of what would happen next. The light was getting fainter in my eyes as my life dwindled away. The last I saw of this world was the perspective my wife had for so many years. The view was very cold and very dark. Something I was glad I would see once and never again.

ESTHER

Steve had finally done it. He had reached the last straw. After all the suffering he had put me through he had dared to add a mistress on top of that. I couldn’t believe it and was never going to let it go whatever the cost.

Two weeks ago I had discovered his secret affair and never felt more hurt in my life. For someone who endured brutal injury every other day, this was another level of pain. The pain I didn’t feel in my body but I felt in my heart. A kind of hurt that stung more than the bruises he had given me all my life.

This I would not let go of. No, I wasn’t going to let him hurt me and leave unscathed. I was able to do something in retaliation and missing out on this opportunity was not an option. Maria was a sweet little girl and every inch the chic African beauty. A truly endowed creation whose life I nearly ended a week ago. I was only just a few centimeters away from running over her last week, with my conscience stepping in at the very last second. She didn’t deserve to die; all this wasn’t her fault. A young, naïve and totally oblivious girl caught in a scandal she had not a single idea of. She was as innocent as anyone could ever be in the mess my husband had created.

Finally, I decided to open up to her on the truth that my husband had hidden from her all this time. Uncovering my scars and showing my bare tattered image, I revealed all she never imagined the man who loved her dearly was incapable of. Steve had put on a mask which was the complete opposite of the face which it covered. As his beloved wife, it was only right that I should be the one to let the cat out of the bag and show him for what really was.

Maria broke into tears, of course, she never believed that all I told her was possible. The façade which Steve had sold her was so realistic that reality seemed like a lie. Ironically, before this, it was usually me breaking into tears and Maria consoling me for my enduring abuse. She enlightened me with stories of her lover and how he treated her. How they sounded so much like what I once experienced fifteen years ago. Perhaps I should have seen it coming, it always felt like I was looking at myself at her age, involved with a man so in love with her it seemed like a fairytale. Maybe that was when it should have clicked.

Spilled milk can never be remitted into a broken cup, and this cup was completely splattered. After breaking the news to Maria, I returned home knowing that my actions had put me in a position of no return. Once I did it there was no going back and the consequences would follow.

Steve came back home around midnight in some angry fashion and made no mistake of his intentions. As I expected he was wreathing of alcohol and fuming with rage. I countered it with composure and calm which would either cool him down or trigger him. The latter occurred and he rushed towards me, grabbing my hair and slamming my head on the edge of the bed. Steve began to rain punches on me, particularly aiming for the head. My thick braids offered some shield but still, he drew closer and closer to my skull.

I was ready for him this time and had come prepared to defend myself. I had hidden a knife under the pillow and stealthily pulled it out and clutched it with my stronger hand. Initially, it was only meant to lacerate enough to immobilize him, however, I was put in a quandary I did not want, if I didn’t kill him he was going to kill me.

With one swing I slashed his neck open and saw blood drip out of the wound. In an instant I lodged the blade deep into his belly, toppling him over when I pulled it out. Probably this was the time I should have stopped but instinct made me sit on him and further the assault. I stabbed him at the liver then switched to the spleen. He whispered something, an apology or plea for mercy but I wasn’t listening to anything he said. Instead, I pricked one lung and it felt so good I went for the other one.

As I gazed at his face I saw a look I was more than familiar with, the look I had given him whenever he attacked me. The vulnerability which I had and the need for mercy I yearned for. At last, he finally understood why it really hurt when he abused me. Finally, I also understood why he continuously beat and berated me. The superiority I had at this moment was out of this world as if I was a celestial deity punishing a mortal that had dared defy his power. The ability to decide his fate for him as he lay on the floor unable to help himself gave me joy. Euphoric energy flowed through me as I delivered the blows, enticing me to give him another one. Blood splattered onto my dress and stained it but I didn’t care. Nothing mattered at this moment, nothing else mattered but this. This is why he had abused me for so long, it felt so good to inflict pain onto another. As his life faded, a sadness hovered over me, I will never feel this again. Tears of joy and anger matted my cheeks, this was a moment that should have traumatized me but no, it only felt amazing.

Maria

It had been three days since the tragedy occurred to Steve. A gruesome murder that left him with a grotesque body is what he had suffered while his estranged wife Esther was shipped to prison as soon as she confessed to her crimes. As I saw Steve’s corpse being lowered six feet under tears cascaded out of my eyes. We should have traveled around the world and explored the depths of my love. All our promises and dreams were being lowered into the ground never to return again.

Esther had done the unforgivable. She had stolen away my happiness and lost me the love I desired. Much as I sympathized with her I couldn’t help but hate her for what she had done. Steve may have deserved to die but it still shouldn’t have happened. Our moments shouldn’t have ended.

At the same time, I felt satisfied with seeing Steve finally paying for his signs. For many years my affair with Esther had been centered on the husband who hurt her a lot. She cried to me whenever she was abused and I comforted her in the way I knew fit. We would hide our obsessive relationship in the guise of a sisterhood. The pain her husband inflicted made me wish to kill him several times. Esther hid his identification as she knew that I would have ended his life by hurting the woman I loved.

Our romance was beautiful in that she accepted that I was also in love with another. Loving a man didn’t trouble her even though we also shared equal passion. When she found out her husband was the man I loved that triggered her to expose him to me after so many years of hiding him. She thought I knew of their marriage and was betraying her but realized I was also in the dark after confronting me.

Confusion hit me in the emotional time. Hate came in my mind towards Esther killing the man I loved and taking away a romance that could have been. Mutual hate also came for Steve who had hurt the woman I loved for a good deal of her life. Steve’s actions resulted in her acting in a way that was unnatural to her and now I would only see my lover behind the counter of a jail cell.

One way or another, one of them would have died and the other would have been locked away. Either I would spend my life seeing Steve’s ghost whispering “this could be us” whenever a couple passed by, or the ghost of Esther looking me in the mirror and shouting “I told you so” while I concealed bruises inflicted on me through violent conduct from my ‘could have been’ husband.

I was gladly awaiting Steve’s ghost. As much as it hurt, his death was something I would have enacted upon myself if he had been someone else. As I placed my roses on his grave, the grief and rage disappeared for a moment, and a smile of satisfaction cracked my face. This truly felt like justice and it had been served cold and delicious.