Tinkerbell Kill's

I wipe the knife on our bedspread, watching as the crimson color of my husband’s blood drips on the cloth, mixing with the fabric. I loved that bedding set. My beautiful, white down filled comforter, lying across white cotton Egyptian sheets. I shouldn’t have bought it. The cost was more than I’d ever spent on a blanket or sheets. I knew David was going to be pissed at me again. In his bitchy voice, “We have enough blankets!” Screw him. I don’t give a shit anymore. I wanted it, so I bought it. I stopped caring about how he felt or what he wanted a long time ago. One day, I just decided, I was going to do what I wanted, buy what I wanted, look the way I wanted, and dress the way I wanted. I have spent too many years caring about what other people think. Worrying I’m not dressed well enough, or my make up looks funny. Always trying to be careful, not to make anyone mad. Scared that everyone will leave me. Scared I’m not good enough. I was never good enough for me, so why did I think I could be good enough for anyone else. One day I just woke up and said I’d had it. I’ve had enough. I decided to do and act how I wanted. I spent a lot of time in the tanning bed, always had blond hair, and was told I looked like a little Barbie doll. I decided I was tired of looking like a blond bimbett. No one ever listened to me. My thoughts were disregarded, When I talked no one listened. I tried to be social because that’s what everyone expected, but we never went to places I wanted to go. Whichever boyfriend at the time chose where we went. No one ever cared what I wanted. “That’s it,” I said to myself. “I’m changing everything about me.” I decided instead of the medium length blonde hair, I would dye it black. Black hair will be better to keep up with and not much work to it. I can just stop going to a salon and dye the shit myself. Next, I decided to grow my hair out long and all the same length. My days of listening to rap and dance music, going to clubs was over. I checked out grundg and active rock, went that way. My makeup got a lot darker around my eyes. Lipstick was always a darker color. Here comes the tattoo’s. Both arms semi sleeved with pagan symbols that no one understands. Nails are kept short, but now pained with a black cherry colored polish. Now, don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t intentionally going for a Goth look, but that’s what it ended up as. I dress as a hippy and wear jewelry like a gypsy. You want to know what happened? People started to listen to me. People started to notice me for something other than a piece of ass or arm candy. And I love every minute of it. I won’t be ignored again. Oh, ya, I just killed my husband. Well, in my defense, he was snoring. Not to mention he wouldn’t love on me when we went to bed. I’m sick of not getting spoons. I’m like Tinkerbelle that way, if I don’t get attention I’ll die. I told him, I told him a week ago that I put a pillow over his head while he was sleeping. I was trying to see how long it would take for him to try to catch his breath. It’s his own damn fault he didn’t believe me. I know, the knife seems a bit drastic, but he did get home late from his sisters. We had an agreement that he would be home at a certain hour. We agreed he wouldn’t leave me alone for very long. I hate his sister; so not giving David a lot of time to spend at her house gives me pleasure because it causes them pain. He knows better than that. He knew I’d be super pissed and probably hysterical by the time her got home, and, well, I was. I was ready for a divorce. I wanted to tape my wedding ring to the front door with a note saying never come back. I can’t live without him though. I mean I can live without him, but only if he’s dead. I will not allow him to leave me just so he can go and do whatever he wants with whom ever he wants. He doesn’t get to have fun. So, the only thing I figured I had left to do is to kill him. Oh, and I just bought some new knives too. I tried one out on my wrist about a week ago, had to get about 10 stitches. It was so cool too. I kept pulling the gash apart and pulling out the meat inside. So, the knife works well, sharper than the other ones. I didn’t want to blatantly kill him, but I had no choice. I needed to leave an element of mystery as to why it happened, sounds better to me. David’s a pretty passive aggressive person, no one would ever believe we got into a fight and I was defending myself. I mean, why would I have a knife in the bedroom? And I have to kill him in bed. The bathroom being right by our bedroom, I can just lay out some plastic, slice his both his wrists the long way, not across like attention seekers do. Roll him onto the plastic and drag him to the tub. Run the water, put him in the tub, leave the knife on the floor next to him, walk out and lock the door behind me, go to bed. I take about 6 mg’s of Lunesta at night to help me sleep, so I’ll fall asleep just fine. But, I am a little worried. I did wipe the knife on my comforter. No worries, I guess. I’ll just put the blanket in the grill and set it on fire, I did cook out earlier so it will make sense. I always burn the chicken anyways. Wow! What a night. Damn it! I’ll have to call the police when I get up. That’s just going to ruin my entire day. I’m a freaking genius, a regular Einstein. So, I’m thinking my day should be fine. The police will investigate of course, but I don’t care. David’s days of leaving me alone are over, his sister and mom will suffer more than I will, but that’s okay with me. I’m just glad to be done with him.