1. My Wife, The Murderer
Bianca
“What made you do this?” He screamed. “All this time, have I been a joke to you? I guess it was funny watching me talk about my dead relatives when you’re the reason they died!”
No, it wasn’t fun at all. But how can I tell him that? I can’t even move my fingers. All I can do is stare blankly into my lap. The couch I am on is comfortable, it always was. However, it’s hard to relax when my husband is pacing back and forth.
Conroy ran his fingers through his hair. “What is your problem? Seriously! You’re choosing now to be quiet?”
I can’t choose anything. Doesn’t he see that something is odd? Or does he think I’m unable to look at him out of guilt?
Conroy finally takes a break and takes a seat on the couch across from me. He lowered his head. After a minute or two has passed, he lifts his head and tries to look into my eyes. Of course, I can’t look back at him.
“You know, I didn’t want to believe it when they told me.” He leaned back. “I mean, you said you loved me. You were always there when I needed you and even cried when I cried. I had no reason to think that you were… that you were that kind of person.”
That’s because I’m not. I fell in love with you because you seemed like a sensitive and considerate person. The years we spent together mean a lot to me. When you asked me to marry you, I was beside myself in happiness. After I went home I couldn’t stop smiling. The past six months of us being married were like a dream.
If I wasn’t poisoned, I would’ve been able to tell you that.
He sighed, head in his palms. Between us was a small table. On it, divorce papers. My name was already on it, whoever poisoned me, they made sure of it. I don’t know who did it but I’m sure they’re the same person who told him that ridiculous story. If I survive after this, they’re dead meat.
Conroy got up and took a seat beside me. "You don't actually want to divorce, right?" He asked. "Since you worked so hard to get my attention. And it worked! But I might be willing to forgive you if you tell me the truth of what you did."
He placed his hand on my shoulder. "I need to know that you feel guilty. Do you still have a heart that isn't made out of stone?"
His phone rang. He didn't pay it any mind. Even after the ringing stopped, I could still hear it. It echoed, just like Conroy's voice.
It's tiring to keep my eyes open. I'm screaming in my head, begging him to notice that something is wrong.
Can't someone come visit? Anyone? Maybe if I didn't cancel my plans with my sister today she would have come to pick me up.
Rarely do I ever doubt Conroy, but now I'm noticing how narrow-minded he can be. Once he has an idea in his head he won’t see anything else.
His wavy golden brown hair framed his face perfectly. I liked running my fingers through it while he smiled at me. When we went running, he would shift into a wolf with fur that glowed golden in the sunlight. The sight always left me mesmerized. If we went running with our friends, we would hide from them and leave them wondering where we were while we enjoyed time alone.
“Tell me what happened?”
When I didn’t answer, he shook my shoulders.
“Tell me what you did, Bianca!” Conroy shouted.
My heart pounded in my chest, the only thing capable of moving. Conroy let me go. The light above us flickered. The takeout I ordered for lunch earlier in the day lay forgotten on the countertop in the kitchen. He muttered curses under his breath. Sweat flowed down my face. I felt like I was in a body that wasn’t mine. If it was mine, I would have been able to control it. My mobility and ability to speak were ripped away from me during the most important time in my life.
Conroy rubbed his face over and over again. “Fine, I should have expected this. When my sister said that I can’t trust anyone, I should have known that she was right. I was too naive to realize I’ve been sleeping with a murderer.”
He found a pen nearby and leaned forward to sign the divorce papers. After he was done, he slammed the pen on the table.
“There, it’s done! If I see you again, I won’t be nice.”
I could only sit and listen to him collect his things. With a duffle bag over his shoulder, he gave me one last look. The anger, confusion, and heartbreak in his expression were difficult to witness.
“You can keep the apartment.” He threw the key for the front door onto the table. Then, he left.
A tear escaped my right eye.
One year later
The nurse offered to help me but I put my hand up.
“I can handle this much, Clarissa,” I told her with a smile. “Thank you, though.”
Clarissa sighed. “Is something wrong?” I asked.
“It’s nothing. I’ll miss you when you leave. I know the other patients will miss you too.”
A laugh slipped through my lips. “Can I give you a hug?”
“Of course!”
We gave each other a warm hug. I inhaled her flowery perfume. It’s been a huge comfort for me these past couple of months. She chuckled as we pulled apart.
“Will your family be coming to pick you up?” She asked.
I knew that she meant well, but I couldn’t help the feeling of anxiety rising. I pushed it down. “No, they’ll be waiting for me at home.”
Clarissa could tell that I didn’t want to talk about it further and nodded. “Then I hope that I never see you here again, Bianca. Have a fantastic rest of your life!”
“Thank you, Clarissa.” I gave her another hug.
As I walked out the facility with my belongings in hand, I acknowledged that I was leaving the place I’d gotten used to. Being here gave me time away from my life. It gave me clarity. Despite how long I’ve spent learning how to move again, I don’t regret any of it.
The sun hit my face. As soon as it did, my smile disappeared.
Today is just the beginning. I’m going to wreak havoc. I have a list of people who won’t be happy to see me again, and I hope they take a long, good look at me.
Knowing that I came back just for them.