"Don't go. Please." It was a whispered plea, a desperate plea. I was done with being the strong carefree woman everyone expected me to be. I was done hiding my true emotions. I was tired of watching my husband slowly fall out of love with me and fall in love with another woman. I was through with pretending it wasn't happening.
His back was to me, his hand on the door knob, ready to walk out once again. He let out a sigh, "You know I've got a ton of paperwork to finish at the office. Its due next week and I haven't even made a dent in it. So it's gonna be another late night... Don't wait up." He turned the knob and opened the door and he was halfway through before I stopped him with, "Don't lie to me." He paused, surprised, before turning around and closing the door behind him.
"I'm not as stupid and naive as you think I am. You've been using that excuse for the past three weeks..." He opened his mouth to deny it but I continued on in a hard, quiet voice, "The signs were there. You were slowly pulling away from me. I told myself I was paranoid and just imagining things. But then she called the house. She left a voice mail that... confirmed my suspicions." My voice broke on the last part and I mentally cursed myself.
He swore and his innocent expression disappeared. It was replaced with a guilty one. But he didn't try and justify why he cheated on me for so long. Why he never told me. He just ran a hand through his curly hair and then after a couple seconds, turned and opened the door, walking into the night.
I cried myself to sleep that night. I curled into a ball and cried into his pillow. When I was all cried out I fell to sleep. And when my alarm clock went off at eight in the morning, I didn't press snooze like usual. I didn't feel like sleeping anymore. I just swung my legs over the side of the bed and slipped on my gray slippers. I stood up and made my way to the bathroom, not even glancing at his side of the bed. I knew it would be empty and untouched. He once again spent the night with her.
The bathroom mirror made the harsh reality sink in even more. My hair was everywhere, my eyes bloodshot still swollen, and my mascara smeared. Signs of a rough, lonely night. I swallowed back a sob and grabbed a hair tie off the sink, pulling my hair up in a messy bun then wiped my makeup off. I walked out of the bathroom and straight to my dresser where I pulled out gray sweats and a white tank top. I didn't care. Today my outfit was going to reflect how I felt.
I walked down the stairs, every intention of heading to the kitchen and grabbing a bottle of vodka. It was never too early for a drink. But I was stopped when red droplets on the hardwood floor caught my eye. What the hell? I stared at it and then realized that they led to the foyer. I followed the trail and when I got to the foyer... My scream echoed off the walls and I fell to the ground, slowly becoming hysterical, as I stared at the mutilated, bloodied, body of my husband.