A message too Late

         I write this now as half confession and half suicide note. The events I will describe may seem unbelievable, but I assure you they are real. I will also assure you that I am not insane, though it may seem to you, reader of this last testament, that is most certainly the case.
         I guess I can begin with the events that led up to the final act which you may consider a crime, but believe me it was punishment, or so it seemed at the time. I had been married for a year or so when I first began to notice the signs. Yes, the signs! They were all there. I tell you in my most astute observations I duly noted each and every one of them. From the difference of smells that emanated from within the house when I arrived late in the afternoon, to the suddenly cheerful and exuberant way she greeted me when I returned. Yes the signs were there! Any normal man would not have noticed them, but I did. There were secret whispers to her girlfriend and excited laughter afterwards. There! I knew what was going on, Only a fool could not see it, and I am certainly no fool. I decided that she must pay for her betrayal.
         I arrived home 3 hours early that fateful evening. She greeted me curiously and bade me to sit down in my chair while she began to prepare supper. I had almost abandoned my plan until I noticed that she had a glow about her. I had seen the glow before. It was there the morning after our honeymoon and here it is now taunting me. This was to be the last sign I would endure.
         She was preparing vegetables or some other supper related food when I approached her and buried my work knife deep between her shoulder blades. She let out a distorted moan and fell to the floor, silent and unconscious. I then stood above her and waited for her staggered and labored breathing to cease. After what seemed to be hours she finally stopped breathing, and I quickly went to work on wrapping her body up in an old comforter and cleaning the dark congealing blood that had pooled in the kitchen.
         With the clean up finished and her body in the trunk of my car I went inside to eat a quick meal. Over the meal I pondered over a place to put my newly deceased wife, and settled on the old Miller quarry. I cleaned the dishes and grabbed the bottle of Wild Turkey out of the pantry. The booze would be for celebration as soon as she was disposed of.
         Back outside I grabbed a couple of cinder blocks and an old chain from the storage shed and threw them into the backseat of the car. I started the car and was halfway out of the driveway when I began to hear the thumping noises. Every mile or so on the way they continued. At first they didn't concern me. That was until I realized they were coming from inside the trunk. I tell you now, I am not crazy. I have never heard things that weren't there. I have never hallucinated or had visions. These sounds were coming from the trunk! I tried my best to ignore them but they only continued to get louder. Then as I turned onto the dirt road that led to the quarry they stopped.
         When I got to the quarry I backed the car as close to the edge of the water as was safe. I grabbed the blocks and chain from the rear seat and made my way to the trunk.
         I opened the trunk and paused in horror at what I saw. Her eyes were opened! Only an hour before she had ceased to exist and her eyes were most certainly closed. Now, as I tell you this, I tell you her eyes were open! After staring in horror I called out to her, but there was no answer. Could she have still been alive? No! I tell you now, no! I watched the breath leave her body and yet somehow her eyes have opened. I reached into the trunk to touch her. She was cold and surely dead, but the eyes kept staring at me. Accusing me. Accusing and at the same time forgiving. A deep and harrowing sadness began to creep into my chest. But before it could take hold I remembered her betrayal.
         Now strengthen with the thoughts of her betrayal I quickly removed her from the trunk and set about binding her corpse with the chain and blocks. Her weight seemed to have doubled as I carried her into the water.
I had only gotten about four steps past the waters edge but was already in chest high water. I decided this would be the right spot and let her go with a hard push. Her body sank beneath the surface to remain forever a memory.
         I climbed back onto the shore exhausted, got into the car and drove home wet from the chest down. After I pulled back onto the highway I grabbed the bottle of whiskey, toasted to my new life without a betraying wife, and drank deep.
         When I returned to the house I noticed 4 new messages on the answering machine. Knowing that I should act as if everything was normal I decided to listen and respond to the callers. This now, dear reader, is where you  will understand why this is not just a confession but also a suicide note.
         The first message was from an Avon sales supervisor, it seems as though my wife had began selling perfumes to make extra money, hence the new smells of the house. But bear with me please you who have been so kind as to read this so far. The next two messages were of no consequence, but the fourth, O God the fourth! The fourth message was from her friend who she had been whispering secretly to for the past week or so. Her friend had called to ask if she had told me the good news of her pregnancy tonight, as she was supposed to have, or if I had guessed it already from her constant glowing and happiness.
         I have told you before dear reader that I am not mad and I assure you I am not. I am profoundly depressed, for I have killed my loving wife for no reason, along with our unborn child!
                Tonight I will finish what I can of the whisky, though not in celebration and then dine on the barrel of a shotgun!