Happy in Hell

I could smell it on him, the stench of sweet florals. It was so overbearing that sometimes I gagged, not able to stop myself. To tell me that nothing was going on, that no, he wasn't seeing anyone else; it was all a lie. I could smell her all over him, drenched in the overly expensive perfume that doesn't take much to make a tramp seem cheap.

My husband and I have been married for seven years - not long to some but long enough. We were soulmates, or at least I thought we were. He was this shy, college boy who always had his nose in a book. I was a shy, college girl who hid out in the confines of her dorm except for when my roommate bullied me into going out. That's how we met, you see. Both of our roommates had known each other and had talked of their boring roommates. It was then a light bulb came on and they both got the bright idea to introduce us to each other. It was awkward at first, but then we immediately fell for one another. We were perfect.

Fast forwarding a few years now, I've gained a bit of weight. We had been married for almost two and half years when I found out that I was pregnant. Oh, to see him so ecstatic, knowing that I was carrying his seed, his own flesh and blood, I couldn't have been happier. We were a perfect couple who was going to have a perfect baby.

Over the months, my belly grew big with the baby, eventually making me go on bed rest. I was so big I could barely fit through a doorway. At seven months, my water broke unexpectedly, and later on that day, we lost her. The only thing that was truly precious to us. He'd never admit it, but think that a little bit of him died with our child.
We decided to keep on trying to have kids but after several miscarriages, I decided to see a doctor and find out why I couldn't carry to full term. That's when I found out that I was mangled inside, like someone just grabbed a hold of everything in there and twisted it all around. My uterus was too weak to carry a baby and I was too weak to try anything else.

Another three years go by and we have both emotionally withdrawn from each other. That's when I suspected that he was seeing someone else. Someone who could give him babies, who could be there when he needed, to give him his heart's desire. I started to follow him at nights, when he told me that he was going to be out late, working. Working my ass. The only thing he was working was that whore. Anger kept building up inside of me, with no outlet to vent. I'd ask him about who she was and he would deny it. Eventually he got mad, and told me to back off and quit watching those silly soap opras of mine. They were giving me ideas, he said.

He could lie all he wanted to, but I knew other wise. I watched from the shadows as I watched their silhouettes against the closed blinds. I'd watched as they sinned, touching and loving. Anger was building - the more I watched, the more I wanted to barge in there and run a knife through each of their jaws. I wanted them to feel pain, know how I felt, and to let my husband know that he was outed. Backing away, deeping into the shadows, I began to form a plan.

Back to the gagging perfume, I backed away from his embrace and retched. Disgusted, he looked away and began to take off his coat.

"Maybe, if you wouldn't let yourself go like such a slouse, I would be coming home to you instead of her," he said, washing his hands. My mouth dropped open.Me? A slouse? Was that even a word? How dare him!

"Maybe, if you wouldn't be traipsing around with that two-bit whore, I wouldn't find the need to fill that void that you've left open."

"Well, you won't have to much longer. I want a divorce." He looked at me and crossed his arms across his chest. A divorce? This wasn't suppose to happen. We were perfect. We were shy and timid. What happened?

"A divorce? Is that what you want? What you really want?" I couldn't make my mind understand the word, the action, all of it. It was like jello, jiggling around inside of my head.

"Yes, that is what I want. She's pregnant." Oh my God. My worse nightmare has come true. Oh my God. Why? Why God? We were suppose to be perfect!

"She's pregnant? You allowed yourself to make a baby with her?!? She's nothing more but a dirty slut! She has three of you on the side. You think that she cares about you? She care's about the money and now she's going to be raking it in with child support! You're such an idiot!" More anger. I could taste the vileness of it at the back of my throat. He blinked. Nothing affected him.

"I would appreciate it if you wouldn't call her those names. And no, there is no child support because we have decided to get married. As soon as our divorce is final."

NOOOO! My heart was threatening to thump out of my chest as my lungs wouldn't cooperate with breathing. I was gulping air, like a fish stuck on land. I couldn't breath. My throat was tight, my eyesight, oh God, my eyesight. I couldn't see. Is this how death feels? Knocking outside your door?

"Come on, love. It won't be so bad. You can start a new life as so will I. And, to make things go smoother and to have a better understanding of all of this, she's coming here, for dinner." He turned to walk way.

That whore was not going to set foot in my house. No way. Reaching for the nearest thing, I grabbed the grill fork, the one with the long handle and had two prongs on the end, and plunged it through the back of his head. He didn't make a sound as he fell to the floor, never knowing what hit him. I turned him over and inspected his face. The prongs were protuding right between his eyebrows, matter dripping off the points.

Normally, I would never have been able to do such a thing. First of all, I'm too weak to drive that through skull and tissue and second of all, I would never hurt him. But here he was, dead, on my kitchen floor, me guilty as all get out.

A slow smile began to spread across my face. I killed the two-timing bastard. I killed him!

DING DONG...

Was that the doorbell?

DING DONG...

It was...I had to think quick. I had a dead husband on my kitchen floor and his whore at my front door. Quick, think of something....

A few seconds later, I answered the door and saw the wench face to face. A small bump under her shirt gave way that she was pregnant.

"Uhm...I know that this is awkward, but He told me to come here. For dinner." I smiled.

"Oh, of course, of course. He's in the kitchen, waiting at the table. We're all to sit down and thoroughly talk this out." She looked at me with a strange recognition behind her eyes.

"Are you ok with this?"

"Oh sure. He's just divorcing me. Nothing too serious. Come along, he's in the kitchen." I let her ahead of me, so that she would see him. She did, but she wasn't as smart as I thought she was.

"Hi honey...how are- oh...oh...my god...What did you do to him?" she fingered the prongs pertuding through his forehead. What the hell did it look like I did to him? She turned to me and her eyes widened in fright. I advanced on her, with a smile, holding the turkey carver my mother bought us for our wedding gift. I knew it would come in handy at some point.

Let's see if they're just as happy in hell.