Secrets

 My story for the Three Word Wednesday prompt.

Maribel soothed Kurt, her tender touch calming his nerves. He knew he should be talking with his wife and not a co-worker, but since his wife was the problem, that wouldn’t work. 

Kurt still couldn’t believe what he’d walked in on earlier. He knew his wife had a kinky side, but never anything like what he had witnessed.  

“All the blood,” he whispered again.

“Shhh, it’s ok,” Maribel said, although she knew it wasn’t. She couldn’t imagine walking in on her husband doing what Kurt had found his wife doing. She didn’t think there was enough counseling in the world to fix something like that.

Kurt’s cell phone vibrated again. It was the tenth time his wife had tried to reach him, and the tenth time he was ignoring her. He couldn’t talk to her yet. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to again. 

“How can I face her?” 

Maribel just rubbed his back. She had no answer. 

The door suddenly burst open. Kurt and Maribel jumped and spun around to see Marcus standing there, hair standing up on end, shirt untucked and tears in his eyes. 

“Get out!” Kurt yelled. “I don’t have anything to say to you.”

“Please, Kurt,” Marcus pleaded. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry? Is that all you have to say for yourself?”

“What else can I say?” Marcus asked. “There’s no excuse for sleeping with your brother’s wife.”

Kurt didn’t know what to say to that. He still couldn’t believe his wife, let alone his brother, would betray him. If he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he never would have.

“Just leave, Marc,” he told his brother. 

Maribel gasped when Marcus turned around, causing Kurt to raise his eyes to his brother. Seeing the bloody evidence soaking through Marcus’s shirt, Kurt covered his face with his hands and cried.

Only Once

Margie ripped the knife through the Italian leather car seat with a vengeance. She then started in on the tires, not skipping one. By the time she had spent her rage, the entire car was destroyed.

She still wasn’t satisfied, but couldn’t think of anywhere else to vent her anger. Jacob and his tramp were already taken care of and Marcus, Jacob’s best friend and confident, was in London. 

When two girls rounded the corner into the alley, Margie decided she would just wait for Marcus’s return. She never was very patient though so hoped he would be back soon.

***

“Are you going to be alright, Mr. James?” the detective asked Marcus.

“No, I’m not going to be alright, you ass. I just found my best friend slashed to death.”

“I’m sorry, Sir, I know this must be hard for you,” the detective said through gritted teeth. “But we need your help to find the person responsible for Mr. Parker and his girlfriend’s death.”

“She’s not his girlfriend,” Marcus told the detective. “At least not in the sense you’re talking about.”

“Explain please.”

“Jacob was dating Margie, but seeing Janet here on the side.” Marcus shook his head before adding, “He was always so proud of himself. Having sweet little Margie to take care of him at home and sexpot Janet to tend to other matters.”

“Maybe we should have a talk with Margie,” the detective said and took out a notebook. 

Marcus gave the man Margie’s address, but also told him he couldn’t imagine her doing anything like this. “She was always so docile. Jacob treated her like a doormat and she seemed to enjoy it.”

“We’ll still check her out. You never really know what will make a person snap.”

***

Margie watched the cops drop Marcus off at a downtown motel. She waited until the last car left, and then walked to the front desk and bribed the clerk for Marcus’s room number. 

“Who is it?” Marcus asked at her knock.

“The manager. I need you to sign some paperwork, Sir.”

“I thought the cops were taking care of all tha…” Marcus was saying as he opened the door. “Margie?”

“Hello, Marcus,” Margie said and pushed him back into the room, quickly closing the door.

“The police are looking for you, Margie,” Marcus told her and the whispered, “Jacob is dead.”

“Yeah, and his little slut is too,” Margie replied. 

The smile on her face chilled Marcus. “Did the cops talk to you already?” he asked, and started backing away from her.

“Not yet. I’ve been waiting to talk to you first.”

“Me? I was out of town. I have no idea who killed them.”

“Oh, I know who killed them,” Margie said. 

Marcus couldn’t believe his ears. He grabbed Margie by the shoulders and shook her. “If you know, you have to tell them so they can get the bastard,” he demanded.

He tried to move out of the way of Margie’s first thrust with the knife, but since it came as such a surprise, he wasn’t quick enough. “That would be the bitch, not bastard,” she told him while he lay bleeding on the floor at her feet.

“Why?” Marcus managed to ask.

“Because you only make a fool of me once,” Margie replied. She then bent over him and started stabbing. 

“Only once.”

My Own Terms

Sam,

I didn’t know how to tell you so decided I’d write you instead. 

I’m leaving.

I know you’ll pretend to miss me, and the children will be devastated, but I can’t stay. And even though I know it’s not her fault, every time I look at Daniela, I see her mother. Before I start treating her differently, I need to leave.

Please tell my mother I love her. It’s the least you can do after all I’ve done for you. 

I thought about divorcing you, but that wouldn’t really solve anything. Daniela would expect to come visit with Becky, and I’d still be forced to live the lie I’ve been living the last five years. I still can’t believe you talked me into lying to everyone, even my own child, but then again, maybe it is for the best.

It’s not Daniela’s fault, and I’d hate for Becky, or anyone for that matter, to treat her differently. She really is a beautiful little girl, just like her mother. I hope that’s the only thing she takes after the woman. I’d hate for Daniela to turn into the self-centered, husband-stealing woman her mother is. 

Although she didn’t steal you, did she? No, she just used you and left me with a child. 

Anyway, we’ve been over this before. I know you’ll find someone to take my place soon. And she’ll not have the problem I do. Neither child will be hers. I hope she treats them well.

It’s almost time for you to get home so I’ll close. I’m using the Glock. I know it’s your favorite.

Please keep the children from seeing the mess.

                                                                                                                                     Mary

Lie to Me

Stacy knew Jacob was leaving. She didn’t know when, but she knew it was inevitable. 

He’d been leaving too many clues.

She also knew why he was leaving. She knew, but there was nothing she could do about it. She didn’t know how you could make someone love you again.

If she could only go back to last month, she would do things differently. She never would have gone to the gym that day, and she definitely wouldn’t have gone home with the new dance instructor. 

A fight with Jacob was the excuse she had used to convince herself it was ok. At the time, it was easy to talk herself into trying something new. Now, she hated herself, almost as much as Jacob hated her.

Each morning when Jacob left for work, Stacy silently prayed that he would return that evening. She had been the perfect wife since the incident, but she knew it wasn’t helping. You really can’t take some things back, she realized. But she also knew that some couples got past indiscretions. 

She just didn’t believe Jacob knew how to do that. 

When the alarm clock signaled it was time for Jacob to get up, it was all Stacy could do not to reach for him. Instead, she lay and watched him get dressed. Something in his movements and lack of eye contact put her on edge.

At the door, Jacob started to say something, but Stacy stopped him. She could tell from the sadness in his eyes that the time had come, and instead of hearing him say it, she whispered, “Lie to me,” and softly kissed him goodbye.

Hell Hath No Fury

Susan was smiling when she walked in the door. 

It was always nice to get off work early, especially when her husband was home for the day as well. She thought they might go out for dinner and then come home and have a romantic evening in front of the fireplace.

She was still smiling when she started up the stairs.

Dinner at Ricardo’s and a stop at the market for some after dinner wine were on her mind when she got to the top of the landing. A giggle followed by a groan caught Susan’s attention about the time she got to the bedroom.

Susan was no longer smiling when she opened her bedroom door.

Her husband was on top of a woman who looked vaguely familiar, thrusting for all he was worth. The woman was writhing underneath him in a position Susan was sure had to hurt.

Susan was crying when she slowly backed out of the room.

Tiptoeing down the hall, she went into her husband’s den, found the key in his top desk drawer, and opened the gun cabinet. She pulled out her daddy’s old shotgun and loaded two shells. 

Susan was smiling again when she walked back into the bedroom she had shared with her husband for ten years.

“Hello, Dear,” she said to get their attention. When both her husband and the woman, who were sitting up together now, turned, Susan readied the gun and shot. 

Susan smiled as she watched the bodies slide off the bed and onto the floor.