The Fruit Of Revenge

He left her. Cold, damp and uncomfortable. She wasn't dead yet. At least not quite. But he tried to take something of hers without permission. Her life. And she would not take that lying down. She never did. She was lying down face up in her bathtub. The water in front of her eyes gave her an impression of seeing through heat waves on a very long stretch of highway. He would repay. She would make sure of that.

After 5 years of being with her, telling her that he loved her and wouldn't ever leave her alone, her husband had changed. The past five minutes had shown her that he had. He made her feel that. She could still hear him in the house. Probably trying to cover up the mess. There was blood in quite a few places around the house. The kitchen had temporarily been transformed into a butcher shop with her being the prize meat on sale. She could feel the sting on her thigh and stomach. The water was being a bitch to her wounds. The gashes were shallow but long. They made her want to cringe. But she didn't. She was stronger than that. Much stronger. From somewhere at the back of her mind, the thought of "what doesn't kill you only makes you stronger" rose up, comforting her swollen temper to a boil.

She was cool under pressure. Working under a maniac like her boss had taught her valuable lessons. Keeping her calm even when he did the most inappropriate things to her was one of them. But she made sure he never did it again. And he now maintained a minimum of 2 feet distance from her. Even in the swanky elevator. She was dangerous when her mind was made up to be. And right now, lying at the bottom of the tub, with the blood from her wounds merging with the water around her, her mind was far from dangerous. It was murderous.

She would feign death until he left the house. She knew he wouldn't come back for her "body". He was too much of a coward for that. 5 of the best years of her life were spent with this son of a bitch, and she had to hit back. She would take her time with the plan but she would do it somehow.

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Five years down the road and he couldn't take it anymore. He didn't love her. Never had, never would. His father made him marry her. The snotty, high horse woman that she was. She had bought him. That's what it felt like. Bought him like a farmer at a fair. 5 years of lying to her, lying to the woman that he really loved, lying to himself.

And then she died. Just like that. The love of his life died. Her flower face, puckered kissing lips, warm heart and open arms would never comfort him. She had gone forever. And he knew the bitch of a wife he had was the reason she died. Driven over by a Porsche that was unregistered. And he knew that the Porsche belonged to his wife.

He couldn't live the lie anymore. The reason for his lie had to go. The reason for his miserable condition had to be eliminated. For good.

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She knew he was having an affair. He was never happy to come home, but he was more than glad to go out. She could smell the female scent on him, even after his bath. She could sense it on her skin. And it made her see red. She had to get rid of her. She had to make him see that there could only be one person in his life and she was the only choice.

But he had surprised her. It seemed that she was the problem to him. And not the other way around. It made her taste murder on her tongue and venom on her lips. And now, that he had tried to do her in, she would have to take vengeance.
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The fruit of revenge is sweeter when ripe they say. So she would wait. Time had no meaning for her. Time took on a whole new meaning to her now.It was deceiving. It made you believe that old wounds would heal. It made you feel like you've forgotten the worst parts of your life. But worst of all, it makes you believe that you've forgiven the ones who had wronged you. Newsflash- it lied.

She waited 2 and a half solid years. She personally dug out a body from the cemetery by the lake house, done in the pitch of night, and had washed it and let it rot in the water for a while. She even pulled out every single tooth in the dead woman's body to make sure her dental records could not be cross checked. She couldn't stand the stench at first, but the thought of getting back at her dear ex-husband kept her going. She changed her name, got plastic surgery done and quit her job. The quitting had been easy. Nobody likes to see a dead woman walking around giving in her resignation letter. Especially when you just attended the deceased's funeral a day ago. Of course, it took a little more than cajoling for her to keep her boss's mouth shut. But then, the threat of a crude castration by a so called dead woman in the dead of night does make it easier.

She got a new job, new face and most importantly, new life. She waited while her anger stewed, bubbled and boiled. She tracked him down, and found out every detail about him. It was then that she realized that she had actually known little of her husband. He had lied to her from the very start. From his favorite drink to his preferred cologne. He had kept his entire life a secret from her right beneath her nose. How could he have done that? Didn't she love him enough? Hadn't she done enough to please him in bed and otherwise? The traitor! He definitely had to go.
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He felt free. Absolutely free. The postmortem came up with an overdose of drug abuse as the cause of death. They even said that the 2 long gashes could have come from hurting herself against the glass sink in the bathroom. He didn't remember the sink shattering but if that was what it said, who was he to question it? Especially when it turned out to favour him most appropriately. But strangely though, the doctors said that her teeth had been missing. Odd. He hadn't hit her anywhere close to her face. It was too perceptible. And neither was the sink jagged. Ah well, the worst part of his life was over. Finally. Now he could concentrate on actually doing what he loved best. Starting his own daily. But there was the sticky issue of going into mourning for the bitch. Keeping up appearances and such. Luckily he was a very good actor. Who else could bring the house down as the demented Hamlet?