This wonderful blogfest ~Blogfest of Death~ is hosted by my fellow CTW-er Tessa . Thanks Tessa, for such an awesome blogfest. Anytime I can kill someone is a bright, happy day for me! Metaphorically speaking, of course! :)
So, for Tessa's blogfest I decided to kill someone random just for the sport of it!! Mwahhhhhhaaaaaa
*clears throat* O_o What?
My little Snippet which I've titled simply "Friends"
Suki Wilson cried softly into her hands. Blood smeared across her hands, face, and covered her body in the rich acidic coppery scent.
She had loved Seth so much, and hated him almost as much. But did that excuse her actions? How could she have done what she did? How could she have allowed him to aggravate her to this extreme? She’d always known he could bring out the worst in her, but was this really it?
Who the hell was she now that she’d committed this act? This strange, insane woman, crying because she’d killed the man she loved most or was she the same woman as when she’d gotten out of bed this morning? Would God now open the gates of Heaven to strike her dead and watch, laughing, as he sent her to the pits of Hell?
An eternity ago, when she picked up the knife, all she wanted to do was shut him up for two seconds. In one fit of rage, it ended up being permanent. A hysterical laugh erupted from her throat.
Well, dead men didn’t talk, did they?
But what happened to the women that killed them?
A Maximum Security Women’s Prison, where a woman nicknamed Butch made you regret every dishonest thing you’d done since birth.
Oh, and then there was Hell… well, there was no need to think of that one. It made the Women’s Prison a vacation.
Oh, God… or worse… she’d be damned with a guilty conscience that made one place both and ten times more unbearable.
She couldn’t go to prison. Hell was the one place she couldn’t control, but prison she could.
What on earth could she possibly say to the police that would convince them that she hadn’t intended to kill Seth? That he was damn annoying and didn’t know when to shut up? That after fifteen years, she’d finally reached her limit and forced him to shut up? Maybe she could just be honest, tell them how she knew he loved her more than anything, but continually disrespected her with near daily emotional abuse.
She shook her head. That wouldn’t work. They’ll still lock ya up and throw away the key. Do you realize how many women use that “abuse” excuse for murder?
Just a mere two feet from Seth’s lifeless body, she stood and paced as her brain accessed the facts and possibilities. The only sound was her labored breathing, her footsteps silenced by the thick carpeting. Rubbing her forehead along the brow line, she forced her mind to work.
She could go to the cops. Admit what she’d done and spend the rest of her life behind bars. But that really wasn’t an option. She knew murder was wrong, but she also knew her conscience would remind her everyday what she’d done, and that would have to be punishment enough.
If it weren’t for that five inch long gash across his throat she could possibly make it look like an accident. Everyone who knew Seth knew how accident prone he was. But there was no way someone could accidentally slit their own throat, not even Seth. So an accident was out of the question.
How could she get rid of him? As though his death had nothing to do with her?
Glancing around the small, dim living room her mind worked frantically for a solution.
Her gaze landed on his latest fishing magazine and an idea began to form in her mind. As she gathered up his fishing supplies, she wondered if regular everyday fish ate the flesh of humans. She guessed anything was possible. She was a regular everyday housewife, and she’d just murdered her husband.
Twenty minutes later she tossed his rod and reel in the back of his truck along with the tackle box, his favorite lounging chair, his ice chest, and the other things she’d seen him take fishing on occasions.
She walked back into their – her – living room, she stopped where his blood soaked body lay on the deep maroon carpet. It should be easy enough to hide the stain until she could ‘remodel’ her house… or sell it.
“Guess that color was a good idea after all.”
After several attempts to drag his body outside, Suki released her hold on Seth’s shoulders. Only five feet from where his body had fallen, she let his head plop against the floor. She’d never get him out the door, much less anywhere in his truck. She hadn’t anticipated his large frame when she’d decided on this plan.
A lump formed in her throat and tears burned against her lids, as she fell into a crumbled mess onto the floor near Seth’s body. When the police saw his truck loaded for a fishing trip that would make anything she said more suspicious. She’d never be able to pull this off. The end was coming. The only thing left for her to do was call the police herself.
The song “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” broke through her sobs. Confused, she stared around.
It’s your cell phone. She finally realized.
“Marissa.” She breathed on a sigh of relief.
It was her best friend, Marissa Evans’, ring tone. Scrambling across the carpet in the direction of the music, she found her purse slung on the couch. As the final notes came close, she dug the small cell phone from its holder and flipped it open. Sobbing, she barely uttered hello.
“What’s going on, Suki? I have this… feeling.” Marissa was always getting feelings. They’d been such good friends for so long they tended to anticipate what each other were feeling. Just hearing Marissa’s voice calmed her enough to think.
“Oh, my God. You’ll never believe…. I mean, it just happened. And now-” The words came out rushed. Suki barely understood them.
“I’m on my way.”
Suki wanted – no, she needed – Marissa with her, but that wasn’t best for Marissa. “No. I…. You can’t come over. I’ve done something terrib-”
“Suki. You’re in it, I’m in it. To the end. I’m on my way.”
Before Suki could argue any further, the phone was dead.
As dead as Seth. But the phone she could bring back. She could call Marissa back. Refuse to allow her to come over. She could call the cops and have them here before Marissa could show up. Her options were huge as far as the dead cell phone went. But she did nothing. She sat there, phone still clutched in her hand, five minutes later when Marissa showed up.
Not bothering to knock, Marissa charged in the room.
Two hours later, both women covered in a mixture of blood and mud, Suki knew what the true meaning of the word ‘friend’ was.
Okay now, ladies and gents... rush over to Tessa's blog and read the other entries... they are bound to be murderous fun! :-)