‘You’re not the woman you think you are.’ Stephen whispered.
With wary eyes, he watched his wife rotate before the mirror in a black satin dress. He remembered when she used to dress so strikingly for him; when they were in love.
‘Did you say something, honey?’ she asked, as she sprayed musk to her throat; completing her dress-up session for the evening ahead.
‘No, I didn’t say a word.’ he replied.
‘Well, I’m done here honey. I probably won’t be back until late, so don’t wait up. You know what it’s like when the girls get together! Anyway, there’s lasagne in the fridge, if you get hungry later’.
‘Thanks.’ he replied.
She leaned over to kiss him goodbye, but he rejected her. The thought of her red poison lips upon his, caused acid to circulate around his stomach. How can she go on acting day after day like she loves me; to put on this one mad hell of a show?
As she turned to leave, his heart fell to his feet. He grabbed her throat and pushed her against the bedroom wall. As his knuckles whitened she choked several times, drawing at her last breath as she grabbed at thin air with her hands. She slid to the floor, her eyes glided to the back of her head. Then life left her.
‘I’d rather see you dead, than with him.’ he said, walking away.