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I suppose I must have gone mad for a bit. In truth I do not know what



possessed me to commit such a heinous act. How could I, a God-fearing woman, do



something so horrible? How could one woman, who was so happy one moment fall



into depths of despair so deep that it would cause her to do the worst thing one



person could ever do?



I assure you that I am now in full possession of my faculties and I remember



every detail of that night. That night, oh so unforgiving and cold, how it haunts my



dreams. That night stays to the forefront of my mind, consuming my every thought



and clouding them with horror at my own self. Oh how the mighty have fallen.



This act that I committed, so cold, so evil, so harsh will never let me rest, will



never release it's claws from around my throat and give me reprieve.Oh how that



one moment in time consumes me, darkening the very world with which I live in.



This guilt knows no mercy, shows no sign of allowing me a time of peace, even when



i'm sleeping, virtually dead to the world. I, and I alone, know the extent of my



crime, for I oh so cleverly hid the act that no one, not even the police, knew of my



crime. Now, though, the knowing is consuming me and I must release it. I need to



escape.



I read once in a paper, oh so long ago it seems, of an act such as this having



been committed. A crime of passion, they called it, a mere act of a desperate person



who lost their sanity in the heat of the moment. I never knew what that meant



until that one moment, but I swore upon everything that was holy that I would



never do such an act. I would never commit such an act of such unforgivable



proportions.



Once spotless was my soul, and now tainted and black from that one act, the



one bad thing that I had ever done in my life. How could I have fallen so far from



grace? How was it ever possible that I could lose sight of everything that I had ever



been taught and held so dear to me all these years?



The madness of that night taunts me even now, two months after that one



act, tormenting me with it's cruel reminders. How cruel amd yet so ironic it is that I



should be so sane at this point in time, where before I lost all will and gave



myself up into the madness for one night. Why could the insanity not have stayed?



Why leave me like this, living in a cold, dark, stained world? For now that is all I



see, I take no pleasure from this world that I once found so beautiful. Oh Fates, how



I curse you!



Now I know that you are wondering what it is that I could have done that is



so bad that it still plagues me. Well then, I shall tell you, but I give you fair warning



that while I shall tell you what has happened, I shall not tell you all the gory little



details.



It was a stormy, humid night in August that greeted me on my return. My



beloved house that I had not seen for so long, oh how I missed you. I had been gone



for two months to take care of my sick father in San Francisco and my husband



stayed behind because he couldn't get off of work. I smiled, I couldn't wait to see



Jason, I had been away from him for far too long.



I paid the taxi driver, grabbed my suitcases and walked up the pathway to



the front door. I opened it and walked into the warm, inviting atmosphere of the



front hall. Soft light flooded the room, highlighting the pale yellow walls and the oak



flooring. I sighed with happiness, I was finally home.



Noises, a breathy moan filled my ears. I looked upwards towards the ceiling,



our bedroom was right there above me. A terrible rage filled me, clouding my



normal sense of right and wrong and slowly taking away my sanity. I knew exactly



what that sound was, and I knew from whence it was coming from. Jason, the man I



so loved, my husband, was in bed with another woman.



I placed my suitcase on the ground and walked towards the kitchen, where I



grabbed a butcher knife. I ran the blade over my thumb and watched as the



crimson droplets welled up inside the cut and spilled over. I did not feel any pain as



I did this, for it was like I was outside of my body, looking down at myself.



I walked back into the fron hall and walked stealthily up the stairs. The



noises got louder, filling my ears and fueling the red haze of rage to incredible



proportions. Dark thoughts filled my head, graphic visions of what I was about to



do shadowing my mind and throwing caution out the door.



My conscience, which always chattered away when I was about to do some



deed beyond the par, was strangely silent now. The betrayal I felt now was so great



that it overrode my usual gentle, good, forgiving nature and turned me into



something that I did not, and dare not recognize.



The charlatan, how could he do this to me? All his declarations of love and



devotion, our marriage vows meant nothing to him. If they did, they sure didn't



mean much to him when it came to jumping in the sack with some other woman.



Our marriage, which I had thought so wonderful and perfect, was nothing but a lie,



a sham.



I stopped in front of our bedroom door, a solid oak that stood between me



and my quarry. This door, which had once led to such happiness, was now the only



thing standing between me and the horror that was hidden behind it. This night, my



coming home night, which was supposed to be filled with such happiness, has now



become a horror and shattered all delusions of the grandeur of my marriage and my



life as I knew it.



Tears welled up, blurring my vision and spilling down my cheeks. I paid



them no heed, for my attention was instead focused on the now hateful, taunting



door in front of me. A feeling of hate and revulsion welled up in my chest, nearly



choking me with it's bitterness.



One final sigh was heard from within the room, and then a blessed silence. I



waited outside that big oak door, allowing them time to get drowsy and start to fall



asleep. I wanted the element of surprise, for my husband was a big man and if



he was fully awake when the time come, he would overpower me quickly. Finally,



soft snores emenated from within the room and I knew my time had come.



I slowly and oh so carefully opened the door, peeking inside at my dozing



husband with his sleeping trollop by his side. My vision centered on that scene, he



sleeping so peacefully with his arms wrapped around another woman, a small smile



on his face and she with her hand lying on his chest.



The rage took over, and I knew what I had to do. I opened the door wider



and crept in on silent feet until I stood over my husband. Husband, ha what a joke.



He was no longer my husband, the man I had known, loved and married. He was a



stranger to me now.



I slashed the knife down towards his body, cutting his windpipe. He made



barely a sound, nothing that was enough to awaken the sleeping woman beside him.



I walked over to her and did the same and watched as they lay dying, choking upon



their own blood.



When they were finally dead I gazed down at them both impassively. I felt



nothing, just cold, a cold that reached all the way down to my bones, but I knew I



was not done yet. I still needed to hide the bodies and get rid of the evidence. This



could not be found out, and if it was, it could not be linked to me.



I took them, one at a time, straining all the way, to the lake out behind our



house. I dumped both bodies in a boat after I had drilled a few holes in the bottom



and then pushed it offshore. I stood there watching as the boat slowly filled with



water and sunk.



I walked back into the house and up the stairs to 'the room' and cleaned up. I



scrubbed the floor, took the sheets and burned them in the fireplace, and cleaned



the mattress as best I could, flipping it over after I was done. I packed a couple



suitcases full of Jason's clothes and wrote a note stating that he was leaving and



would never be coming back. I knew how to forge his handwriting for he had me do



it for him many times in the past. After that was done, I took the suitcases and



threw those into the lake also.



After everything was taken care of, the reality of what I had just done hit me



full force. I had just murdered two people, one of them my own husband. I killed in



cold blood, not caring of what the consequences would later be. I was now what I



had so despised in the past, a cold blooded killer. I had fallen off my golden pedestal



and was now a tarnished being, stained with the blood of my husband and his lover.



That night was now naught but a memory, something that happened two



months passed, but still as fresh as if it had happened last night and as sharp as the



knife that I tossed into the lake. The scene was burned into my retinas, scarring my



perfect world and blackening my soul.I would never be the same carefree girl that I



was once, I am now merely a shell of my former self. I barely eat and hardly sleep



because to sleep means to dream and I do not want to dream.



This brings me to now, this moment as I hold a knife over my right wrist.



The time has come for me to end this torment, my self imposed hell. I will end it



once and for all and finally be at peace.



I slide the blade over the inside of my wrist, flinching as the pain greets me,



and then do the same to the other wrist. I watch as the blood wells up from the cuts,



spilling down my arm and falling in crimson droplets onto the once pristine white



carpet.



I am starting to get dizzy now and lay down on the floor, my breath coming



in pants. The pain is overwhelming, but slowly starts to fade as black dots mar my



vision. Slowly the black takes over my vision and I breathe one last breath and give



myself up to darkness.