Nancy's Gone Green! eco boutique - Betty B Sula Bracelet Black...
$8.99 - nancysgonegreen.com
Bead bangle »
$8.99 - nancysgonegreen.com
Bead bangle »
Monday, January 10, 2011
Between Love & Honor Chapter 3 Unknown POV
I walked into a local church, feeling the need to confess to someone about what I had done. I was still dressed in a red tee shirt, denim short shorts, and my favorite pair of black stiletto heels. Mike may have been a cheating asshole but he probably didn’t deserve to die. Have his nuts cut off…maybe; but killing him may have been a tad extreme. I noticed one of the priests getting ready for confession so I opened and entered one of the wooden doors, earning me a few looks from some of the other people in the church. I guess my outfit wasn’t something they usually saw in such a sacred building. I had never formally been to church- Mom was always changing her mind on religion and Dad was always at the police station. But God hears, everyone right? To say I was nervous would be the understatement of the century. I took a deep breath as the priest sat down on the other side of the confessional and slid open the little window between us. After asking for forgiveness, like I had seen in many movies, I jumped right into my story.
“I don’t know where to start, so let me get to the good parts. You might want to cross your legs. I’ve got envy, I’ve got greed, anything that you need and I’m not above having to beg. You see there was this boy and he tore my heart in two, so I had to lay him eight feet in the ground.” I adjusted myself so I was now leaning against the hard wooden walls of the box, staring through the little window into the box where this religious man sat listening to me.
“Father, there is one other thing, just one simple request. I hear you know God. If you could give him a nod in my direction I would be in your debt. I didn’t want to do it Father, but I caught him with another woman in the bed I made him. So I put him in a grave and now there’s no one to get me off when I want. It’s a drag. The next day on the television they identified him by the marks that I made and now I’m on the run. Why did I have to kill him when he was the best I ever had?” I got up, leaving the priest to mull over everything I had just told him, hoping against all hope that he wouldn’t say anything to the police.
I walked out of the church with a smile on my face, not because I felt better about what I had done, but because I had just relived the whole thing by telling it to the priest. My work would definitely give the police a hard time. I wore gloves, eliminating any opportunity for new finger prints. I also used bleach when cleaning up the scene, disintegrating any DNA left in the blood stains and burnt the mattress to insure that they did not find any evidence.
Recalling the damage I did to Mike’s body made my smile shift to a grin that, I’m sure, scared the people I passed on the street. The image of Mike’s body, with the seven stab wounds, each allowing his blood to diffuse the smell of salt and rust into the bed room, filled my mind. I made sure none of the wounds were fatal, since the moron had inhaled enough allergens that afternoon to kill a man twice his size.
When he excused himself early from dinner, I couldn’t help but tap my fingertips together under the table. Everything was going according to plan. When I went upstairs, to make sure he was okay of course, the cheating son of a bitch had passed out from lack of oxygen. It made it so easy to carry out my plan. I hadn’t needed to worry about someone hearing him scream or him fighting back. I sank down onto my front step, sighing at the warm feelings I got from revisiting that night.
“I don’t know where to start, so let me get to the good parts. You might want to cross your legs. I’ve got envy, I’ve got greed, anything that you need and I’m not above having to beg. You see there was this boy and he tore my heart in two, so I had to lay him eight feet in the ground.” I adjusted myself so I was now leaning against the hard wooden walls of the box, staring through the little window into the box where this religious man sat listening to me.
“Father, there is one other thing, just one simple request. I hear you know God. If you could give him a nod in my direction I would be in your debt. I didn’t want to do it Father, but I caught him with another woman in the bed I made him. So I put him in a grave and now there’s no one to get me off when I want. It’s a drag. The next day on the television they identified him by the marks that I made and now I’m on the run. Why did I have to kill him when he was the best I ever had?” I got up, leaving the priest to mull over everything I had just told him, hoping against all hope that he wouldn’t say anything to the police.
I walked out of the church with a smile on my face, not because I felt better about what I had done, but because I had just relived the whole thing by telling it to the priest. My work would definitely give the police a hard time. I wore gloves, eliminating any opportunity for new finger prints. I also used bleach when cleaning up the scene, disintegrating any DNA left in the blood stains and burnt the mattress to insure that they did not find any evidence.
Recalling the damage I did to Mike’s body made my smile shift to a grin that, I’m sure, scared the people I passed on the street. The image of Mike’s body, with the seven stab wounds, each allowing his blood to diffuse the smell of salt and rust into the bed room, filled my mind. I made sure none of the wounds were fatal, since the moron had inhaled enough allergens that afternoon to kill a man twice his size.
When he excused himself early from dinner, I couldn’t help but tap my fingertips together under the table. Everything was going according to plan. When I went upstairs, to make sure he was okay of course, the cheating son of a bitch had passed out from lack of oxygen. It made it so easy to carry out my plan. I hadn’t needed to worry about someone hearing him scream or him fighting back. I sank down onto my front step, sighing at the warm feelings I got from revisiting that night.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Between Love and Honor Chapter 2 Jasper POV
I slammed my hand into the phone sitting beside my bed trying to make the shrill ringing stop. I growled, picking up the phone, while keeping my eyes shut.
“You are an ass Peter. Do you know what time it is?” I said aggravated.
“Well good morning to you too. How did you know it was me? And to answer your question, yes I do know what time it is but none of the guys here wanted to call you. You are kind of scary first thing in the morning.” Peter said, chuckling.
“Well you would be too if every time you had a day off you were woken up at ungodly hours by the department. What is so fucking important that it couldn’t wait for the sun to come up in,” I squinted at the clock, 4 am, “three hours?” I bitched, sitting up in bed and ran my hand over my face in an attempt to wake up. I pulled the worn quilt off of my legs and placed my feet on the cool hardwood floor, shivering slightly.
“We have a body about an hour from here. Boss told us to call you in since you know the swamps better than anyone on the force.” Peter replied, tiredness seeping into his voice.
“Fine. Be here in an hour with the strongest coffee you can find, preferably in an IV.” I said, as I hung up the phone and jumped into the shower.
Forty-five minutes and a ridiculously hot shower later, I was sitting in the front seat of Peter’s black Chevy Impala, with a cup of the shittiest coffee I have ever tasted. Peter rambled on about the case and I could have cared less about what he was saying. My mind was focused on thinking about anything besides the swamp I was sure we were about to encounter.
“Jesus Peter, what pot did you pour this shit out of? It tastes like ass.” I said, taking another swig. At least he had followed my instructions to make sure it was strong.
“The commissioner’s office. He wasn’t drinking it so I figured he wouldn’t miss a cup,” Peter replied, as he turned down an all too familiar back road.
“You are an ass Peter. Do you know what time it is?” I said aggravated.
“Well good morning to you too. How did you know it was me? And to answer your question, yes I do know what time it is but none of the guys here wanted to call you. You are kind of scary first thing in the morning.” Peter said, chuckling.
“Well you would be too if every time you had a day off you were woken up at ungodly hours by the department. What is so fucking important that it couldn’t wait for the sun to come up in,” I squinted at the clock, 4 am, “three hours?” I bitched, sitting up in bed and ran my hand over my face in an attempt to wake up. I pulled the worn quilt off of my legs and placed my feet on the cool hardwood floor, shivering slightly.
“We have a body about an hour from here. Boss told us to call you in since you know the swamps better than anyone on the force.” Peter replied, tiredness seeping into his voice.
“Fine. Be here in an hour with the strongest coffee you can find, preferably in an IV.” I said, as I hung up the phone and jumped into the shower.
Forty-five minutes and a ridiculously hot shower later, I was sitting in the front seat of Peter’s black Chevy Impala, with a cup of the shittiest coffee I have ever tasted. Peter rambled on about the case and I could have cared less about what he was saying. My mind was focused on thinking about anything besides the swamp I was sure we were about to encounter.
“Jesus Peter, what pot did you pour this shit out of? It tastes like ass.” I said, taking another swig. At least he had followed my instructions to make sure it was strong.
“The commissioner’s office. He wasn’t drinking it so I figured he wouldn’t miss a cup,” Peter replied, as he turned down an all too familiar back road.
Between Love and Honor Chapter 1 Unknown POV
I looked at the knife in my hand, watching as it fell to the floor, clattering against the tile Mike had just laid down a few days ago. The bloody tip of the knife created interesting patterns that could have distracted me except for the sound reverberating off the walls. I finally looked at his body, laying there in the bed I made him when he moved in with us months ago.
Crap, there is no way I’m going to be able to move him by myself now. He is 145 pounds of dead weight. I thought to myself.
Mike’s black f-350 was parked in the driveway, so all I had to do was get him down the stairs without waking anyone and then drive the car out to the swamp; the animals should take care of the rest.
I wrapped him carefully in the flat sheet from his bed and slowly dragged his body down the stairs, cautious to avoid the squeaky treads and loose floorboards. When I shoved Mike into the front seat I realized I had made one crucial mistake. I had forgotten about the video camera Dad had installed across the street when he had a dangerous case in the department.
I drove and drove, until I was certain no one was following and that I was far enough out of town that I wouldn’t be connected to the murder. Dumping his body, I finally felt like I was able to say good bye. Now, to take care of that pesky camera and get myself out of the sticky situation I had created.
Crap, there is no way I’m going to be able to move him by myself now. He is 145 pounds of dead weight. I thought to myself.
Mike’s black f-350 was parked in the driveway, so all I had to do was get him down the stairs without waking anyone and then drive the car out to the swamp; the animals should take care of the rest.
I wrapped him carefully in the flat sheet from his bed and slowly dragged his body down the stairs, cautious to avoid the squeaky treads and loose floorboards. When I shoved Mike into the front seat I realized I had made one crucial mistake. I had forgotten about the video camera Dad had installed across the street when he had a dangerous case in the department.
I drove and drove, until I was certain no one was following and that I was far enough out of town that I wouldn’t be connected to the murder. Dumping his body, I finally felt like I was able to say good bye. Now, to take care of that pesky camera and get myself out of the sticky situation I had created.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)