Cheater

Rage

I dabbed the towel against my moist forehead. The perspiration dripped down soaking my brow. I held the blade firmly in my hands. Squeezing it so hard my knuckles turned white. 

I heard him laughing upstairs. That whore. I knew he had another girl with him. I looked at the ring on my left hand. Lies. He didn't know I was home. I was supposed to be on a work vacation. He thought he was so smart. I'll show him. I'll show him I'm better.

I slowly crept out of the basement. Placing my feet carefully on the steps so that they wouldn't creek. He lounged on his expensive, hand-made, recliner with a skinny blonde. She wore a white, lace nightgown. It cradled her curves perfectly. She looked beautiful. 

"YOU SLUT" I ran at them screaming tears burned down my face. 

"Janet! What are you-?"

I slit the bitch's throat and then stabbed my husband in the chest. Over and over and over and over and- oh god. What a mess! I dragged their bloody corpses to the basement. A laugh escaped my mouth. My husband, the town mortician, being cremated in his own house, by his murderer, with his little sidepiece. I grabbed a scrub brush and got to work. Scrub scrub scrub! In a few hours, the blood was gone. I burned the clothes I was wearing, which is a shame because I loved that little dress. Oh well.