Warning!! Military time/24-hour clock is used. If you aren't familiar with the 24-hour clock, after 12:00 (noon) the hours number continue to go up.
1:00pm would be 13:00
2:00pm would be 14:00 and so on
At midnight (12:00am) the clock resets to 00:00
Enjoy!
You and your husband both worked. You worked from eight in the morning to later hours of the afternoon for five days a week while your husband tended to leave thirty minutes or so later than you. He would often stay at his job late into the night. However, on some occasions, he'd come home before you.
Nevertheless, him coming home at a reasonable time was a rarity. You would always leave him something to eat, whether it be take-out or some of your home cooking as you were usually asleep around the times that he came home late. Your husband did the same for you when you get stuck with overtime. He would even stay up and wait, something which worried you but also made you feel special at the same time.
On one particular day, you were the one that had to stay in late. Of course, that wasn't an infrequent occurrence, but it was the beginning of what your husband called "a close call".
You had stayed at work to finish an important document for your supervisor. She would have stayed with you to help but she was dealing with some pulsing migraines all day and you insisted that she go home and rest.
You wanted to turn in the document before midnight, which you successfully did with time to spare. You honestly thought you would be stuck in the office for way longer, happy that you were wrong. By 21:15 exactly, you had finished proofreading the document. At 21:21 you had said your goodbyes to the guard outside of your work building.
At 21:39 you had reached your street. You had driven a little bit over the speed limit, but it wasn't enough to get pulled over. You got home by 21:40 and you shoes off by 21:43.
By 22:30 you were all snug in your husband's strong arms.
The big jump in time in the middle of all that was just enough time for a relaxing shower with him—a particularly hot and steamy shower that is.
Now that doesn't sound like too much. It was actually a pretty normal and uneventful day and it felt like that because on your end, it was; but on your husband's end, it was everything but.
At 19:30, Edgar was due to speak to someone who had their gaze locked on you for a concerning amount of time. The man was an IT guy at Edgar's father's company, the company you happened to work for. The man had hit on you multiple times and Edgar had seen him do it, watching over you via the security cameras in the guard's station.
Edgar couldn't help but make sure you were safe when you were outside the house. You had a tendency of being too kind, never saying no, and letting people walk all over you just because he knew you found joy in being nice to others. He knew you could stand up for yourself, he had seen you do it a few times and he trusted your capabilities to stay safe but...
He knew people didn't take you serious. When you tried to be abrasive, it was the visual equivalent of a puppy growling.
So when he saw the large, sloppy, oaf of a man speak to you, touch your lower back with his grimy hands, and talk down to you like you were inept when it came to working a simple computer well... it just sent Edgar into a insatiable rage. And he knew it bothered you too, not because of him hitting on you—no you were too oblivious to notice—but because you had taken a class about working with computers and troubleshooting issues with said computers and the IT man was treating you like a old woman who was only familiar with dial-up.
So Edgar arranged for a meeting with the man, Neil his name was, to speak with him at a bar downtown. Of course, Neil accepted his invitation—not like he really had a choice—because in his eyes, the son of the President of the company that employed him, the company that payed all his bills, wanted to speak to him. It was an honor to be in the presence of your husband, an opportunity for promotions and brown-nosing and maybe even a friendship that could involve fancy dinners and vip section access in every club. It was his chance to use his ingratiating behavior to get even higher on the social hierarchy.
They got sat down and got some of the most expensive whiskey on the top shelf. In a short glass, the whiskey was poured no higher than an inch in. Neil spoke about how he could hold more, but Edgar scolded him.
"Savor it. Enjoy the taste." Edgar said in a cool tone.
The two slowly worked into a continuous conversation. They spoke mostly about work, but that was all they had in common. Neil seemed to boast about his achievements and complimented everything about the company as if Edgar actually cared about whatever nonsense was coming out of his mouth. Edgar wanted to roll his eyes at the obviously servile behavior Neil exhibited. He knew Edgar only as his father's son, the man ignorant to the fact that the gentleman before him was your husband.
If Neil had treated you as well as he was treating him right now, maybe he would have been nicer. Things would have been done in a much more merciful manner.
Edgar proceeded to act brand new. He pretended to be a technician in-training—a spoiled rich boy with no extensive technical knowledge—and Mr. Niel was supposed to be "his boss".
To be the boss of the owner's son, Edgar saw the slight change in Neil's expression as that fact clicked in his mind. It sent him one a power trip and he somehow grew more narcissistic and vile.
The man that was acting toadyish yet arrogant to him earlier changed into something more unbearable. Edgar got to meet the real Neil first hand.
He was a pig.
The unhealthy, jaundice toned, neck-bearded asshole was an absolute degenerate; his eyes feasting on any woman that was remotely nice to him. The way he talked about the women who worked in his department, "Innocent Carla on the seventh floor, Little Miss secretary Tattum, The secret slut (y/n)."
The man talked about how you were just asking for it, they way you would lean over your desk, trying to show him what was wrong with your system. Your skirt would hike up, showing your supple thighs and if he got lucky, he would see your innocent patterned underwear. He spoke about you like he knew everything, even going as far as to point out certain marking on certain parts of your skin.
and Edgar wanted to hear all he had to say, sounding the most interested when Neil even dared to speak your name.
For some reason, in Neil's mind, you were just pretending to be an angel. In his mind, you were a freak in bed, a woman that was open for anything. You were some type of sex crazed demon to him and he had said multiple times that he would give you what you wanted if you asked. You were a quiet little mouse, a small thing who enjoyed being chased. You were aware of what you did to him and you liked it. Neil just knew you liked it.
It was after the first hour of listening to that man degrade his wife that Edgar decided he should be terminated from his job. Neil knew nothing about you. All he saw was your beauty. All he saw was your make up and your tight clothes, but he never seen your bed head, or the bags under your eyes after a long day, or your face when a sad scene happened in a movie. He had never seen you when you were stressed about deadlines and your skin breaks out, or that face you make when you eat something you really like, or your eyes when you felt loved.
He had never seen you.
At 20:45, Edgar had beat the living shit out of the IT man from your building. Dragging his tall body behind the building and kicking him until he bled. At 21:12, Edgar had killed that man, scoffing lowly as he gazed down at Neil's pathetic corpse. He just couldn't work with the company anymore. Someone like him would ruin the company name. He was just a walking lawsuit and a nuisance. At least, that's what your husband told himself to justify his actions.
At 21:14, Edgar had payed the owner of the bar, a dear friend of his, to keep quiet and dispose of the body. He would owe him one for that, that was for sure. At 21:30, Edgar reached the street in which your house was located, and at 21:39 He had gotten rid of his bloody clothes and got in the shower.
Soon after turning on the water, he heard the front door close. He tried hard to scrub all the dried blood from his skin, almost scratching at it. He went faster than he should have, he would admit, but he had a feeling that it was necessary to do so.
His intuition was right to warn him as you had knocked on the door ever so softly. He almost threw up his heart when you had shyly asked to join him in the shower, your voice muffled by the bathroom door. Unlike Neil's description of you, you were a shy little thing. Even with your own husband, you couldn't even tell him what your truly wanted from him. You would get so embarrassed just to even ask for a kiss. You even asking to join him was as bold as he had ever seen you... aside from your honeymoon night together.
The man was lucky, one for having a wife like you, and two for being so skilled when it came to cleaning blood off of things. He wondered if you would have even minded that he killed for you...
But knowing you, you would be afraid of him.
Alternatively, you might even be afraid for him.
But he didn't want to think about that. He was happy to let you join him in the shower, making sure there was no blood residue on any of the clean white tiles.
He made sure to kiss you all over as soon as he saw your form. You two didn't do too much, though at some point he did have you pushed up against the cold shower wall.
That night, as you slept soundly in his arms after your oh so hot shower, he thought...
'That was a close call.'
Just a fun little thing I thought of. Sorry for any errors