Until Death Do Us Part

Staring down at the door handle, I wasn't sure what to expect anymore. I only knew that, with the turning of the knob and the opening of the door, my life would be changed for the better or the worst. Funny, how words can have that effect on you—the affect to remember things.

"For better or for worse, until death do us part."

I tried to take in as many moments of happiness as I could before revealing the truth, except the only feeling I had was the same doubt that had been eating at me for the past several weeks. Was he having an affair? And who was it? Claire? Priscilla? Carmen? Lauren? Elise? or Rachelle? I needed an answer! I needed the cold, blunt truth, even if I was wrong. I needed to know for my baby—for our baby—I needed to know he or she was coming into this world with two parents and not just one.

The silence was so deafening with only my thoughts to occupy the space that the turning of the door knob could be heard from miles away, following clinks and clatters of the latch. The room was filled with two hoarse voices, unfazed by my burst of entry. Low, grunting breaths continued from deep inside the room, as well as two fast-moving backs, thrusting greedily into each other as I hesitantly approached. Walking closer, I came to quickly realize that Maurice was the man responsible for the grunting, and, to my dismay, laying down on all fours was my pig of a husband, moaning in approval. Tears poured down my cheeks faster then I had expected, blurring my vision as thoughts raged through my head and clouded my judgment. The man that was facing me was not the man I had married, and in these times, for a women to try and start over, I saw no reason to continue living; no reason to live a life of pain and emptiness, to burden my baby. I took a deep breath and, with trembling hands, cocked the pistol that I had been saving to do my cheating husband in for good, and his damned mistress. Pointing the gun at their backs, I closed my eyes for a moment, and instead, I placed the gun in my mouth and pulled the trigger.

I can imagine what happened next.

Hearing the bang, they froze. The loud shot of a gun would have sent many thoughts through their minds before they turned around. Then, scrambling to find their clothes, scared to their necks that someone was murdered, or that their cheap brothel room was being robbed, or even scared at the thought that they were caught and that people would find out they were gay frightened them the most; thinking that their families and their wives or maybe their church would banish them? Whatever did happen, I can only assume finding my lifeless corpse standing in the doorway was the last thing they had expected, and I can bet my husband Daniel probably ran to my side, begging for forgiveness. Only I can't tell you for sure, because the second my finger pulled that trigger down, everything for me went white, then black, then nothing. I don't know what they thought, or what they really did, or how they explained to the police why I was there, I only knew that it didn't matter for me anymore. I was free from all the worry, wonder, and heartache. I was no more.

The End