Paying for Her Sins

WARNING: Details a graphic murder. Read at your own discretion.

I didn’t mean to do it. It was supposed to be a peaceful night. Me lying in his arms, like we’ve done so many times.  

     He was sleeping so peacefully. I had went up to go to the bathroom. I didn’t think he’d wake up, with me standing over his body. But I had so much rage and anger that had built up. Now he was leaving? For what, to go ruin another guy’s heart? Hell, his ex would find him anyway.  

     How did I even end up at his place in the first place? Oh yeah, we were texting each other. I hadn’t seen him in three weeks. Last time, I blew up at him for kicking me out because his ex was coming over. After that, I tried to just be friends with him. Things were going well, as he was trying to put pieces of his life back together.  

     “Come over” he texted me. I had a bad day at work and my mother getting on my nerves, so I needed a break from life. I had mentioned how we hadn’t seen each other in a while. He wanted to see me, but didn’t want to hurt me anymore. That night, I decided to take a chance.  

     “I missed you so much” he whispered to me as I entered through his door. I had immediately hugged him and could smell traces of his cologne. I didn’t care too much for the cologne itself, but it smelled so good on his skin. We talked for a bit on his couch, and that’s when he dropped the bomb. He was moving to Colorado in less than a week. 

     “My friend has a place for me. He even has a job out there lined up for me. I think this is the change I need”.  

     I agreed with him. It hurt so much to see him leave, but I knew it was for the better.  

     Or I thought I did. Somehow we ended up in his bed—I should have known better to not drink at his place. I got up to use the bathroom and then went into the kitchen for a drink of water. And there it was. The knife just staring at me, tempting me. The edges were serrated, the tip so sharp. Carter had just sharpened the blade to cut the steaks he bought earlier. He had rinsed it but didn’t wash it, so any germs from the steak blood was still on there.  

     What am I doing here? Why am I fascinated with this knife? I need to go back to bed. 

     I walked back to his bedroom, and that’s when it hit me. The anger washed over me. How could he leave? This is the third time he’s hurt me! There’s no running back from this! 

     “Are you gonna stare at me or come back to bed?” His voice started me out of my raging thoughts.  

     “Sorry I was just thinking,” I replied.  

     “About what?" 

     “Nothing, don’t worry about it”. I crawled my way back into his arms. God, this is supposed to feel good. Now his touch burned my skin. I closed my eyes, but my breathing was too shallow for me to sleep. I got back up and went to the bathroom.  

     I should just leave. I should go back home.  

     I opened the door with the full intent on going home, leaving Carter to sleep alone tonight. I could hear him slightly snoring, so apparently my 10 minutes in the bathroom was enough time for him to fall back asleep. I went in to the living room to put on my shoes. I noticed a glass of water on the table next to his ashtray full of cigarettes. Without thinking, I picked up the glass to empty it. I’d come back for the ashtray. Despite the hurt I’d been through prior to these three weeks, I still cared for him. 

     Then I saw it again. The knife. The one thing my mind could think of. All of the emotions and rage came flooding again.  

     He’s leaving and never coming back. He’s leaving and never coming back. 

     My mind kept chanting, as if it was a new mantra I adopted. I slowly picked up the knife. It charged every memory into my head. The fact that I gave myself to him on more than one night. The fact that he kicked me out of his apartment twice. The fact that I had bought him cigarettes. The fact he had cooked for me, and would ask me to spend the night with him, only to have me end up hurting and crying the next day. 

     This can’t go on. This ends tonight. 

     All of a sudden my feet were moving back to the bedroom. I didn’t realize the knife was still in my hands until I was standing over him. The knife was clutched in my right hand, as if my whole life force was now a part of the knife.  He was on his back. His snores were a tad bit louder, but it felt like a roar in my ears. Maybe it was my own blood rushing in my head and now my ears. His chest was rising and falling slowly with his breath. He didn’t have a shirt on so the light from the living room illuminated his skin. The skin around his chest and neck and arms. Arms that had caressed me. That chest I had laid my head on so many nights. The throat that encased the voice that told me to leave that night. The arms that probably were aching to be around his ex again. How many guys would have to suffer for her sins? How many guys would have to suffer the way I had? 

     And then I snapped. The knife in my hand came down harder that the mallet on a judge’s stand. The blood from his neck came gushing out. His arms and hands grabbed me around my waist as I jumped on his chest. I pulled my hand back, the knife still attached, and I swung down again. And again. And again. His cries were muffled by the blood that filled his throat. his arms and hands were still attached to my side. He rocked his body to try and push me off, but the rage and anger that was flooding me granted me with strength I never knew I had. He should have been able to push me off, but for once, I was stronger. I had the upper hand. I swung one last time, this time hitting his heart. He was no longer struggling to breathe. He was no longer fighting me. The blood had finally filled his throat and was now in his lungs. His heart was now shredded from the holy serrated knife that had contained all of my rage and anger.  

     It was over. No more bodies would be thrown aside once Carter decided he was done with them. In fact, he didn’t even have to pine over his ex anymore. Now all of his worries were gone. And so were mine.  

     I took one last look at his face, which was covered in blood. But I’ll never forget the expression in his eyes. They were confused, bewildered, as if to ask “Why?" 

     I wish I had something witty to say in that moment. But I didn’t. Maybe shock because I had never killed anyone before. Maybe it was the fact that I was now physically tired, because all of my strength was in the knife. The knife that was still lodged in his heart.  

     I simply looked at him, and closed his eyes. 

     Now he’s gone, never to come back.