Little Black Book

Today started like everyday for the past month now. Me sitting at the dining room table robbing peter to pay paul. To keep the roof over my head. I was one of the unlucky ones that lost their job due to this pandemic. I worked at a small family owned diner. We were forced to shut down, the owner tried to stay open. The laws prevented that. We were forced to find other employment or file for unemployment. I was still waiting to hear something from unemployment. I called everyday and still havent gotten a letter, check, nothing. So this is what I do everyday to try to figure out ways to make money. I'm not very crafty so that's not an option. I can't even be a stripper. I have no rhythm.

My head was starting to hurt from looking at all the bills that were due. I had literally no way of paying them. I needed a mental break, I got up from the table to watch a little tv. Someone else's drama would be good. I can't escape my own nightmare. As I was headed to the living room there was a knock at the door. I wasn't expecting anyone. I wondered who that could be. I opened the door slowly but there was no one there. I looked down and there was a large manila folder laying on the porch addressed to me with no return address. I picked up the envelope and looked up and down the street but there was no one there. I went back into the house wondering what could be in the envelope. I sat on the couch and opened the envelope. There was 20,000 dollars and a little black book inside. I opened it up to the first page. There was a name written in lovely handwriting. I read the name out loud. Shelley winters 1986-2019. I remember reading about her death. She was one of the many who had lost her life to complications of covid 19. It didn'tdidnt make sense why I wouldi would get a book with her name written inside. I flipped through the pages and it looked like it was a journal of some sort. I kept flipping through until I got to the final page of her last journal entry. I didn'tdidnt understand. In the back of the book it said find how I really died. I didn't die from covid. There were instructions on what to do once I gathered all the information. This was too much to deal with right now. I threw the book on the couch and began to pace. In other words in order to spend this money I had to uncover why she died and why it was said she died from covid. I shook my head. I didn't want to do this. Why me? Why was I chosen to do it? These questions played over and over in my head like a sad love song. I needed to sleep on this.

The next morning I was in a better state of mind. I decided what harm can it really do. I needed the money badly. I didn't want to hold a garage sell of my most prized possessions which wasn't a lot. So i had to do this if i didn't want to wind up homeless.

I made a game plan and started my journey.

I was running around town like a PI. I don't even know how i knew what places to go or what people to talk to i just did. By Friday I had a whole file of information. This nurse was going to get what she deserved and Shelley was going to get justice. I had one last meeting to wrap up and my case file was done and I could put in my mailbox that was the last of the instructions and I could spend the money.

My last meeting was in a psychiatric hospital. That's where one of the doctors worked that took care of Shelley before she died.

When i got to the office there were a lot of white coats in there kind of blinding. I sat down ready to start the meeting. The lead dr sat across from me and when he started to talk I began to get flashes of the last week. My stomach began to hurt. It felt like I was going to barf.

It turns out I had made all of this up. I had a psychotic break. A week before Shelley became sick I found out she was seeing my husband. So what other way to make her more ill. I went to her bedside one night and explained who I was and told her my plan. All she could do is let a single tear fall down her cheek. I laughed cause i planned on making her life miserable little did i know she was allergic to a medicine that i had given her and wound up dying from that. So because she was on the covid unit it was just assumed that was what she died of. They didn't do an autopsy unless the family asked for it.

I snapped back to reality and was trying to make a run for it but I was outnumbered by the doctors. I was being pushed to the ground and given a shot to calm me down. I guess the guilt was too much to bare so I made up a story. I guess money will make you do crazy things.