Homewrecker

She was in the car, watching the trees blur outside the window, when the thought struck her.

Her husband had been acting odd as of late. Taking extra shifts at work, keeping him away from home for hours at a time and leaving her there alone. He was always tired when he got home and wasn’t in the mood recently no matter what she did. The last time the two of them were together intimately, he spent the entire time demanding that she “be quiet” and “lie still”. Nowadays it always seemed like he didn’t want it to be her that was underneath him.

She knew the signs of cheating, but didn’t want to believe it. Her friends and family all warned her, but she had refused to listen.

She had been driving to her husband’s work, hoping to surprise the man by going to have a late dinner with him. She even made a reservation at the restaurant they had their first date at in a desperate attempt to rekindle their dying marriage.

However, when she arrived at the front desk, she was told that her partner had left at the normal time to go home. There was an awkward, pitying silence before she thanked the worker, excused herself and got back into her car.

She stared out the windshield for a moment before she numbly took out her phone, pulled up the tracking app she’d downloaded weeks ago and punched in her husband's number.

She turned off the radio with a shudder when the voice began talking about the several women who had gone missing in the area over several months.

After driving for about an hour, the GPS took her to the far outskirts of town, to a rustic looking farmhouse that she didn’t recognize. And she was briefly thankful that the person that she would catch him with wouldn’t be anyone she knew.

It was embarrassingly easy to break into the house.

The sliding glass back door having been left conveniently unlocked. She takes a detour through the kitchen and climbs the narrow staircase one handed, her right hand sliding across the wooden railing, splinters digging into her palms as she goes. But she didn’t feel it.

She heard it before she saw anything. The rhythmic grunts of her husband that should’ve been kept between the two of them and behind closed doors.

She finds the room containing the noise and pushes the wooden obstruction open with her free right hand, immediately being greeted by her significant other of eight years in bed with someone else. His back rolling as he moved, the slim, pale legs of some stranger wrapped around his waist.

She must have made some sort of noise to alert the pair because he was suddenly out of bed and staring at her in a mix of surprise and fear.

The bitch on the bed hadn’t even bothered trying to get dressed, remaining there, her modesty covered by only a thin sheet as she avoided eye contact, staring at the ceiling in what she assumed was discomfort, even as the bimbo’s eyes remained glazed over in pleasure.

He was saying something, stepping closer even as his eyes darted nervously from her left hand, to her face, then to his bed partner and back again. She felt herself take a step towards him, her body moving without her say so, as her clenched left hand flies at his chest over and over again. Knocking him back until he falls to the ground, finally still and remorseful. His blue eyes staring up at her pleadingly, clearly in pain.

She ignores him in favor of approaching the bed, the floor slippery as she halts by the edge of the stained mattress. She calmly stares down at the wide-eyed blonde, still swaddled up in the white sheets, who apparently didn’t know when to run.

She’s not remorseful for what she did. Her own hazel eyes staring at the blurred surroundings through the bars of the police cruiser. Not even when cops burst in on a noise complaint, horrified to find her covered head to toe in blood and smiling maniacally even as heart-broken tears streamed down her face, leaving two symmetrical lines of clean skin.

She had been sitting with the mutilated corpses, loosely holding a sticky knife as the cooling liquid coagulated. She hadn’t even resisted arrest, dropping the weapon, allowing the officers to cuff her and bring her to the back of the car.

It wasn’t until hours later, when her lawyer came to visit her, that she found out that the mystery woman was identified as the most recent missing person in a long line of women and had been dead for several hours already by the time she had even arrived at the farmhouse.