He has a wife.
He wasn’t meeting his sister, he couldn’t go on a date with me because he hasa wife.
She looks so sweet, a tiny little thing with short brown hair and big brown eyes. My stomach sinks as I think about how she would feel if she found out about our affair. I didn’t dedicate myself to this man, but I still feel extremely hurt. If she knew, she would be devastated.
I find it interesting that he teaches philosophy as I ponder the thought of telling her or not. He teaches us all the time about the conundrums between right and wrong, and now he’s at the center of my moral struggle. Is it better to live a lie and be happy or to know the truth and be devastated?
I’m not paying attention, and before I know it, I’m looking down to see my hand wrapped around the dark hilt of my dagger. It seems to center me as it heats my palm.
Maybe I can help her, she doesn’t have to know everything. She can live in her blissful bubble full of lies while this lying piece of shit gets what he deserves.
With that possibility floating through my mind, I continue watching them enjoy their night in the living room. It’s so domestic the way they interact as they watch a show and eat their dinner on the couch.How can some men be so absolutely fucking foul?
My anger only gets worse the longer I watch them. I feel nothing but pity and anger for his wife. She’s an unknowing party, who deserves vengeance, just like I do. While I have the right to my anger, I also feel used, worthless, and most of all, unlovable. The woman he decided ‘till-death-do-us-part with is completely unaware of the asshole she’s living with.
That her husband goes off to work, giving younger women sweet promises while making them feel special and smart before he fucks them… and then what? Comes home and acts like a doting husband? Does he use me to get out the dark fantasies that his wife won’t act on and then come home to her so he can give her his sweet side?
I always thought he was an attractive man, but as I look at him now, I see him for the hideous person he truly is. And I decide that he needs to pay.
A dark urge, the one I usually tamper down, is bubbling so close to the surface. I know I’ll have to act on it. I can only imagine how good it will feel to finally give in to this feeling. To give the dagger what it wants and what I want. So, I wait.
I wait until his wife leaves the living room, and I see the bedroom lamp turn on. I track her movements as she puts lotion on her skin and opens a book, getting comfortable in their bed. In the meantime, professor Montague continues watching TV, his stance relaxed, like he doesn’t have a care in the world.Does the man even have a conscience?
When his wife finally puts down her book and turns off the lamp, I wait about another fifteen minutes until I get out of the car to go knock on the door. It’s ballsy, I know, but I won’t be able to leave this house until I confront him, until he’s dealt with.
I lightly tap on the door and take a step back on the mat that says ‘Home Sweet Home’. When he opens the door, his jaw drops, and he quickly looks behind him before shutting the door and standing on the front step with me.
“Lilith, sweetheart. What are you doing here?”
I don’t roll my eyes, I don’t scoff, I don’t let him know that I know everything. That he’s a fucking creep and a user. The more I think about how disgusting of a man he is, the angrier I get. When I think about his unsuspecting wife and how she would feel knowing he cheated on her, I wonder how it compares to how I feel being used as his mistress.
“You’re married,” I state softly. My calmness has him shifting from foot to foot, telling me just how uncomfortable this makes him.
“Lilith, can we talk about this another time?” He uses his ‘professor voice’, the one filled with authority, as he tries to manipulate me, and I have to try to keep my temper in check.
“Are you worried your wife will find out now that I’m here?”
That’s when his facade drops, and his hand shoots out, his fingers gripping around my chin tightly. I let him hold me there, letting him think that he has the advantage as he squeezes, digging his fingertips into the skin of my cheeks.
It’s odd, you would think that at the moment where I’m being threatened, my heart would race and fear would lace every one of my nerve endings, but I’m eerily calm. I want him to think he’s the stronger one out of the two of us, that he has complete control, and that I’m not a threat.But I know better.
“Listen here, you dumb-little bitch. I’m not about to let some co-ed pussy ruin everything I’ve worked for. So leave, now.”
I can feel the metal of his wedding ring against my jaw, and I can’t help the manic smile that takes over my face. He scoffs at me before pushing my face away with malice.
“Knew a bitch who liked it as rough as you was fucked up,” he spits, turning around. His hand cups the doorknob, and something about the glint of his wedding ring triggers me.
I’ve had my hand on the hilt of my dagger the entire time as if it’s the source of my courage to not back down; it’s like it’s driving me. I’m not sure what I plan on doing with the dagger. At least that’s what I tell myself as I impulsively slice off his glittering ring finger, the digit separating from his hand. I thought there would be more like a small pop, but the cut is clean and precise.
I expected him to writhe in pain, to clutch his hand against his chest as his hand spurts blood.
That’s not what happens, though.
His body instantaneously crumples to the ground, lifeless.
Like I stabbed him directly in the brain instead of just slicing off his finger. He doesn’t even look like anormaldead body, not that I’ve seen many. But his veins are all black as his skin shrivels against his bones. He looks like someone who has been dead for months, not just moments.
“Holy fucking shit,” I gasp, examining him before looking down at my dagger and then glancing back at the body. “What the actual fuck?” I nudge his body with the toe of my shoe, and that part of him starts to fall apart from the small touch alone. My eyes widen, but I don’t panic. How… how did I do this by just trying to slice off his finger?
