Have Your Cake

She was trapped in a loveless marriage. It didn't even feel like a marriage anymore. It felt more like a prison. She was taken away from her family, and gradually her friends started to disappear one by one. Her husband went to work earlier and came home later with each passing day. They barely talked anymore. When they did, it was always a fight or harsh words. She couldn't remember the last kind words he spoke to her. She was never enough of what he wanted and too much of what he didn't. She hated her life. Most of all, she slowly began to despise him.

She had asked for a divorce several times, and he continually denied her. She did, however, take a vow.... till death do us part. She wasn't one to break promises. She meant every word she said at the alter. Divorce was a last ditch effort, but now she had other plans. Plans that would allow her to keep the vows she made on their wedding day. Till death do us part was a promise she intended to keep.

She'd always done what "good wives" were supposed to do. She did all the cooking, cleaning, washing, dusting, fluffing....all the the things an exemplary wife "should" do, according to her upbringing. It was never enough. In fact, the more she tried get her husband's attention, the more he berated her. If he refrained from putting her efforts down, his indifference only seemed to constantly increase. The more she tried to make him appreciate her, the more he ignored her. She felt empty, alone, devalued and depressed. On paper she was married. In life she was alone.

They had been married for seven years. The first year was picture perfect, but over time his personality began to change. By the third year, she hardly recognized the man she fell in love with. The emotional and psychological abuse started off innocently enough. At first she made excuses for his poor behavior, but as time went on, the abuse became more obvious and much more severe.

It was in the fifth year of their marriage when he pushed her to the ground for the first time. After that incident, throwing her around became a fairly regular occurrence. It wasn't long after those incidents until he became increasingly physically abusive. Soon he was hitting her, grabbing her, throwing her against walls, leaving her with bruises, cuts and scrapes that she tried to cover up but eventually had to make excuses for. She found herself telling the grocery store clerk how clumsy she was. She'd tell her sister she scratched her face while gardening.... on the rare occasions she was allowed to see her.

The excuses kept mounting up, and the very few people she still had in her life began to notice she was only a shell of her once vibrant and bubbly self. Her flawless facade was beginning to show obvious cracks. She was so ashamed and embarrassed to admit her marriage was not only falling apart, but had become a total failure.

She was exhausted all of the time. Once a very beautiful and vivacious woman, she began to look gaunt with permanent dark circles forming under her eyes. People began asking her if everything was okay at home. On one particular occasion she just broke down, spilling her frustrations out to her favorite barista at her local coffee house.

Maybe that was her rock bottom, or the lowest she was willing to be dragged down. It had been on her mind for over a year, but until this moment, it had just been a ridiculous fantasy. Could a person like her actually pull something like that off? Could she murder someone? Someone she used to love so deeply?

Her chances at a happy life seemed dim to nonexistent as long as he still lived. If she left, he'd hunt her down. She'd tried a few times before, but she never even made it to the next town before he'd track her down and drag her home.

It was going to have to be him who would need to be removed from the situation...permanently. But how? She wasn't a murderess. She had never even been arrested. She wasn't a natural criminal, but she was willing to do anything to gain her freedom. ANYTHING.

She had been denied a divorce time and time again, and her attempts at leaving had all failed. What else was she supposed to do? Was murder the only option? Maybe there was something else she could do. Death almost seemed too fair. She wanted him to suffer as she had suffered. Having needs, only to be ignored. She didn't want to kill him. But she didn't want to care for an invalid either.

She wanted to alter his existence to the point that his life depended on her. She wanted to watch him deteriorate as she ignored him just as he had ignored her. She wanted to do the bare minimum just to watch him lay desperate, lonely and enraged that he couldn't do anything without her assistance. She wanted to bring him to his knees. But that wouldn't bring her freedom. He'd just be a bigger burden to bare.

What she actually wanted was an apology and to put the past in the past, start over, but she knew that wasn't in the cards. So how was she going to pull this off? Poison? Staging an accident left a lot of room for potential errors and worse outcomes than she was hoping for. So how would she pull this off?

It was his birthday in a few weeks. She always baked his favorite chocolate cake with chocolate buttercream frosting every year. She was allergic to cocoa, so it wouldn't be suspicious if she didn't eat any, as she never had before. She'd have to put something in the cake. But what? How much? and where would she even find whatever she needed?

She had two weeks to get organized and obtain whatever materials she would need. It was time to get to work and do some research. She was afraid to do an internet search on the off chance the police might search her phone or computer. She had an old college friend who went into forensics. Maybe she could give them a call and ... no that would be too risky. The library seemed like the least detectable way to get the information she needed.

The next Monday, when her husband was at work, she took a taxi into town to do some research. She hoped that there was a substance she could use that was easy to find. She didn't have much time to get her hands on anything exotic or illegal.

To her surprise and delight, the top homicidal substance used to poison people was as close as her nearest auto repair shop. Ethylene glycol was a sweet tasting, odorless compound found in coolant or antifreeze. The fact that it had a sweet taste to it would make it a perfect additive to the cake he surely expected her to bake for him. Knowing she was allergic to cocoa, it wouldn't seem suspicious when she didn't have any. It seemed too easy.

Upon further research, she was relieved to find that it wouldn't take much at all to get the job done in one shot. Her plan was to serve him the cake with coffee, which he took with cream and sugar. She'd put a little in the cake, a spot in the coffee, and hopefully, finally be free.

She had no idea what to do after the job was done. Should she hide his body? Should she just leave him at the scene and make a run for it? Maybe she could make it look like a suicide. That seemed to be her best option. He was known to have manic episodes and terrible mood swings. A suicide would be believable. Alright, now she had a plan.

As the days passed she grew nervous with anticipation and dread. She meticulously planned how she was going to set the scene. As his birthday drew nearer, his temper and violent streaks worsened. This only steeled her reserve. She was ready. The dread she felt quickly dissolved and was replaced with a sick excitement. All she could think about was her freedom.

When the day came she had the cake ready, just as he expected, picture perfect. The coffee was brewed, piping hot and waiting. After they finished dinner, it would only be a few hours before she'd finally be rid of him. This was the first time she ever felt grateful that he hardly paid her any attention. She didn't have to try very hard to conceal her nervousness.

The moment was finally upon her. As she cleared their dinner plates she couldn't conceal her glee. He didn't even notice. All she heard form the kitchen were his gruff demands for his cake and coffee. Hands shaking, she cut him a generous slice. She looked for the biggest mug they had to serve the coffee in. She wanted to make sure she was successful in her endeavor.

She smiled as he shoved each forkful of cake into his mouth as he slurped the coffee to wash it down. Even better, he demanded a second slice saying this was the best cake she'd ever made him. She was happy to serve him another slice with a little warm up to top off his coffee.

It wasn't long before he complained of an upset stomach and felt dizzy. Without a thank you or any recognition for her hard work making an amazing meal and a cake that would put Martha Stewart to shame, he retired to the bedroom. She remained in the kitchen, washing up, doing dishes and disposing of the evidence. Down the garbage disposable it all went.

A little over an hour later, she heard the unmistakable sound of him emptying the contents of his stomach in their en suite. She rushed to his aide, feigning concern, but he only pushed her away. All the better. She she'told him she'd be downstairs if he needed her.

She listened carefully and heard him lethargically move from their bathroom to their bed. She waited. He groaned in pain and misery for a while. She waited still. It wasn't too long before the house was quiet. After a while she went to check on him. Stone dead. She had succeeded.

She executed phase two of her plan. She had gotten the password to his laptop and opened it to write a suicide note. Gloves on, so no trace of her finger prints. She felt like she was living in a crime novel. She smiled to herself as she typed. She was free at last.

She finished the letter and left the laptop open, called the police and waited. She had no idea what was to happen next. She just hoped she had done a good enough job of covering her tracks. Now all she could do was wait and hope that nothing seemed suspicious.

When the police arrived they asked her what she assumed were the usual questions any woman would be asked when a wife walks in to find her husband dead. Everything seemed pretty routine. She was tearful and appeared to be quite upset. She complied with everything the officers asked her to do. His body was taken away. They offered their condolences as they wrapped up the investigation the following day.

Had she pulled off the perfect crime? Was it really that easy to commit murder? In the following weeks, after the autopsy, his death was in fact ruled a suicide by self inflicted poisoning. After all, in the eyes of the police, she had no real motive to kill him. Aside from her meltdown at the coffee house, most of their marital problems were hidden well enough. Plus, there wasn't much she had to gain from his death, except her own freedom to start a new life.

After his estate was settled and all the loose ends were tied up, she packed up and left the town they had lived in for the last seven years. She had no remorse, no regrets and she never looked back. She kept her eyes and her heart focused on the road ahead without so much as a thought of the torture and loneliness she had endured for so long. She had finally gained autonomy and control over her own life. As much as she felt awkward admitting it to herself, if she could go back in time, the only thing she would change would be the day she agreed to marry him.