'Til Death Do Us Part (EP. 1)

The fitted sheet had uncurled itself from around the mattress again. Methodically, she reached over and tucked it back into place, smoothing the invisible wrinkles and creases with a stiff, trembling hand. The cold golden circlet sat heavily on her finger. Casey raised her arms slowly above her head, stretching forward and back to rid her body of the aches and quivers that she always seemed to have in the morning. They’re stronger today. Is it fear? Rage? Horror? She seems calmer as she settles into a routine, deep, slow breathing is the only human sound in the room as she straightens bedclothes, thumps the dents from sinfully soft pillows, and picks up clothes that had been strewn across the floor. Five years ago, on this day, she’d risen and done the same thing. The morning after her wedding. So much has changed since then.

Bracing one hand against the wall, she tip-toes towards the bathroom. A quick glance at the mirror reveals her expression is flat, lifeless even. Smooth ivory skin, marbled through with freckles. Thick mahogany-colored hair tamed into a low ponytail. (She hid the few grays that had popped up since her 30th birthday quite well.) Robotically, she picked up the Oral B from the toothbrush holder by the sink and placed a pea-sized dollop onto its head. The vibrating head glides over her teeth and back, in perfect, dime-sized circles. Then floss, mouthwash, pick up the astringent and dab it all over her oily t-zone. Rinse. A perfect morning routine. Perfect household, perfect family.

Just like he always wanted.

But if anyone had entered that day, they would have seen it. Just to the right of her feet, there were bright red splotches that graced the floor in messy splatters, making it look like an abstract work of Jackson Pollock. The room smelled heavily of pungent pennies and rubbing alcohol that burned her nose and eyes. But the most disturbing thing of all lays unmoving in the bathtub, a hole obstructing his perfect hairline, his hybrid green-gray, lifeless eyes cast forward, seeing nothing.

Five years ago, on this day, she married the man who had forcefully robbed her of her innocence. And five hours ago, she put a bullet in his head.

Casey sat on the ground, trying to figure out when, exactly, he'd turned into a monster. Their story was so generic, Prince Charming whose facade had dropped at the same time her guard had. There was nothing special about it. Nothing unique about her circumstance. She'd simply gotten sucked in by the personality he'd handpicked to bring her out of her shell. He'd never seen a woman when he looked at her, not even the future he claimed he'd dreamt about. She was prey. The carnage that he planned to leave behind once he'd absorbed the very best parts of her. And yet she still mourned him. Not him now, but who he was. Or, at least, who she thought he'd been.

'They'll be here soon.' The thought should have made her panic but she was eerily emotionless. Numb. 'Why had she done it?' She thought she’d feel different. Liberated, frightened, guilty. But there was only a gaping nothingness that threatened to crack her chest open. Suffocating. They were coming. She’d told them to. Told them what to expect. She popped to her feet, feeling like the room was closing in on her. She scrubbed her hands across her cheeks, not giving a damn at this moment that she was hurrying her journey to inevitable wrinkles. There were instructions she had to follow. The only way to cover her tracks now was to make it seem as if Trenton Baites had shot himself. She’d had a better plan, a foolproof one. Get him drunk. Tie him to the bed in a kinky sex scene, he’d liked those. Blindfold. Inject enough insulin under his tongue to make him overdose. A bag of Lays and a cigarette would take care of the rest. Potato chips were a natural, untraceable accelerant. It would have been a drunken, unfortunate accident and she would have been free to mourn publicly as an unfortunate widow.

But his cockiness had grated her nerves. Made her impulsive. Now there would be questions that she wouldn’t be able to answer. Had she heard the gunshot? Why had it taken so long for her to call? She couldn’t claim shock that had lasted for - she checked her watch- 6 hours now. Maybe she could claim she fainted. Play the delicate feminine card. Even in the current circumstances, the thought made Casey roll her eyes. That was everything she wanted not to be since the moment Mr. Baites had charmingly fumbled his way into her life. But if it kept her from behind bars, she would swallow her pride and do it.

She took a deep breath, preparing herself for her performance of incoherent shrieking and wailing to some unfortunate 911 operator when her phone blared a cheerful message tone from the bedside table. She instinctively flinched. Trenton had hated that her phone was never on silent. He would yell for hours on end about how disruptive the constant bleating of her cell phone was despite her explanations that she needed it on for her job. And when she’d dared to one day politely point out that his yelling was more disruptive than her phone could ever be, she’d been hiding the bruises on her arms for weeks after.

She shook those thoughts from her head and tiptoed over to the table to see who was messaging her at this ungodly hour.

UNKNWN: Don’t call them.

I hope you enjoyed part one of 'Til Death Do Us Part! I will be uploading weekly so be sure to follow so you don't miss a single part of Casey's story!