Death By Chocolate

‘Round and ‘round the mixer beaters twirled, creating a scrumptious, chocolatey batter that frothed as it became nice and gooey, enticing me to dip my finger in for a taste. It was my husband Stephano’s birthday, and I was making all his favorites to celebrate, including my famous Death by Chocolate cake. It had won blue ribbon prizes at every bake off I’d entered, and I only made it for competitions and special occasions.

I preheated the oven all nice and toasty while I poured the batter into three greased pans. The best way to make a decadent cake like mine was to make it in layers. No pre-boxed, lazy way out for me. Oh, no, no, no. Quality was important, and presentation was as crucial as the flavor itself. It tasted much better when you layered it, the frosting between each moist tier like a gift from God himself. Some people would even tell me it was to die for as they took a bite, as if it had been the greatest dessert they’d ever tasted, savoring every last morsel.

I put the three layers in the oven, set the egg timer, and went on to make the frosting. A bit of powdered sugar, some melted chocolate, some vanilla, and a hearty helping of a special little something for that extra oomph. All the stuff you need to make it taste delightful. I was pleased as punch at how the frosting turned out, nice and fluffy, and as I pulled the wire whips off the mixer it was hard not to lick what stuck off their cold metal tines.

I wore his favorite dress, the ruby red one with the silver heart buttons down the front, paired with stiletto heels that were just to die for, so to speak. My friends always told me I was bonkers, cooking and baking with high heels on. But I didn’t mind them at all. I was so used to wearing them because Stephano liked them, and the least I could do was wear his favorite outfit, especially on his birthday.

This one truly one of the most important nights in both of our lives.

As his tires crunched against the stones in the driveway, I was filled with a rush of feverish excitement I’d never quite felt before, one that I could honestly said felt profoundly satisfying. I waited like an impatient pup for him to come inside, his favorite- meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and green bean casserole already hot and ready on the table for him. I quickly checked my makeup in the metallic sheen of the sconce that sat in the middle of the table and made sure to put on the most loving gaze I could muster as the door swung open.

“Surprise!” I said as he stood there, his eyes lighting up like a newly strung Christmas tree as he viewed my handy work.

“Wow, this looks amazing!” he said, kissing me on the cheek and taking a seat the head of the table. I kissed his cheek, leaving a perfect lip print there, struggling to keep my composure. Months and months I had waited, pretending to be the same, graceful, soft, delicate woman he thought I was. Still sleeping with him, cooking and cleaning for him, knowing full well that things weren’t as they seemed. But I was about to bring it all to the surface, illuminating the secrecy that had hung in the background for so long.

“Happy birthday, darling!” I sputtered as I walked into the kitchen, shaking off the dizziness swelling inside my head as I checked the cakes still baking in the oven. I only had to play perfect little BettyMay Raldon a little bit longer. Just a few minutes, and it would all be over. Everything had to go off with a hitch, flawless in design. One hiccup could throw the whole thing off, and that wouldn’t do.

Not at all.

I checked the cakes in the oven and washed my hands before going back to the table where Stephano sat patiently. I took my seat across from him as my blood boiled with anger, mixing in my veins with adrenaline and cortisol. A most unpleasant cocktail to say the least, one I wasn’t normally on the receiving end of to say the least.

“You’ve really outdone yourself this time,” Stephano said as he took a bite of my meatloaf, and I smiled at him sweetly as I gazed at him through my doe like falsies.

“Well, you work hard and it’s your birthday,” I said, beaming like sunshine on a summer’s morning. The timer went off, and I scurried back into the kitchen, sticking a toothpick in to see if it was done. It came out clean and I took the oven mitts and shakily tossed them onto the counter. I had already put everything from the fridge freezer into the deep freezer down into the basement, knowing I would need to cool the cakes fast. Time was of the essence, and every minute I wasted could be one minute closer to my demise.

“You haven’t even touched your dinner, sweetie,” he whispered into my ear, catching me off guard as his as he came up behind me. His thick, strong arms wrapping around my waist. Just play along for just a few more minutes, and we will be out of this mess, I thought to myself as I tried not to whimper. Is this what it felt like to be in some horror movie? To be the one on receiving end?

“Oh, it’s okay, I just want to make sure that your cake is perfect!” I spun around in his arms to face him, putting on my best, big and bright smile.

“You are so thoughtful,” Stephano said, kissing my forehead before letting me go. “But you really should eat before it all gets cold.”

“Well, that’s what the microwave is for silly,” I replied, smiling big and wide as I possibly could muster. Though inside, I nearly vibrated with fear.

“Suit yourself,” he replied with a shrug, strolling back out of the room and back to the table. With him out of the room, I put on gloves, the only thing on my mind was Stephano getting his just desserts. And that meant finishing up the cake.

I took the layers out of the freezer, slapping the metal of the pan to shake them loose. They were perfect little domes of delicious chocolate, and I was almost sad I wasn’t going to get a chance to taste any. But sacrificing one scrumptious cake was worth it. It was either him or me, and I’d be damned if I’d go down to some scumbag parading around as the perfect husband. But I knew all too well the game he was playing, and I wasn’t about to be a chess piece in his insanity. I had the bastard right where I wanted him, a fly in my own little trap- or so I hoped. I just had to be sure that the honey I was luring him in with would be enough.

After sprinkling the outside with mini chocolate chips, I stuck a lone candle in the middle and lit it, tossing my gloves away. The flickering flames illuminated my face as I set the cake down in front of him. I placed the cake knife next to him to cut it with, not wanting to touch it with my bare hands.

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you…” I sang to him in a sultry low voice. “Happy birthday Stephano! Happy birthday toooo yoooou!”

“What about you?” he asked.

“I still have to eat dinner silly,” I said, taking my seat at the other end of the table. “Make a wish!”

“Hmm, I think I know just the one,” he said as he closed his eyes, his words sending a chill down my spine as he blew the candle out, sending goosebumps pilling across my porcelain skin. He took a rather hefty slice, and I watched anxiously as I took a bite of my potatoes as he popped a forkful of cake into his mouth. Stephano smiled with pleasure as he ate, a bit of frosting sticking to the corner of his bearded mouth, seeming to be over the moon. I was worried that there would be some funny taste, something to tip him off but he just kept eating and eating until it was gone. “Oh man, that was some good cake.”

“I’m glad you liked it,” I replied, my hands shaking in my lap as I waited on bated breath for something to happen. “Maybe you should get another? It is your birthday after all.”

“You’re not wrong!”

He went to pick up the knife to cut another piece when his face went pale, his hands tearing at his throat. He fell to the floor with a resounding thump, the knife clattering to the floor, all melodious sounds to my ears. I walked over to him, throwing the fistful of obituaries I’d found onto his chest. He stared up at me with wide eyes as I stood over him, the pictures of different women in the same red dress gazing up at me as I gave him a wide toothed grin. Pulling pictures of my own trophies out of my pocket.

“Ah, Stephano,” I said as I leaned in closer, fanning out the pictures of my own conquests in his face as he looked on warily. “When one plays cat and mouse, you should always be sure that you’re truly the cat, love.” I circled around to his head and leaned down, his eyes glaring at me intensely. “Stephano, Eric, Harry- whatever your name is, it’s all over for you. Your widowing ways have been discovered, and I have to say, you are sloppy honey. You marry them, and four years in on your birthday, they die. A little predictable don’t you think?”

“P-please, Betty, help me…” he begged, blood coming out of his mouth. I took a cloth napkin from the table, delicately wiping the mess away and sighed.

“It’s Eugenia, actually,” I corrected him. “Such a shame, we could have been perfect for one another darling,” I said with a frown. “You’d almost had me giving up on my own little romps. That was until I discovered your prizes. Though I will give credit where it’s due, switching up how you killed them. I just usually stick to arsenic…”

“You bitch!” he choked out as he clawed at my legs, swinging at me wildly in anger as I let out a deep, hearty laugh. It was the first time I’d killed not only for my own pure satisfaction, but for the six women who had haunted my pocket since I’d discovered them. It hadn’t taken a rocket scientist to put two and two together. As I watched his eyes dull, it gave me a moment to reflect on my own wrong doings, the men whose lives I’d ended for the thrill of it. Discovering and killing another killer had quenched my thirst for blood in a way none of my other victims ever had. As if I was the apex predator amongst the other monsters of the world, the queen sitting atop her blood smattered throne, picking off the peasants. Perfecting the art of murder leaving the world reeling.

It seemed like maybe a career change was in order.

Shake things up a bit.

“Remember this face when you’re burning in hell, sweetie, because someday you’re sure to see it again. The one that got away.” He grabbed at my legs, and I winced as he clawed them up and bruised them as he slowly faded away. His movements slowing as he seized and writhed on the floor, until suddenly it all stopped. The foam from his mouth puddling on the wooden floor. My magnum opus completed.

Death by chocolate.

Such a sweet, sweet victory.