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The Knife

by Tiny Tales of Terror about a year ago in fiction
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She had never thought she would see it again but there it was. It was nestled comfortably in an old box of random memories.The sight and smell of it brought memories flooding back to her. Her first thought was that of the face of the man she had stabbed with it. It was not hard to remember even though it had been more than fifteen years since the events had originally occurred. The memories, his face, were branded in her brain as if they had been burned there by a hot poker. She would never forget.

It had not taken her long to build up the courage to do what she had done with that knife. What had taken work was burying the body all on her own. She knew she should have called the police. She knew what she had done was very wrong. But, she knew if she could find a way to dispose of the body on her own that things would be much easer on her. That and there would be no awkward questions to answer. There would be no guaranteed prison term for murder to serve. So, that was exactly what she did. She had been completely alone in the middle of the night just as she had wanted to be. No loose ends to tie off.

She had done what she needed to do even though it had taken most of the entire night. She knew it would be worth it in the end if she just kept at it until the deed was done. She knew it was the wrong way o handle the situation but that was the way she had done it. She had needed to deal with the consequences of her actions like an adult. It was no one else’s problem but her own to begin with.

As she continued to look down upon the knife, she found herself realizing that she had never truly regretted it. While it had disturbed her for a long time, she had found that she was more than able to excuse it. She had long since forgiven herself for what she had done. She had more than convinced herself that e had deserved what she had done. tThat was what she would tell herself when the nightmares would creep upon her.

He had never leaned to shut up anyway. He was always yelling at her. If it was not about how much he hated her, it was about her mood swings. He told her that her emotions change at the worst times. He often complained about how he was a burden he was forced to deal with and how he would finally be rid of her one of these days.

So she ended it. She ended him. With him went years of abuse and torture. Before he as gone, the future hung over her head like a storm cloud. She had finally felt free as she looked down on his dead body lying upon the floor. Yes, burying a corpse alone and in secret was worth it. It was a small price to pay for freedom and uninhibited freedom.

She put the knife away and hit the box on a top shelf. Afterward, she went back to the living room with a smile upon her face and a glass of wine in one hand.

She sat herself on the couch to watch her husband and children enjoy family movie night. They would never need to know what she had done. They would never know why. If she had anything to say about it, if she were in control, they would never even have to find out that the man had existed.


About the author

Tiny Tales of Terror

Obsessed with writing. Trying to make it as a writer and accounting student, a mom, living on my own for the first time. Crazy on top of everything else. Thanks for reading!

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