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“I’m sorry Amelia, I know, I messed up.”

“No, you did a little more than ‘mess up!’ You went behind my back, threw everything we’ve ever done straight into the trash, and disregarded me entirely! Yeah, you ‘messed up’ alright!”

My face was already burning, and I felt a pit deep in my stomach, but it was only now that I put my head into my hand. “Look, I’m sorry, I really am.”

“Why in the world did you ever think that was a good idea?”

“I was just looking to have some fun! I didn’t want to hurt you though!”

“You went around me but didn’t want to hurt me? No, you know what, I’m done.” Finally, the call ended and I was left alone in a booth of a coffee shop. The woman who was serving me, and knew I was calling my wife, came over with two coffees and sat with me for a minute.

“That had to be a rough call, huh?”

I gave a small chuckle to try and alleviate any tension: “Well, it’s not everyday your wife learns about something you did and sounds like she wants to kill you.”

“So what happened? Did you have a spicy affair?” I looked up long enough to give her an answer. “You dog!” She looked at me up and down for a second and frowned, “eh, more like a mutt.”

“Thank you for the kind words of wisdom.” I still had my head rested on my hand, trying to rub my forehead to make me feel better, but I pulled down on my eyelid before moving it away.

“Look, you know you messed up, but the past is the past. Now you just have to deal with the consequences.”

“Yeah, thanks. I’m glad everyone just has to remind me I messed up my entire marriage”

“And how long have you been married?”

“Our three years would have been next month.”

“Yeah, you really messed up.” She smiled and took a long sip of her drink, ignoring the glare I shot her. I looked down at my coffee, hoping the sight of it might make me feel better, but it just made me feel like crawling into nowhere.

She had to get back to work, and I thanked her for being able to talk. I finished up my drink and gave her a sizable tip for her sitting with me. I wanted to just ignore the world, but I left the coffee shop and realized I had to get my stuff. Amelia was at work right now, so I figured it was the perfect time to grab the essentials.

We live, or lived, in an apartment building on the second floor. It’s a fairly old building, but it was nice enough. The person I had been seeing was the lady living right below us. Her name was Ellie, and she was a gorgeous young brunette with the prettiest green eyes, and I was a 36 year old who already had grey hairs. It seemed fun and exciting, working it out around Amelia, but I threw that all away. I didn’t mean to, but now it’s too late to fix anything.

I got to the apartment building and started dragging my way up the stairs. I knew I had to be quick, but the guilt was setting in worse than before. It seemed rather quiet, considering it was a weekend and it was cold outside. I opened the door to my apartment and in front of me stood the one person I didn’t want to see.

Only about two inches shorter than me, Amelia was standing in the living room, still dressed in her scrubs from the hospital. She looked feral: her hair was a mess, like she just got into a fight with something twice her size, her dark brown eyes glowed red with anger, and she stared at me from across the room, her stance meant to be as intimidating as possible, and it was working.

“I just wanted to get my stuff, and then I’ll leave.”


“What do you mean ‘no?’ I’ll leave, you can do what you want then.”

“If you wanted to tear us apart, you’re going to pay for it.”

“Alright, what the hell are you talking about?” I looked down and noticed a red stain on her hand, carrying its way up her arm.


I walked into the apartment building and heard the television in Ellie’s apartment. I still was fuming, ticking like a timebomb. I knocked on her door and heard her get off of her couch to open the door. In front of me stood little Miss Ellie with her white smile. She seemed so okay with seeing me, like she hadn’t been seeing my husband. I thought about punching her right there, but that would have been too nice.

“Hey, I know you have the day off, and I have a lunch break. Do you want to come upstairs and have some lunch, or tea, or anything. I haven’t really gotten to know you too well!”

She looked a little uncomfortable at my question, stuttering for an excuse, but I guided her out of her apartment. She had to turn around to turn off her T.V. and unplug a fan that was going in her room. Soon, she followed me upstairs and we were talking the entire way.

We walked into my apartment and I told her to make herself comfortable. I put the water on to boil to make us both tea, and sat next to her. We talked about work, past pets, where we’ve lived, but I didn’t care. When I asked about relationships, she shuffled in her seat, but talked about a guy she had been seeing for a while. He’s tall. He’s a little older. He’s a nice enough guy. He’s my husband.

She didn’t necessarily know that we were married, but she had seen us living together, kissing in the hallway, so it wasn’t like we were just roommates. I guarantee she had seen our small golden rings on our fingers.

I must’ve looked spaced out because she mentioned that the water was whistling. I poured us both a cup of tea: I even poured a little honey in her cup. Thoughtful, isn’t it? We kept talking about small things, learning about each other, but I knew everything I needed to know.

Soon, she asked where the bathroom was. I pointed her in that direction and went to the kitchen to clean up. I looked down at her cup and got angry all over again. It was a rush of pure rage where everything was covered in a crimson red. I looked in the drawer for a kitchen knife and moved to the bathroom door. When I arrived, she was already opening the bathroom door, so I grabbed her around the throat with my free hand and threw her across the room, her head landing on the sink, making her bleed and cry. I took several steps toward her with the knife reaching out for her.


When I spoke, it was with a trembling voice: “What did you do?”

“Does it seem like fun now?” As she said it with a determined tone, a deep voice for her, she raised a blood stained knife and charged at me, targeting my throat, giving me little time to react.