Shes not dead. She never was. The bitch made it all up to stick me in here. Eighteen years of my life gone, for what? So she could take my house, my car, my stereo system? I know shes living there still, she may have fooled everyone else but she can't fool me.

Pushed her off a bridge they say. On our anniversary. Bullshit. She said she needed to use the washroom and would be right back, next thing I know I'm being arrested. Reports of a man pushing his wife off a bridge. I wonder who could have made that phone call? That evil bitch.

Well it wouldn't stand. I would have my revenge. As soon as I get out of here, I'm heading over there and taking back what's mine. I'll kill her for real if I have to.

"LIGHTS OUT" hollered over the cell block. Time for bed. Last night. Can't wait.

Fresh air. Free air. I can smell the morning dew. I am finally free. The air is chilled, the fog is rolling in. My bus is waiting, surrounded by a fine white mist. It looked elegant and eerie all at once. Much like my freedom. I am finally able to spread my justice.

I'm coming bitch.

The house looks very different. Re-painted, new roof, new patio. The only thing I recognize without a doubt are the windows. They always looked angry but understanding. They weren't happy I was here, but they understood why I needed to do this. The house is dark, no lights on. It is two am so she is probably sleeping. Sleeping soundly, despite all the pain she caused me.

The door is locked, the new handle feels heavy and strong. No matter, the windows understand and they will let me in. I try a window outback, and yes success! It is open. I crawl through and find myself in the kitchen.

The kitchen, as with everything else, is different. New cabinets. Beautiful stone countertop. This bitch is living it up. While I was rotting in jail she took my home and lived the life. I can feel the rage brewing. Revenge is close. A big knife block sits on the counter. Perfect. I grab the biggest knife in the block.

Everything still creaks. I couldnt sneak upstairs without waking the neighbourhood. But that's ok, this will be quick. I can get in as fast as possible, get my revenge, then run for it before anyone knows what happened. The stairs have new carpet. Red. Horrible.

One... two... three! I run up the stairs and burst through the bedroom door. There she is, just startling awake. I jump on her and immediately stab her in the stomach. Her face is horror. Her blood is spraying. The experience is serene. The face.... the face brings me back. To the first time I stabbed a woman.

She was my love. My life. My soul. But she betrayed me. She took another lover. She made a fool of me.

Her face. Pure terror. Pure theatre. The supreme being that I was that day revelled in joy. I am invincible. I am your god. I remember her blood leaking from her mouth, the feeling of hot sticky wet blood against my face. A lovers embrace, purified. A couples quarrel fixed, divine. When I felt her love fade into the abyss I let her go. She fell.... far... into the water. We were on a bridge I believe...

I woke up with a smile... "today is the day I am free" I thought the moment I woke up, I hid this show of emotion however, the plan cannot be spoiled... the one that must go right. I thought the plan over once more, making sure I prepared every detail.

​

At around one o'clock, I will be escorted out of prison and back home, at that point, I will be escorted back home with my husband, the one I "Love" as far as everyone knows.

​

We will have dinner, and after said dinner, I will wait for him to go to bed. At that point I will throw some things around the living and dining room, mess up my makeup, and open a window, staging a complete break-in.

​

After that, I head upstairs and strangle hubby in his sleep, everyone none the wiser, and no loose ends like last time.

​

I will collect my millions, and I will be free. In a sense I will miss his companionship, but life moves on.

​

Soon the sound of a guard walking over to my cell draws close, and I grin...

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We were in our early twenties, newly wed. She was the love of my life, except she's now dead. We were on our honeymoon down in Hawaii, nothing could have been better, until I heard the smash of glass in our hotel room. Being in the shower when the glass smashed, I wasn't able to see what happened. Most eerie of all, was there was no scream. She told me she was going to the ABC store to get some munchies before we went to the memorial, and I said I would go clean up, first. Well, broad daylight witnesses had a body being thrown from the room, with me in said room by myself at the time.

The police were there soon after, and arrangements were made for me to see trial in California (home state) with the results to be sent back to the Equus Hotel so they could pursue damages. I took my lawyer's advice and didn't say a thing.

Pronounced Guilty of Murder One. Didn't say a thing.

Prison let me use the computer for fifteen minutes, didn't say a thing.

Looked up my "home life" from the terminal, and saw my friend got married. Good for him, but his wife looked oddly familiar. Didn't say a thing.

Looked up the murder in Honolulu, followed further research. It said local girls came up missing, and pictures were provided in memoriam, one of which was "local" in the looser sense according to Polynesian locals. She also looked awfully familiar. Didn't say a thing.

Finally, I was paroled. The quiet, well-behaved inmate who creeped out his cellmates simply by remaining silent, but there was nothing against keeping your mouth shut. I maintained the quiet act with my parole officer as well, finally calling my lawyer after getting settled. Thank God the Kwik Service hadn't yanked the payphone yet, but damn it got expensive.

Eighteen years gone, I said the first thing I knew to. "Hey, Rob, it's Mike." Wow, my voice was hoarse.

"Mike.. Mike..." I could actually hear him rolling the name over. A gasp. "Holy fuck, Mike! I thought you were dead! How've you been?!"

"Been better. Been bitter. We both know I didn't do it." Better and bitter made me sound redundant, but it doesn't matter.

"Yeah, you told me. I'm sorry I couldn't get you off. You must have clammed up completely, right? You sound like a 20-year chain smoker."

No denying that. We exchanged further pleasantries, then his news. He was my best friend, as well as my lawyer. Despite taking on my murder case, his practice flourished. He transitioned to practicing as a prosecutor as well as defense attorney, making it clear he would only prosecute if it was right. Lost half of those cases as the defense attorneys he went up against only had to not fuck it up.

It finally came to the point where my friendship with him would be more than simply strained. "She's alive, you know."

Silence. A good thirty seconds later, he finally broke it. "Dude, she's dead. Been dead for almost twenty years. You were in Folsom because of this."

"Did you help Eddie move down to San Fran?" I think my voice is coming to normal, but that may be my brain futzing with me. It's been almost twenty years since I've used it, like Rob pointed out. We all lived in Sacramento back then, and Rob chose to stay. He said the legal politics were too intense in San Francisco, but Sac was better for his career. He was right, though.

"Mike, as your lawyer, I need to ask you some questions. If I know you, your phone isn't monitored, right?"

I jingled the change I had left next to the microphone. "You know that the Kwik Service hasn't pulled the payphone yet?"

"OK. I didn't know that. Next question, are you going to let this go?"

I finally dropped the big bombshell I had been sitting on. "Rob, I need your help, and I mean big. Bigger than even the trial. Ever heard of double jeopardy?"

Welcome to the Prompt! All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.

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