Sold to Lucifer

Till death do us part?

Hilarious if you ask me.

I will never forget the day when my freedom was forcefully taken away from me the minute I said "I do." at the altar in front of dozens of eyes gawking at me...I was screaming my lungs out on the inside, wanting to rip my heart out.

I lost everything, the reason to live, the reason to love, the reason to breathe.

I tried, Jesus I tried so hard to end the suffering but it only made the situation worse to the point I couldn't even recognize myself anymore.

But today, today is the day I finally get my freedom back.

I continue to scrape the edge of the blade along the steel rod as I stare into the lifeless eyes of the painting of my husband hanging on the kitchen wall in front of me.

Five fucking years. Tortured by my dear husband.

I called out for help, they laughed at me like I was nothing. They laughed at me like I was not human. Like I somehow deserved the pain and endless torture.

I let out a sigh, a tear gently caressing my cheek, dripping onto the kitchen island.

The timer goes off for the roast chicken in the oven. I set the knife and the rod down walking over to the oven. I put on my oven mitts and took out the chicken, it sizzled the smell of butter and garlic lingered in the air.

Today is a special day for me and my husband.

The sound of the front door shuts and a small smile stretches across my face.

His home.

I hear heavy footsteps approaching the kitchen, it finally comes to stop and I feel his stare burning as my back is faced towards him.

I put on a fake smile and turn around.

"You're just in time for dinner." I beamed, removing the oven mitts.

His brown eyes grew suspicious by my behavior. His hair was wizened and straw-like, nearly fossilized. It was so dry. He had intense cold, way worn eyes and a distinctive beard. It wasn't thick, His face was toil worn and tanned from exposure to the elements.

He loosens his tie around his neck and removes his jacket, before walking out of the kitchen he flashes me a quick glance and walks away.

My grip around the mitts tighten as I picture myself strangling his neck , suffocating him to death.

I took a deep breath, my eyes focused on the open entrance of the kitchen, I reached over the top drawer pulling it open and heaved a small bottle containing cyanide salt.

I've been collecting seeds from the core of an apple for a long time. It takes several thousand crushed seeds of an apple to kill someone. What's so special about an apple is that the seeds contain cyanide. It cuts out oxygen from the body, stopping the brain and the heart which are the most important organs in your body.

It's a quick and effective way to get rid of someone without suspicion. Especially if you are the wife and live in a world where crime is a way of survival.

Tucking it in my apron front pocket,  I scurry into the dining room with other dishes I prepared earlier, gently setting the chicken in the middle of the table.

Soft melodious music was playing in the background; Nocturne No.2 , the room lighting dim setting of a warm cozy atmosphere with romantic scented vanilla candles, placed in every corner of the room. 

I love the smell of vanilla. 

The beautiful crystal chandelier hangs above the dining table, the table filled with many options of food.

Salad, freshly baked bread, roasted chicken, steamed seasoned vegetables and the classic red wine.

I quickly dish both our plates with small portions of all the food options I prepared today from scratch . Pulling out the cyanide salt I sprinkle it onto my husband's plate. Making sure that each grain is not wasted.

When I heard footsteps I shove the bottle of salt back into my apron pocket and walked over to my side of the table which was the far end of the table.

I removed my apron, revealing my black pencil dress as it hugged my body portraying every inch of my curves. I set the apron underneath the table and took a seat, patiently waiting for my husband.

Moments later he walks in wearing a nightgown with a lit Cuban cigar resting at the corner of his chapped lips. He takes a puff before sitting down.

I shuffled comfortably in my seat, grabbing the knife and fork and began to dig in my meal. His eyes seemed to laser in on me as if I was his target for the day. Ignoring him I continue to enjoy my meal unbothered by his threatening gaze.

I take the wine glass, my lips pressing the rim of the glass as I sip on the wine, my gaze lifts and meets my husband.

Smiling, setting the glass down I say. "Eat, the food will get cold."

He took one last pull before burning out the cigar and set it aside for later. He slowly cut the meat as his eyes watched me carefully.

I watch closely when he brings the piece of meat to his mouth, chewing it as he gawks at me.

He pauses and swallows.

"How is it?" I ask, buttering my bread. "Good." he stated and continued to stuff his face with vegetables and meat.

I picked up a few vegetables with the fork and ate it, after I took another sip of the wine. The bitter-sweet liquid trails down my throat.

A silent moment passes, I lift a brow when I catch him clearing his throat as his breathing becomes heavier.

"What the fuck is in this?" he demands, staring at me wide eyed. I fight back a smile and reply as I cut through the chicken in front of my plate. "I think I might have added a lot of paprika."

He yanks the glass of wine and gulps it down but that only makes it worse, he coughs violently, his wrinkled hand gripping his chest as he tries to breathe.

I sit there quietly, watching him with satisfaction.

His eyes grow terrified, anxiety creeping in from the depth of his soul. He looked around confused by his surroundings. His skin turning red, thick veins popping out from the side of his head to his neck. He tries to stand up but falls back down to his seat gasping for air.

My painted red lips curl up into a smirk, "I forgot to mention that I added a special ingredient for my special husband..." I pause, twirling the red liquid in the glass. "Cyanide salt." I let out blankly.

He looks at me terrified and angry, I glare back bitterness awaking under my skin.

His gasp becomes shallow, tears pouring out of his eyes, his body trembling uncontrollably.

I took another bite of my food then sipped on the wine watching my husband's life slowly being sucked out of his body.

He takes one last breath, his head dropping onto the plate with a half eaten meal.

Silence pours out into the room, the only sound is the soft classical music humming in the air. I continued to eat my food. My gaze focused on my husband's lifeless body.

Once I am done, I refill my glass of wine, lifting it to the air, I stare blankly into space and smile.

"Happy Anniversary, skurwielu."