Just a Little Murder
A short Story by Laura J Snyder
The door creaked as Sarah pushed the door inward, peaking at the two sleeping little ones tucked in their beds. Blankets pulled tight around their chins, their small bodies rising just so with each breath they took. She couldn’t help but smile to herself.
Hand still gripped around the knob, she pulled the door toward her, leaving it open just a crack, more for her own piece of mind, rather than theirs. Motherhood had been an unexpected fit on her. When she was young, the thought of having children made her gag, now she wouldn’t change it for anything in the world.
She sauntered her way through the hallway, swaying slightly. Her shoulder bumped the smooth surface of the wall, it felt cold. The entire house felt cold. A normal woman wouldn’t like the cold, but she did. There was something about the crispness of it, and her philosophy of it being easier to get warm rather than to cool off.
The kitchen, bathed in darkness with images of monsters lurking in the shadows, only to be lost as she flipped the switch. She grabbed her favorite wine glass, which was just a fancy goblet that shimmers in the light, and she filled it with white zinfandel. Smirking to herself as she took that first refreshing sip. Nighttime is her favorite time of day.
It was her time. There is nothing more precious than her “me” time. Time to let the stress of the day roll off her shoulders and to just lose herself in one of the many true crimes shows out there. So many to chose from. Documentaries about infamous crimes, shows about forensics, and those crimes that are still unsolved, or just ones with a good twist. The possibilities are endless.
Cozying up in her corner of the couch, the nook where the two halves of the sectional join. She wraps a blanket around her legs and settles in. One last listen to the silence of the house, and then its on. So many streaming services with so many offerings, but tonight she decides to go with cable, and leave the decision to chance. A bold move for her, as most of her life is lived with strategic planning. Even this precious time is not by accident. A gentle nudge to a husband being offered a job with late hours, and an early bedtime for her little angels, and here she is.
She took a sip of the cool liquid, feeling satisfied as it slid down her throat. It will probably cause her horrendous heart burn later, like it always does, but for a brief moment, it is worth it. Shifting her hips, she was ready.
The dramatic music, a narrator with a deep voice that meant business, there is always a narrator with the most dramatic tone, she loves it. There is a sweeping ariel shot of the community. A tingle rushed through her. There is something familiar about the buildings, that landscape. The story begins with an early morning, before sunrise on a cold day, and the small town is rocked with the discovery of a body.
The man on the screen sent a shock through her. A friend of her own family and the unfortunate officer who had responded to the scene first. That was the unfortunate part about living in a small town, there is no escaping knowing everyone. Except her. She had been so unremarkable bullies even ignored her. Memories came rushing from the murky depths from where they dwell, deep in that place people force those darker parts of their existence.
She gulped a mouthful of wine, stinging her throat.
This had always been a possibility, seeing his face during one of her beloved programs. Maybe that was what really drove her to watch night after night, the possibility of seeing him and hearing the story of what they think happened. His face, that square jaw, half-cocked smile, a man she had known for most of her life. Every memory of him came up, his smell, the sound of his voice, and she cringed. He was the big man in a small town. King of the high school, and captain of everything. Everyone adored him. Especially the people the producers had chosen to interview.
His parents, a member of his group of douchebags, and so on, all talking about how great of a guy he was. The pretty girl who had his heart, sobbing on television about how she never truly moved on, except there was a large gaudy ring on her finger. Clearly the woman was more interested in being on TV than him. Besides, they both knew that he was not a good man.
Seething with hatred, she twisted in the tangle mess that had become of her blanket. No one had known her, not her name, not what she looked like, nothing. She had been his dirty little secret. She had just been the mousy girl that a man like him would never be caught with.
He had been so cruel, and charming, always pulling her back in every time she managed to pull away from him. The things he would say, sending her into silent tears that never fell, becoming a seething resentment. She wasn’t good enough to be anything more than a secret, just showing up at her door when he wanted, and making her feel like it was all she was worth. She was worthless then. It was why no one came looking for her after he had gone missing, and it was why no one noticed when she was gone.
A light shown through the window, followed with a car door slamming, her dearly beloved was home. Tension rose, she gripped the blanket tightly, twisting it. Her heart thudded hard in her chest. Take in a deep breath, slow down.
He came in, looking tired and worn down, but still handsome as ever, offering her his soft half smile. He leaned down, giving her a peck on the cheek, catching a glimpse of the show, “oh no way.”
“Hmm?” she said, while sipping on the wine. “Yeah, I remember when this happened. Good thing we got out of that place.”
“He was one of my best friends back in the day.” His face falls, a wave of sadness pouring out of him. “It’s a shame they never caught the guy.”
“Yeah, shame,” she said, putting on her best thoughtful face and taking a sip of her wine. It’s just too bad, she thought grinning to herself, they’ll never catch me.