I Murdered My Wife

I murdered my wife… sigh. That’s a sight to see. You lose your mind once at a family event and everyone assumes that there must be abuse behind the scenes… They don’t know what they’re talking about. They don’t know what happens in my life, nor Marie’s.

I’m in this place because of them! Spreading rumors, talking shit!... She had to escape… begged me to escape. Now I sit here, opposite of these entitled pricks. You have a badge? Well I don’t give a shit. Accuse me of being angry? Okay, I admit. But accuse me of murder? Well sure, that’s it…

The duet of pricks ask me again and again, “Did you do it? Start from the beginning,” like my answer is going to change. Like the dozen times before, I guess I’ll do it again.

The story begins a few months past, after I wrapped my latest project, the latest bust to my endless collection. Exhaustion filled my muscles and my mind. I could feel cramps on my brain and my eyes. Unfortunately for me, I had forgotten, there was a birthday that I promised I would arrive.

I was ready to skip it; I didn’t see anything wrong with delaying a “happy birthday song” a day or too. Yeah, she gave birth to me, but she gave me a few scars too.

Then came Marie, as happy as all can be. She insisted we get dressed, declaring, “we have to attend, it’s your mother, did you forget?” No, I didn’t forget, I just didn’t care, is that so hard to accept?

“Family comes first, don’t you ever forget”. She smiles, and leans in for a kiss… I simply sit and think, contemplating the words she speaks.

The only thought that crosses my mind during that time… is how she is the sweetest thing in my life, while the rest is one big pile of crap.

“Alright… let’s go,” I say, “but only because it’s your request.” She pulls me up and we get dressed, though honest to god, I really didn’t want to attend.

Marie’s smile pulled me out the room and led me through the roads while we arrived. We got to the party to find exactly what I thought. A flock of drunk relatives, gossiping on all. Home sweet home I thought, nothing has changed at all.

I know Marie’s intentions were good, I wish I was the same. Family should be close, but what else can I say. Mine isn’t, and to try to change, I assure you, is a mistake.

The night quickly turned dark. Marie’s every attempt to bond became an insult. Those vouchers circled her, waiting to attack. It started with small knocks, like, “Did you run out of perfume?” or “what’s wrong with your bangs?”. Then became more personal, stating “I’m sorry you have a shitty career, being a teacher must really suck”.

By the time I noticed, they were in the final blows. In the distance I heard them say, “your stomach is poking out, are you going to be expecting soon?”, Her face turned to shock not knowing how to respond. Then another quickly added, “Don’t be silly, he can’t do the job. He can’t even write a book; he can’t keep a job. No way he can pull this off… The only way she’s pregnant, is through another guy.” I should’ve defended her, and myself, but didn’t have the strength.

The next few weeks were hard, I’m not going to lie. Those words pierced through her, and to be honest, me as well. I wanted to forget it and simply move on. I had to start on my next book, hoping this one would finally be good. But again, came Marie, insisting us to try.

She planned a formal dinner, and of course, they came. We paid for the reservation and promised to take the bill. It was a sweet gesture I have to admit. What else could I expect from her? That’s how she was raised. I told her not to expect anything different, they wouldn’t go to be with her.

Sure enough, the story repeated. They talked mad crap and interrogated her. One thing did change though, and this one I regret the most.

Marie pulled me to the side and began to vent. She bitched and moaned, endless dramatic crying. “How can they say such things” she wept, “Why do they hate me? I don’t know how to get them to like me?!” Marie went on and on.

I remained leaning back trying to maintain calm. I could feel my head stretch, as if it was going to erupt. High pitch tones mixed with Marie’s moans as they penetrated my ears and my skull. My head turned into an endless spin; felt I was losing control. And finally, this time, I did explode.

I jumped up and cut Marie off. My voice topping hers as I pinned her to the wall. I hollered in anger, removing all from my chest. From my career failures’, to my family’s uselessness. “I told you they didn’t care about you, but you didn’t listen!” I declared, “you took time away that I could’ve spent working!”

I continued to yell, raising my voice by the word. I lifted and swung my arms, accompanying my voice. Like I said, I was no longer in control.

It wasn’t until after the commotion ended that I had realized what I had done. The crowded room all glaring at the single zone. Everyone witnessing this abusive moment. A moment that has never happened before, nor will happen again… But I guarantee you, that every single soul in that moment assumed the worse.

And that was the moment. That was the breaking point. After that, nothing would remain to be the same.

We began to drift, something I hoped we would never do. Things changed. Marie endlessly worked. She would never be home. I, on the other hand, re-found an old passion of mine. In an instinctive matter, I picked the bottle back up and gave in to my previous addiction.

While Marie stayed late working, I would be drunk. Those 4 or 5 months were horrible, but not the worse to come.

Then one day out of the blue, Marie walked up to me. “Let’s go to your family’s cabin… we need to patch things up.” My instincts said no. I wanted to spend that time drinking. But Marie can bring the best out of me. The one good thing in my life. After time of thinking we agreed. We would camp at my family’s cabin.

It was a good idea. We needed time for just us. All that damage needed to be treated. We decided to skip Christmas and headed on our trip to the cabin. It was snowing pretty heavy, with no promise of it ending. Marie wanted to pack light for the weekend. Tried being spontaneous or something.

We arrived and didn’t even unpack. We were just focused on being there with each other. We were happy, finally able to unwind. Everything was going great. That is, until we remembered the essentials we forgot to pack. We needed something to eat.

I decided to head to town. We needed food for the weekend, and it was best to get it done sooner rather than later. Or so I thought.

I told Marie I would get what we needed and be on my way back.

Things didn’t go according to plan. All the shelves at every store were completely empty. “How could no one have any food,” I thought. Then I realized. A blizzard was coming. Everyone must have already stocked up.

I needed to head back home.

From bad, things turned into a curse. I dashed out of the store and ran toward my truck, swinging the door open and turning the trembling key. I needed to race back home. My truck squealed, once many more. “Why isn’t it turning on!?”, I panickily questioned.

My truck was out of gas, and a flat tire along to go with that.

I desperately proceeded to change the flat and begged the store owner to borrow some gas. Unfortunately, the wind was picking up fast. There was nothing that could be done at that moment. I wouldn’t be able to get it done in time. I was forced to wait for the storm to pass.

It was not until the next day that I was finally able to head back to the cabin. I drove back as fast as I could, praying that everything would remain fine.

I bolted toward the cabin and busted through the door. Arriving only to find the cabin broken into, windows smashed, everything trashed. I Searched every inch, grasping on to hope. No luck. She was nowhere around. No sign of her. Where Marie, could you be?

Looking out of the kitchen window I notice an odd figure leaning against a tree. It sort of resembles a person? No, it looks to disjointed. To oddly shaped.

Keeping it in sight, I walk towards the door and head out to track down the odd figure.

As I get closer, I begin to slow down. There is a beat, a pause in between every step. My heart rate rises. All the blood in my body drops to my feet. All the weight dragging me down with it.

I finally reach the tree, the figure, the truth of what or who that is. I hesitate, standing directly behind it, contently keeping it a mystery.

Then in one split second decision. In one moment. I force myself in front of it.

Not it… Her.

Marie. My wife.

I witnessed my disfigured wife. Face punched in. Shoulder out of her socket. Snow covering her.

I dropped down in tears. My heart torn out and ripped apart.

My wife. My wife laying painfully, lifelessly under the snow.

And I sit here, facing these officers. Again, I tell them the same story. I came home and found my wife murdered.

Yes, before I lost control and shouted at her.

Yes, there was a rough patch, but it was being resolved.

No, I did not know she was pregnant when decided to go the cabin, and no, we weren’t trying. But you don’t need to try in order to get pregnant. You just have to not be careful.

Finally, the couple of badged pricks allowed me to leave. I answered all their questions and they seemed to finally trust me. I even received an apology.

I walk out an innocent man.

As frustrating as all of this has been, trust me it was necessary.

Let me tell you something I’ve learned over the years… Often times, the things you had the most influence in, are the things you don’t get credit for.

This can be our secret.

It’s true, I didn’t know Marie was pregnant before we left to the cabin. But I found out, and one thing was clear. It wasn’t mine.