Marie (Chapter Two)

The next morning, I start to prepare myself as though I am going out to a fancy gala. I need to look perfect on this day. I will make Corey fall in love with me even more. I visit the salon to get my nails done then I ask my stylist for a fresh icy blonde tone in my hair. After that, I get my makeup done at a Dior counter by my favourite makeup artist. She is known for creating soft and sultry looks and she never fails to meet my expectations.

I pick up a designer floor-length red dress from Sancta Sophia and return home to have a bubble bath. After I am thoroughly cleansed, I dry off, moisturize, and slip into my feminine armour. I pose in front of the mirror in my new gown. I love how it fits my slender body like a glove, emphasizing my small waist.

I hear Corey come through the door. I fill the needle with ketamine from the bottle and put it in my purse. I walk downstairs with a sweet smile on my face to greet my husband. As I step toward the entranceway, it is Brad who appears around the corner.

“What are you doing here?” I demand.

“Corey said he’s going to be late because of a meeting at the airport tonight so he said I could fix myself some dinner if I want to.”

My jaw drops open as hot rage surges through my veins. Since when does Corey stay late at work? That is a first. My limbs tremble. I want to hurt Brad for his audacity to walk into my home so late without Corey home.

“I wasn’t aware that we haven taken in a foster child,” I remark. 

He takes a step back. “You’re a hard one to read, Mrs. Robson. Sometimes you seem welcoming, other times I think you want me to leave. Is there something about me that offends you or something?”

He has a lot of nerve stepping into my home asking me that. He has crossed the line. I want to see him lying helpless on the floor in front of me. 

“This is not your home, Brad,” I state.

He needs to leave, but he’s too foolish for that.

“The reason why I came here is because I saw something you wrote. I don’t think you wanted me to see it. I wanted to ask you about it.”

“How did you find it? Were you sneaking around?”

“A certain piece of paper fell out of your magazine when you didn’t notice. I know I should have given it to you, but I was curious about what you were writing, so I kept it. To be honest, it looks like a murder plan.”

What an idiot. I don’t blink. I don’t feel nervous. I am better than him and I always will be even if I made that clumsy move. 

“What are you talking about?” I ask, widening my eyes in mock ignorance. 

He clears his throat, fiddling with his hands. He looks very anxious. I like that. His confidence is waning.

“The morning I caught you trying to drown the little rabbit,” he begins, “I wondered what would possess such a beautiful and seemingly kind woman to do that.”

I stifle the anger rising within me and meet his gaze. “Is that it, Brad? You think I was trying to drown a rabbit and now you think I’m a murderer.”

“I’m studying psychology with hopes of being a psychiatrist one day. You seem to be good at faking empathy when you want to and you also seem to enjoy hurting things.”

“Oh, so you’re a smart guy, are you? What is my diagnosis, Bradley?”

I almost laugh at him.

“You plan to kill someone,” he says.

There it is.

“That is a bold claim to make about the lady of the house.”

He takes a step closer to me and his gaze travels below my chin to my cleavage. “I know what I saw you write, but I can keep it a secret if you promise not to do it.”

His smirk returns as he inches closer to me. Where did he get such arrogance from? I don’t need him to keep any of my secrets. Brad may be stronger in body, but I am more cunning. My power surpasses his and always will. 

“You will regret this,” I say, turning around and digging into my purse for the bottle and syringe.

“I can help you, Marie,” he says softly. “Sit down and talk to me about what you’ve been going through. I will listen.”

I pull out the syringe filled with ketamine and jab his arm with it, quickly injecting the drug into his body. He draws back in shock. I smile.

“Don’t ever let your guard down, but I guess that lesson is too late for you now.”

“What … why did you …”

He visibly weakens as he stumbles away from me. He is in flight mode, but it won’t be enough for him to get away. I don’t act. I just watch. He makes it to the door, but he struggles to turn the knob as the toxin works quickly through his bloodstream. He falls to the floor, struggling to get back up. I wait. He will be out soon.

When he lies still on the floor, I walk over to the big knife resting on the counter. I long to slice up his smooth skin, but it would leave too much of a mess. I grab him under the armpits and drag him across the floor to the back door. I am fit, but it is mostly from cardio and Pilates workouts. I am sweating and winded by the time I pull him over to the pool’s edge, fully aware of the fact that I need to increase my upper body strength. I use my foot to push his limp body into the water. He floats for a few moments before sinking below the surface. 

I watch as his lean body descends to the pool’s floor. He is oblivious to the fact that he is drowning. I spared him from that torture. I smile at the poetic nature of his death. He stopped me from toying with my prey, so I made him take its place.

I walk around the perimeter of the pool as he sinks. I decide to wait for half an hour just to be sure he’s perfectly dead. I slip out of my red gown and dive into the water. I swim to the bottom of the pool, grab his lifeless body, and pull him with all my strength up to the surface. His wet skin glows in the moonlight. He is cold to the touch. I hold his corpse above the gently disturbed waters. This is the beautiful life I have taken. He is helpless in my arms and I am breathless.

I bring him close to the edge, push myself up, and use all my might to pull him out of the water. I walk back into the house wet and shivering then I grab the phone out of my purse to call Steve. He answers and sounds surprised that I called. 

“Hey, I need help moving a body from my home,” I say. 

“A body?” he asks, but he doesn’t sound overly surprised.

“Yes. Please hurry. I need this dealt with as soon as possible.”

He once joked about having all the chemicals needed to properly dispose of a body. Sometimes when people make jokes about something, there is some truth to it. When Steve arrives at the front door, I have already showered and changed into my black Adidas jogging outfit.

My red dress is hanging up in my closet. I will take it to the dry cleaners in the morning. I have deleted the video footage off all the cameras and turned them off to prevent further footage until Steve has left with the body. I wiped the floors, counters, and all the surfaces he touched. It was an easy murder.

When Steve knocks at the door, I waste no time leading him to the pool. He lifts the fit but dead twenty-two-year-old body off the cement. I lead him around the house so that more water is not dripped all over the floors. He puts the corpse into the back of his black Ford Explorer; he was careful to park in the dark off to the side of the driveway. He flashes me a wry grin. Steve is no stranger to dead bodies. I can tell. 

“I admit that I didn’t originally think of you as that type of girl.”

“How much do you want for this? I owe you.”

He grins. “Meet me at my place tomorrow for dinner.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow night then. Things should go smoothly after this. We’ve covered all our bases.”

He winks. “It’s your murder. I’m just taking care of the disposal.”

I feel the air around me chill even though it is a warm summer night. I don’t expect this odd sensation. I have done the world a favour. Brad is an idiot and he deserves to be dead. 

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