Haunted Chp 7
Chapter 7
"I signed up for classes in town at the college. I found one in the middle of the day when you are usually busy," I said stirring the pot of gumbo before me. Although I put in my normal amount of effort toward this meal I had no lust towards eating it. I watched for his reaction in the reflection of a hanging pot.
"Classes for what?" He folded the corner of the newspaper and for a second I lost my resolve as the stern eye framed in his square reading glasses stared at me.
"I want to study more about psychology. It interests me like your hobby does for you," I turned to face the inquisitive eye hoping that relating to his disgusting habit would make him agreeable.
"If you like. I don't know why you want to waste your money. Women will never last in the work place," he sneered looking down at the newspaper. Jilted likely by the idea that he did not have a degree to fall back on now that the money was running low on his inheritance.
I hate him. I absolutely want him to die where he stands but I do not have the courage to stalk this prey. In this situation I am the gazelle and he the lion. My heart began to race at the thought of him finding out the journal I've been writing is a lie.
I started the night that I came home unclear of how to save my life beyond maintaining this. I figured at the first suspicion of my disloyalty he would murder me. Eat me like a wild animal. Watching him tear into the human heart I roasted...
"Excellent. I am going to write in my journal before heading into town for class." I walked into the bedroom and into our private bath where the lights were bright enough to write in.
I suppose I have known about his crimes subconsciously for some time now. I am fully aware currently I am married to a psychopath, A Serial Killer. I could have potentially gone unawares if he had not told me himself. That conversation held no words, only a series of tic-tac sized clues to lead me to believe he wanted me to know.
Not because he felt guilty or even remorseful. He wanted me to know that he was a killer, a psychopath. That he could do the same to me as he did his victims. He had power in my initial feeling of fear then control after authorities were never contacted. It was then that I realized he was never going to kill me, just make me realize and live these crimes with him.
Enjoy them, with him. For I enjoyed the power he held over another's life. My husband had power. No one knew who this killer was. He outsmarted everyone! In some sick perverted way I was proud. The sex, I'd have to say was always intensely better with the hot blood of another between my body and his. He pretended to be innocent still and this secret obsession was my own personal aphrodisiac.
Of course the blood had been washed off before he was around me again But I knew it was once there.
I stared down at the words I had written and my eyes filled with tears at the mess I had gotten myself into. There was no way I would be able to pull this off!
I dressed quickly and tucked my journal under my pillow knowing full well he would read it when I left the house. He left me with absolutely no privacy.
"I'll be back in time to start dinner," I called on my way out the door and onto our rocky driveway. The small pebble and rock crunched under my one inch high pumps. The ones reserved for business as he never allowed me to wear that nor the knee length skirt I wore. The blouse was dark knit and button-less to avoid the wondering eye. Anything to abide his fragile ego.
Flowers were planted all over the porch in hanging baskets and pots in my effort over the years to build beauty in a dark place. Futile attempts. I started the car backing up slowly and carefully before pulling onto the private drive that lead to the main road.
Driving up to this place was such a shock to me the first time. I hadn't lived in a slum neighborhood but I had never lived on open land like this prior to meeting my husband. I rode with the windows cracked allowing honeyed breeze to sooth me without mussing my hair.
The plan is simple.
It had been two weeks since he showed me his dirty secret. I started writing diary entries describing the scene I saw from the perspective of curiosity. I knew it would interest him to have a sympathetic ear in a world where people like him are rightfully persecuted.
I would go to the police and ask for them to return to catch him off guard so that he didn't have time to go back and hurt those girls. Most of the plan was executed. I just needed to make it to the police station. My hands gripped the steering wheel tight the closer I got to the station. My heart beat loud in my ears.
I checked my rearview and side mirrors several times while turning down one street and then another as I got into town. What if he followed me?
I pulled into the library and hopped out of the car looking around me cautiously. The street was filled with people whom had come into town to shop or trade goods.
There was a man selling newspapers nearby. A flash of the words struck me into the heart.
'ANOTHER GIRL MISSING!' It had to be him. Was I coward enough to let this continue?? Thirteen women had gone missing so far and four at least were behind my house. I glanced around again cautiously as to not bring attention to myself and then got into the car driving toward the station.
The beautiful roses planted in flower boxes along the store fronts soothed me in my decision. I waited for him to pop out of every corner to kill me in the street. He'd finally snapped (completely )and was showing the psychopath that he was for All to see.
"I need to speak with a detective about the recent missing girl," I looked behind me even in the police station before meeting the eyes of the attendant there. She looked strangely at me but ushered me toward the chairs.
"Sit over there and someone will be with you shortly," she hurried away through a door marked DO NOT ENTER behind her desk. The brief moment it was opened sounded like a disarray of talking voices merged together but quickly cut off once the door was closed.
A cop stood on duty beside the desk watching the entry to the police station in a bored gaze. He looked like every other cop with a buzz cut and shades. The uniforms blending them all into one unit, one person. The attendant returned shortly after that flurry of voices and ringing phones coming in and out as the door swung shut again behind her. She sat poised at her desk typing what seemed to me like a never ending list of reports judging by the stack on her desk.
My heart felt like it would beat out of my chest as I stared at my watch, watching the minutes pass. Fifteen of them did before the detective walked through the door signaling me to come.
I knew he was a detective because unlike the cops mulling around the office of talking blues he wore a brown trench coat and button up with slicked back hair that had just a bit of gray. He had a hard face that told me my life was just another Tuesday in his book of human degradation.
His desk was in the corner of the precinct and also stacked with papers however his had the courtesy of being in folders. Somehow I knew this only meant he had more work to do. Another detective with blond hair and a youthful smile walked up beside me and greeted me gently.
"Nice to meet you, " he shook my hand and held out a coffee.
"No thank you. My stomach is too queasy for coffee," I looked between him and his partner unaware of where to start.
"So you told our attendant you have information about the missing woman we posted?" The older detective sat at his desk crossing his arms in front of his chest.
"I suspect my husband is the one who took her. I suspect he has taken a lot of women you have missing. I know for a fact he has at least taken a few." I knew there was a good chance they wouldn't believe me. Which is why I brought undeniable proof someone had died behind my house. My eyes leveled with the detectives as I reached into my bag slowly.
"Hold it-" He reached back toward his gun and I could hear the click of a gun holster as his partner readied for whatever could be in my bag.
"It is just evidence of what I am saying. Do you wish to see?" I paused my movements waiting and he nodded toward me.
"If you are saying you have a way for us to catch the monster behind this I'm willing to entertain you a little longer," he moved his hand from his side. His partner did not.
I pulled the grocery store plastic bag from my bag to reveal the cotton dress I was wearing the day I wanted to kill myself to end this misery of my life. He had held me so close when he caught me I thought he would reach up with a knife and slit my throat. He didn't and I somehow know it was only because he'd found a way to sate his blood lust.
The blood of some innocent girl was on his body and it'd rubbed all over the back of the checkered white and pastel blue fabric.
"He told me the night that I saw him in the woods he would kill me if I came to the police and I am still here. He is the monster you are looking for. This one," I pulled out a Missing Person's flyer of the girl I saw in the woods, "she was there alive the last time I saw her."
He looked down at the fabric, reached into his desk pulling out a box of rubber gloves and put a pair on snapping the latex in place on his skin with a cigarette burning in his mouth.
Picking up the fabric he inspected it carefully and looked back at me.
"This could be anyone's blood. How do we know you didn't bleed on this because he beat you and your hoping we go down there guns blazing?" He lifted a brow my way and I pulled out my second piece of evidence.
A Tupperware bowl that was sealed with the dainty hand of a woman. The other hand was low boiling in gumbo. Now that I had seen his filth he stopped bringing me the grounded meat as often.
The detectives strain on the dress tightened and I could hear the gun rattling next to my head. His partner looked like he might throw up.
"Put that gun down Ace. Go get some water and tell the Sarg we gotta monster to catch," he looked back at me in a way that I couldn't tell if it was pity or disgust.
I didn't care as long as it meant I was out of my hell and saving others along the way.