Secrets.

A fictional story.

   'It's 2009', I thought to myself, 'November 15, 2009.' Tomorrow is the long-awaited funeral of Lucas Peterson. What a humble, kindly man. Gag. I think I'm going to vomit. That prick deserved to "mysteriously go missing." So, I suppose they're going to fill an empty coffin with....rocks? Or maybe just leave it full of air, and pretend it's his corpse they are crying over, and not an empty space. Either way, I will have to put on the tears and pretend to be crushed that my high-school boyfriend disappeared in the deep, Colorado woods over four months ago. Funny; faking my grief wasn't going to be the only thing I had ever faked with him...

    Lucas and I had been together for three years, while I was in high-school. From freshman year, until the end of junior year, I had been scribbling "Grace + Lucas = Love" all over my notebooks. Lucas was no longer in high-school by the time I started my first year. I was positive, with all my seventeen-year-old knowledge of relationships, that he was "the one." I was so naive back then. In the midst of being hopelessly in love, I had mistakenly over-looked his mishaps of showing up an hour late to dates, and often smelling of perfume. This was starting to occur much more often towards the end of our relationship, go figure. I have a few recollections of lying in bed with him and smelling the sickeningly tart, yet tantalizing, scent of White Diamonds. Leave it to Elizabeth Taylor to create the one perfume I despise. That smell was the most over-powering when I had surprised him by coming over on his birthday, and opened his bedroom door to find a girl's head nestled gently between his thighs. My heart was broken as I ran out of his house, throwing the brand new six-pack of Budweiser (that I was going to give him) into the trash. My one regret is not keeping that damn beer for myself. Oh well, you live and you learn. Well, catching him in the midst of his betrayal spawned something new from within me....a kind of anger that cannot be distinguished. An ever-lasting, burning wildfire. At the time, I had quieted and ignored that flame with pints of Ben & Jerry's, and of course, music. I hadn't really given much thought to the d****e-bag for the past six years, except when I was in the grocery store and had caught a whiff of White Diamonds. The fire woke up, and burned with such ferocity, I could only see red. But, that was over four months ago. 

      Being twenty-three years old with a minimum wage job, while all your friends are in college preparing to be successful, is definitely not an ideal way of life. But, when you're living with your bum of a boyfriend, it has to be done. For the past year and a half, I had been supporting Will and I by waitressing at the diner down the street. He is always able to get a job, but to maintain it is another story. He used to always be on the look-out for a new job to help pay the bills, but now it seems he has given up and is content with lounging his lazy a*s around all day, making no contribution what-so-ever. Lovely, no? That's what made me decide to take in a roommate to help with the cash problem. 

       Finding a roommate was harder then I had expected. I had put out an ad in the 'ol newspaper, and the responses I received were entertaining, at the least. This man is 38, and has never lived on his own before. ( Can you say, Mommy's boy?)  He said he was easy to live with, but all he asks for is a large T.V., and plenty of space for his Wii, Xbox, and PlayStation. I thought he sounded okay until he added that he would be receiving packages regularly from a lesbian porn company called, GirlsLoveGirls. Yeah......no. Then a woman, who's age I am unaware of, called and said she's easy to live with (I found that was a common line among roomies), and that she hoped we didn't mind her performing her "spells" at home. After hearing her mention something about a pentagram, I knew she was a no-go. Finally, I had found the perfect roommate. She was my age, normal, nice, and didn't preform any spells that I knew of. Will and I met up with her, and made the final decision to let her live with us, in our 2 bedroom apartment.

       Her name was Nancy. She was a beautiful brunette, who seemed strangely familiar. And, while she was always very polite, she always acted rather repressed and uncomfortable around me, even though we had been living together for over a month.

      I was laying out my dress for the funeral tomorrow, and was making sure it wasn't wrinkled. It was a plain, black dress. I didn't want to stand out in any way by wearing one of those elaborate, lace and fluff dresses that some wear to funerals, as if they are saying "I'm grieving the most!" It's not a contest. However, if it was, I'd definitely win. Why would I win? Simple. Because I had a secret. Not a little, "I slept with his brother" kind of secret, but a secret so catastrophic, so devilishly delicious, that it brought a sick smirk to my lips just thinking about it...

      Four months ago, the memories from high-school were flooded back into my head when I had smelled the forbidden perfume at the store. My deep, evil anger decided to become my friend when I was reminded of my cheating lover. That day, when I had come home from the store, I decided to make a little note to myself. The note was partly a joke, but mostly serious. After I had finished my little note, and Will had gone to bed, I decided to try to contact Lucas, my former sweetheart. I looked him up, and what a surprise, Dr. Lucas Peterson. An MD, fan-f*****g-tastic. But, I swallowed my pride and gave him a ring, despite the late hour. I left him a voice mail, play-fully suggesting that we should have lunch and catch up, monotonically repeated my number, and hung up. Much to my delight, I had a return call from him when I had awoken the next day. We decided on having lunch together at a nice little chain restaurant. He told me all about his exciting career as a doctor, and I pretended to care. I suggested that after the lunch, me and him take a drive through the scenic wilderness, since he wasn't use to the wildlife in this part. He agreed to my fabulous idea, and I sneakily crossed another line off of my note.

        Driving through the beautiful area "suddenly" inspired me to pull off the road and drive into the woods, to get a better look. We drove down the little dirt road for a ways, until I decided it was far enough. We parked, and got out of my car. As he shut the passenger door, he remarked on how he was so glad there was no hard feelings between us. Ha. Foolish man. We walked away from the road, and deeper into the woods. I casually felt around in my purse for a second, making sure I had what I needed. Fortunately, I did. He had his back to me as he was admiring a squirrel eat a f*****g acorn, but all I could see was red. I quickly pulled the knife out of my purse and plunged it straight into his back. He fell to the ground as I kept stabbing him, over and over, in pure angered bliss. 

       "No hard feelings, huh?!" I shouted as I thrust the blade into his now limp body.

      I had been partly straddling him from behind while I had been stabbing him. Now, being pretty sure he was dead, I got off of him and went to go open my trunk. I looked down for a quick second, and noticed I was covered in blood. F**k. Oh well, I'd figure that out later. I opened my trunk and got out a few necessary items. I took the hand saw that I had brought, and attempted to dis-member him, but failed terribly. Damn, the movies make it look so easy! I decided to change my plan up a bit. Spontaneity is exciting. I took the shovel I had brought, and thanked God the ground was moist. I then started to dig. It was the most digging I had ever done in my life. After digging as deep as I possibly could, I rolled his bloodied corpse into the hole, and began to bury him. I smoothed the dirt over, and tried to make it look like it had before. Finally, it was looking smooth and spiffy, and I proudly threw my shovel back into the trunk. But now, I had to figure out what to do about my clothes. Great. Well, at that time, Will had a job so nobody was home. I would rush home and deal with myself there. All went well. I got home and looked over my note. My plan was completed, so I ripped it up and flushed it down the toilet. I changed my clothes and burned my bloodied clothes and threw the ashes away. I sat on my couch and reviewed my perfect job, that seemed absolutely fool-proof. I practiced what I would say when I was questioned about his where-abouts. 

   "We had lunch, and while we were talking he mentioned something about going hiking later...." (this is where I'd start to cry) "I just can't believe he's missing!"

      It obviously had all worked perfectly, because now, four months later, I was going to be attending his funeral. 

      I had finished smoothing out my dress, and was deciding on what shoes I was going to wear. As I did, Nancy wandered into my room. 

     "Hey, I just thought you should know I'm really sorry about your ex....and I kind have something I need to tell you," she said as she warmly embraced me.

     "Sure, what is it?" I answered curiously.

      "This has been weighing on my conscious since high-school, and it might be a bad time to tell you this, but I think you deserve to know.........I was the one Lucas was cheating on you with. I'm sooo sorry. When I saw your add for a roommate, I thought I should take it and help you pay your bills as a way of paying you back for what I did to you," she admitted with tears streaming down her cheeks. 

      "Oh, Sweetie," I started, "that was a long time ago. Don't worry about it,"

I got up to go get her some tissue from the bathroom to wipe her eyes with. On my way to the bathroom, I passed by her room. I glanced in there for a moment and saw a new bottle of White Diamonds sitting on her dresser. I smiled to myself, knowing in a few months I'd have another funeral to attend.

        

Author's Note

Ignore any typos and grammar mistakes.

Reviews

[Elemenopy]

I suppose psychos are fun to read about every once in a while. Though I do always find these 'revenge psychotics' a tad derisory. Give me a killer who doesn't like someones hair, or how they ordered their meal, and you will have me hooked. Sad to say though, I find this 'my high school lover cheated on me so I will get my revenge!' plot simply laughable. I watched that Valentine movie once...

I think you have a cool creeper idea, and I believe the story was written well. I liked the snide ruthlessness of the narrator, it helped me believe that she actually was insane. Per your request I ignored the grammar and typos, though there were not many. I don't really have any other suggestions... except maybe change the cliche 'my cheating ex must die' plot. Keep writing.

[Mr Alednac]

:o wow that's a really crazy story I like it though very creepy. Good job :)