Issues Continued.

The crystal clear vodka hit my empty glass at full force. The sound echoed through the eerie silence of my home; it almost startled me. The pendulum swung back and forth as I found myself glancing at the clock. It was 11 am.

"Soon it will be so," I whispered aloud. "Good bye."

I could feel the pit of my stomach twisting and sloshing from the anxiousness and impatience. I stumbled a bit as I sat upon my leather chair. The dark crimson material swallowed me up gratefully. I ran a fingertip over the material. I'd always loved the smoothness and ridges and during stressful times it helped as a temporary distraction. 

My emotions were awry. My thoughts were only of her, Marjorie. Was she really capable of going through with this? I'd offered to help her and even do the deed myself, just so she would be left with no blood or guilt on her hands. He never knew how strong she really was. All of the emotions that showed weakness were just an act and his wife was secretly thirsty for his death. Of course my little vixen could do this. Who am I kidding? I taught her well.

I arose from my seat and walked to the window around 12 am. I took a cigarette from my pocket and ignited it, as I stared out into the darkness. I inhaled as a faint light appeared in the distance and gradually grew brighter. My heartbeat jumped, as well as my breathing. I watched the car pull into my driveway and come to a complete stop. The driver side door opened and a slender leg came into view. 

"Yes," I spoke. "I already know you have done it."

Another increase in my heartbeat as she walked up the steps, her heels and my breathing, the only noticeable sounds. Even though I expected the knock, it slightly aroused me anyway. I walked to the door, turned the knob and opened it. 

There she was, her midnight black dress that barely covered her could be recognized by anyone in the close neighborhood. Her hair a tad frazzled and bits of make up below her eyes from the task. But she was a genuine, beautiful blonde. Two words and my mouth positioned a smile. 

"Steven is dead," she said.

I grasped her hand, lead her inside and shut the door aggressively. She sat upon the couch, while I sank back into my leather chair, cigarette in hand. One last inhale and all that remained of the cigarette was ashes. Our eyes met and I know she knew what came next.

"Was it a simple task?" I asked her.

"The killing was the easy part. But getting rid of the body without leaving a possible trail of evidence was complicated. You know that," she replied, showing a hint of anger. 

"I figured," I spoke lightly. "Did he die the first time you ran him over?"

"No. I got out of the car and noticed his chest moving, so I got back into the car and shifted into reverse," she explained. "There was nothing left of his face after that."

"Good," I replied, pleased. "Was the body easier to move with the rolling stretcher I left you?" 

"Yes. The wheels helped me move him faster," she managed a half smile as she placed her hands on her lap.

I stopped speaking to stare at a stray piece of her hair and just her in general for a minute. I felt no sadness for Steven. His belonged to me, even from the start. I knew in the end she would be mine, and now, there she gracefully sits. She gave me a funny look, she could sense I was eyeing her. 

"Tell me what happened next," I demanded. "Even the grisly details.'

"Well," she spoke. "After I began rolling him towards our planned spot in the woods, I had to hold his body down to prevent it from falling off or tipping the small table. It took me a little while to find the exact place since it was so dark. The smell wasn't that appealing and neither was the skull fragments sticking out of his head. His brains, blood and tissue was all over the surface he laid upon."

"Sounds messy. Did you get the chance to wash up?" I asked her. 

"Yes," she replied. "I just rinsed my arms and hands with soap in the Piko River, by the shore down the road a bit."

"Tell me about the death," I asked anxiously. She could sense how badly I was craving every detail by my eyes and breathing.

"I got out my lighter so I could see to open the incinerator door. I made a fire and turned the knob to 500 F. I was quick to push his body into the oven and I didn't even have to life him, so I was very pleases and happy that I did not get any blood on my dress."

"The stretcher was a good idea," I implied. I thought of how impressed she must have been with the incinerator. I ordered it especially for this deed. 

"I watched his skin melt and turn into a black crisp.It seemed like a matter of minutes before all of the tissue was burned as well. I turned the knob to 1500 F, the highest temperature. But first I just stopped to admire his bones. All that remained of his body was ashes. He didn't look like himself, or human at all to me. Frankly, I'm joyous that his death brought me something in return. I did this for you, George. I did this for us."

Her words flowed like a melody in my ears.

"The bones," I demanded. " What about his bones?"

"They are no more. The incinerator was hot enough to cook his bones as well. Like I said, the remains were only ashes."

"Excellent, my love," I cooed. "I will take care of the oven and ashes like we've planned. He will rest forever at the bottom of Piko River."

"I will be waiting," she said with a smile.

I arose, retrieved my coat and stepped outside. The air was damp, I could feel it as I opened the garage door to start my Ford half ton. It warmed quick as I waited for a couple minutes inside. I drove quickly. There was no room for error here. I was sure my three cups of coffee would keep me awake at 2 am. I found our planned spot easily, and carefully started backing down the road of the small hill.

About 5 minutes later of backing up, the incinerator came into view. I stayed about a metre ahead of it and shut the engine off, but left the lights on so I could see. The heavily wooded area was the perfect spot for this deed. The oven was still hot to the touch. A sudden uncomfortable jolt was felt as my fingertip touched it. I hurried to the truck and retrieved thick heat resistant gloves. I had never been so ready in my entire life.

I attached two heavy chains on the oven hooks as I replayed the exact plan in my mind for probably the thousandth time. I had to be precise. The river was in view, only about 50 metres away through the trees. The oven was in place and I got back into the half ton and brought the engine to life once more. If there had not been an 80 foot drop to the river, I'm not sure how the object would reach the water without myself being noticed by anyone. This way I was hidden behind trees, it is dark outside and the incinerator is too dark to be noticed from afar. 

The incinerator slid easily upon the dirt, thanks to the thick cloth that I glued to the bottom to prevent excess noise. I had to turn sharp enough at just the right angle to insure my truck didn't plummet into the river as well. I made the 70 degree turn with ease, considering I'd practiced to be positive I could manage it. The incinerator rested about 2 inches from the edge of the drop off. I was quick to hop out of my truck and unhook it. I ran back and moved my Ford away from the edge, leaving on the lights. 

This was the fun part. My smile widened as I removed the shovel from the back of my truck. I was careful, but anxious as I tore away ground from the edge of the drop off. I could feel the ground start to give way, so I jumped back, grasped a nearby tree and watched as the object tumbled along the rocks and into the deep, dark river below. 

"She's mine and you are ashes in the bottom of Piko River," I said, very pleased with myself. I lit up a cigarette and returned to the half ton. 

I hurried back to the house. I opened the door and there she was. The rich aroma of vanilla in the air from the candle she had lit. She looked exquisite in the lighting. I watched her as she walked up to me. I received an appreciative hug and kiss from her. 

"I am going to turn in; I am exhausted George," she said with a yawn.

"As am I, Marjorie," I replied. "I will come to bed afterwards."

We parted. Her to my bedroom and I to the shower. I washed away any trace of guilt I had and let it run off of my body and down the drain. I stepped out, dried off and gently climbed into bed, carefully enough to not wake Marjorie. My eyes grew heavy quickly around 4 am. It had been a long night. 

A few days passed and the news of Steven's sudden disappearance filled the mouths of everyone in the neighborhood. A few months passed and still no sign of his body or any traces of evidence. A few years passed and the case was becoming forgotten by the police. They had much bigger cases to worry about. As for Marjorie and I, our names are now Kyle and Candy LaVeyan and we reside in Germany. Her hair now stays permanently dark. As dark as her previous husbands blackened corpse.

Author's Note

Basically this is a continuation of a short story I had read in my English class. I was required to continue where the story left off. A wife and husband were driving to a party, while driving the wife confesses to cheating on the husband. The man she had an affair with is who was hosting the party. All of a sudden the husband sees an animal hobbling around around so he goes to check and see if it is hurt. With the car still running, the wife slips over into the drivers seat and hits him with the car. The husband was Steven, the wife, Marjorie and the other man, George.
This is where my story starts and is told in Georges point of view.

Reviews

[Still Growing]

I really enjoy your writing style - rich with detail, absolutely no foreshadowing. You let every sentence tell its own story, without interfering with the others except to add congruence. Well done, miss.

[NymphetamineDame]

Thank you for reading, I appreciate the lovely feedback.