From your Kay x.

Cheating. Scandal. And a hole lot of detective work.

His hand slid down her long, thin, petite back as she giggled at his afternoon stories of excuses he used to get out of work early. The sofa winced in pain as I did, but neither one of us dare let out a gasp in case we were to be detected, we were spies on our own ground, dealing with the monstrous dictator that broke their vows. I could tell she was his type. The average s**t he would have picked picked up from the bar with his golden ring in his dark, black leather pocket; probably the coat I bought him for our second anniversary, yes the Ted Baker one that always came back feeling of deodorant as if a teenager trying to cover up their smoking. She just sitting there on our sofa whilst he goes to cleanse himself before the frail girls baptism.

I was still cowering from within the understairs cupboard from which I could see through the hole that he put in there whilst hitting me the first time, or maybe second or even the fifth? His shadow enters the room whilst his figure lurks around the corner from the unsuspecting victim whom pay upon the sofa my mother bought us as a housewarming present. S**t. It was my phone. The low hum buzzed from my pocket; as if a dash of lighting my hand carved into my pocket to turn it off and stopp the electronic vacuum to stop foiling my stakeout... After I hit the big red button, it was only then I got to see who had attempted to ruin me, of course it was him. Who else would it be, other than that a*****e.

Did he know? Could he know? What would be do to me? Breathe. I then saw the text from, “Hubby 😻”. I proceeded to unlock my phone and look at the message that read: “Hey babe, wondering if you had left yet? Might have the guys over later so could you come home later? XXX". S**t. What should I do, cough up the truth and loose any chance of surviving the night? I immediately start typing for him to come find me until I didn't. I stopped, deleted my message and started again. “Hi, working late. Go ahead. From your Kay x.” Why I sign off with my last name I have no idea. Maybe to remind him that the women he 'loves’ had a name and personality.

He strolls back into the room, high off of his own ego and satisfaction of tricking his 'gullible’ wife so he can have a quick shag from whatever desperate teenager he can pick up and through away afterwards. His hands clamps upon the girls shoulder as he nods his slimey, egotistical, self loving head towards the bedroom as if suggesting it's time for the girl to perform her services. Acid burned the back of my throat as if this was just dájà vu from all those years of torture. The girl quietly spills out the words “Please, just let me go home.” He laughs like the sick twisted f**k he is and walks towards the front door and beckons her over the door. like the good puppy dog she is, she stumbled towards him with her tail between her legs. He proceeds to snatch the keys from the keybowl and lock the door, the girl quickly spins around but it was too late.

He hoists her upwards using her throat as a handle and thrusts here against the wall. He shoves his hands down her grey tracksuit bottoms and his hand searches for treasure as if a bomb dog looking for its first bomb; excited, juvenile and ravenous. The girl's face slowing turning from red to 50 shades of white as she slowly fades in and out of consciousness. I quickly get my phone out and begin to open the camera but as I did I see her limp body drop to the floor followed by the door swing open.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

I am curled up as if I were an illegal immigrant within the corner of the cupboard as his reaper like hand swerves in on a search and destroy mission. Until he found 'it’. But 'it’ was not me, it was his duct tape that lay next to his rohypnol and screwdriver, his 3 favourite utensils. Darkness began to appear again as he shut the wooden door and paced back over to his subject.

The distinctive sound of duct tape being ripped from the rest of its family and sewn upon its targets mouth to silence it echoed through the open plan area. Vomit appeared within my mouth at which I instantly suppressed it to focus on the situation at hand, for at this current moment she was being slung over the muscular monsters shoulder to be whisked away to an area where they couldn't be detected, she dug her long sharp nails into his shoulder blade; to which he had no reaction for this was just another Thursday night to him. If I was not to act now I know she would be lost forever to the demon of the the bedroom so I grab the utensils and dash from the cupboard to the upstairs bathroom.

He had already laid out his blue pill and glass of water ready for him to begin the cycle of tying the victim up using the rope from my dying father's mansion that he 'borrowed’ for never completed garden work, then he slides into the bathroom takes his potion, breaks a little girl into an adult then slides her a £20 note and sends her home crying like the true gentleman he is. There is one way in and out of the house, the front door. He controls that as if a medieval gatekeeper: only he may decide who passed through, no escape is possible for I have tried many time so now I had to exit the hard way.

I slipped the rohypnol into his special liquid just in time as I hear footsteps score the lavender coloured carpet, so I lie down in the comfort of the bathtub where I had cried many times behind the vividly patterned shower curtain. A cloud of doom shrouded the room as his outline drinks the concoction and take his pill of sexual chemistry. Perfect. But then he pauses and looks directly at the shower curtain only to realise what was to be behind it.

He drew it back. His dark smoked chestnut coloured eyes met me and I felt the same way I did when I first met him, alive. Was drugging him the only way to have the same sensation as first love? But then he saw the bottle that I was clutching to my chest, sprinting at the speed of life he re-entered the bedroom and ravaged his draw as he only had a few seconds before he knew what it looked like to lose all function of your bodies instruments, he seeked for the counter pill but could not find it so he reached for his father's bone dagger. It was too late.

The funny thing about losing all the feeling to your bodies mechanisms at once is that you are still fully conscious whilst it initially takes place so you can feel the pain of your nerves being torn apart from each other and the clash of your body shutting down.

He fell straight onto the girl's body with the dagger landing directly onto her throat, piercing her windpipe causing her to immediately start to suffocate and blood started to leak as if water from an old rusty tap. Chaos fluttered by as if normality but from within this chaos the monster began to perish due to the force his head collided with the bedpost he had tied me to when he could not find any other vulnerable girls.

I just sat from within the bath, mesmerized by the events that were unfolding in front of me… after several minutes of spectating I managed to gain the strength to prop myself up against the tiled wall. I stumbled in towards the bedroom but collapsed into the wicker chair in the corner of the bedroom that we had bought on our second date that we had to store at my dad's for a year before we got our own house.

What went so wrong? What had I done wrong to cause him to have to abuse me and any other poor girl that came into his view?

What was their to live for now?

I lent over to the dresser next to me and grabbed the notepad and pen and wrote one note. Only a small note. Afterwards I carefully placed the notepad and pen back onto the dresser and I retrieved the screwdriver I had gotten earlier and aligned it with the vein on my right wrist. I engraved to tool deeply into my skin until it drew blood, the adrenaline successfully numbed the pain but never the tears. Adrenaline never stopped the tears. I then artistically drew a straight line from the top of my my wrist to the bottom of my palm where my blood progressed from the skin the the wooden weaves that bound both the chair and the tattered marriage for both had began to rot and where infested by termites. It was at this point where I felt all weight relieved from my body, and I felt and soft hand rest upon my shoulder and a masculine voice whisper “Welcome home”. Whiteness spread around my head whilst the room was engulfed by ruby red residual that covered everywhere but the note that simply read…

“From your Kay x.”