DON'T CHEAT ON ME!

CHAPTER 40: Hellish Ending

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"I did it!"

I say, tears streaming down my face, a mixture of relief and rage coursing through my veins. Jordan is finally gone. His lifeless body lies on the floor like the worthless piece of garbage he always was.

The weight of week of abuse, manipulation, and torment lifted off my shoulders, but not completely. Not yet.

The house feels suffocating, like it’s alive and breathing with Jordan’s presence, even in death. This place—it’s a prison, a graveyard of my hopes and dreams. It needs to burn. Everything needs to burn.

I search frantically for something to make it happen. A matchstick, a lighter—anything. I scour through drawers and cupboards, my hands trembling with adrenaline and fury. Then I remember the gas in the storage shed out back. There should still be a few gallons left from when Jordan insisted on stockpiling for “emergencies.”

Dragging my feet across the dirt path to the shed, I spot the three large gallon containers of gas. I lift the first one. It’s heavy, but my anger gives me strength. One by one, I haul them back to the house, each step echoing with the memories of Jordan’s voice—the insults, the threats, the way he always thought he was invincible.

Back inside, I pour the gas across every inch of the house. The storage room where he kept his secrets. The three bedrooms that bore witness to his monstrosities. The living room where his shadow loomed over me like a curse. The kitchen where he smiled that sick smile while feeding me with Dave's flesh. And finally, over his lifeless body.

The fumes sting my nose, but I don’t care. I stand over him, my chest heaving with a mix of triumph and hysteria.

"What's the matter, Jordan?"

I laugh, the sound hollow and deranged.

"You always said that I couldn’t do anything. Well, look at you now. Who’s powerless now, huh?"

I reach into my pocket for the lighter, my heart pounding in anticipation, but my fingers find nothing. My stomach sinks. Did I drop it? Did I leave it somewhere? Panic rises as I search frantically, and then I see it—on the table.

As I move toward the table, something catches my eye—a piece of paper under one of Jordan’s dirty plates.
My curiosity gets the better of me, and I pick it up. The sight of his handwriting sends a chill down my spine.

“Patricia, I know from the very start that I can’t trust you.
I know you’d kill me eventually.
But if you think you’ve won, think again. Within two hours, you’ll be dead too. Do you know why? I poisoned your food earlier. So don’t celebrate just yet. I may be gone, but you’re coming with me.”

The words blur as my hands shake violently. My knees buckle, and I grab the edge of the table for support. The room spins, and Jordan’s voice seems to echo in my mind, mocking me, laughing at me.

“No... no, no, no!”

I scream, the paper crumpling in my fist. My breaths come in ragged gasps as my mind races. Could it be true? Did he poison me? The sour taste of the food from earlier floods my memory. My stomach churns violently, and I clutch it as bile rises in my throat.

The laughter grows louder in my head, Jordan’s twisted smile flashing before my eyes. I turn to his body, fury overtaking the panic.

“You bastard! Even in death, you’re trying to control me!”

I grab the axe leaning against the wall—his favorite tool for intimidation—and approach his body. My vision blurs with red as I raise it high and bring it down on him.