Stains of cherry red lipstick sported on collars.
The smell of cheap perfume laced onto his ties.
The gentle cracking of the floor boards at 3am.
She new. But she loved him. And because she loved him she let him go, every night, seeing those sleazy woman in lingerie, letting those whores give him show.
But because she loved him it was hard but she knew this would be the only way, the only way to be with him. And he may not have loved her but she loved him so she would pretend.
Pretend he didn't go out to illegal strip cubs every night.
Pretend he wasn't cheating on her.
Pretend she didn't know.
...... pretend he loved her. And what she did. For him. For them.
But what she couldn't pretend was that she was happy. That she wasn't sad every time he left on false declarations of work. That she didn't want him to go. That she began to die inside.
But she put on a smile. She washed his clothes from the traces of other woman. She let him cheat.....
And she killed him.
Now he laid cold with both stains of red lipstick and red blood.
The stench of others woman perfume and cold steel that lingered in his wound.
now she was happy. She was happy as he laid cold, dead in her arms, she was happy as she plunged the knife deep into her chest. And she was happy as she died beside her husband. They were together forever. that's all she ever wanted.
