Buffy No More: The Illusion

Part 3

"Let me grab my jacket and I'll be right over."

This was what I said to the girls leaving the bar at 1 in the morning. Let me grab my jacket... The words so simple, the execution meant to be quick and forgettable yet a moment that was supposed to be erased from memory turned into a milestone. I eased into my car which slept in the middle of a lifeless parking lot. Seconds earlier, I watched Willow zoom out in her red mustang onto the quiet road, then Dawn's clanky minivan reversed and headed out next, and lastly Cordelia sped off chasing after the both of them in her brand new burgundy Rolls Royce convertible. By the sound of her rubber ripping the concrete, Cordelia was not thrilled at all about this plan, made completely evident when she shot her trimmed devilish eyebrows up at me before she left. But I was for certain she was with me despite her lack of faith. It was either run around Sunnydale like a couple of headless chickens or play detective. The plan of investigation was simple, we head to the school, Willow would use her spare key to open up and we would search for clues for a possible... ghost... spell... any evidence... which could point to our husbands' strange behaviors. If this failed then we could run around like a couple of headless chickens. I told these three ladies I would meet them in the back parking lot in ten minutes all they needed to do was wait for me. I just had to get my jacket---surprise, surprise, just like all haunted stories I would never reach the school.

Everything started off as planned, I drove wildly down the road to get the coveted jacked. I remember rolling up real fast, slamming the brakes on arrival, jerking forward like the car's loud and unexpected thud was a surprise. Nearly falling out the driver's seat, I wasted not one moment and I busted into the house. I wanted to find my baby blue jacket lying on the rugged sofa where I left it, but instead I found William.

William before I left to the bar was all snuggled up in bed venturing between crazed and delusional, but he was peaceful. Now there I was, at the edge of myself, in the middle of the night, looking like a dollar whore gazing at the slow stream of blood oozing, dripping, flowing out of the center of my husband's stomach. He laid in his own guts and saliva. His eyes staring blankly at that cheap portrait of a flower we bought at a yard sale. Arms stretched to the max, his fingers gripped the blade which did the crime, while his other hand clenched my blue jacket.

Was it the screaming or the calling of 911 that came first?

I had completely forgotten how to conduct a panic mode. I knew it was the moment for me to start knocking on doors and calling family. I knew this was the moment for checking heartbeats and wailing, and flailing, and excessive screaming, but all I could do was stare. Stare and watch as his platinum blonde hair soaked up his own blood causing the dye to go from blonde to a light pink. There was so much blood. Proper thing to do was to call the girls waiting anxiously at Sunnydale High to tell them that "hey can't make it to our private investigation, unfortunately, William was murdered."

Oh, and there was that other little thing, like who killed him, who would want to kill him... and was that person still here? Oh crap hadn't considered that. What if it was Odell and Tracy? There was a huge possibility they could have tracked us down and killed William and was waiting upstairs to kill me. Well who cares? I threw my hands in the air nonchalantly trying to play this whole situation off like I expected it. That's right I said it! Come kill me you bastards! You rather well just finish the job! Come on! Here I am crippled by emotion wallowing in self-pity! I was ready. I was ready to die, I didn't want to do it anymore. It was official, my life broke me. I was broken! I was nothing but a common whore who didn't deserve any happiness or joy or success---obviously---because why else would the universe kill off my husband! I dropped to the ground, my face blotchy red, ugly with wrinkles, my hair stringy and knotted like a bush because my hands couldn't stop clawing at my scalp. I made sure my clothes became saturated in Wiliam's blood.