Darling...?

The loud booming music in the pub made ears go deaf, but Patrick Maloney was of course, enjoying it. After all, he was surrounded by lovely women who sheltered him with their warm bodies. He laughed at the quiet, sly whispers the ladies gave him, comforting the already married man. The clock on the dirty wooden wall struck six o'clock. Patrick's eyes went wide with fear as the hanging clock told him the time.

I have to get home before things get suspicious.

He kissed the ladies goodbye, his lips gently greeting the womens' cheeks. He retreated to his Cadillac Coupe de Ville, driving home in the icy cold weather, wishing he was back at the warm cabin pub with all the nice ladies. Patrick rushed to get to his old Victorian home, hoping that Mary, his wife didn't notice the time. He suddenly then reached the house he called home, speeding to the door and quickly unlocking it. He felt the warmth of the fireplace embrace him like a loving hug. Although his pregnant wife thought he was at The Police Station of Jefferson, he was really a backstabbing cheater that spends all his time at the local pub in Texas.

"Hullo darling," his credulous wife greeted him lovingly.

"Hullo darling," Patrick muttered, clearly wanting to be away from that yandere.

She took his coat and hung it in the closet. Then she walked over to the kitchen, out of sight from Patrick.

Jeez, this lady reminds me of a yandere, such a clingy one.

Soon she was back again in the chair she always sat on with her sewing things, and in her hand, the weak whiskey she had poured herself. Patrick then sat in his normal chair, across from the woman he treated horribly.

"Tired darling?"

"Yes," he spoke, "I'm tired."

Now Patrick didn't normally do this, but he lifted the glass and drained it in one swallow. He then paused for a moment, leaning forward in the chair, then he got up and went slowly over to fetch himself another.

"I'll get it!" she cried, jumping up.

"Sit down," he commanded.

Patrick got something new, a darker amber drink with more whiskey than ever in it.

"Darling, shall I get your slippers?"

"No." he stated firmly as he stood like a statue.

She watched him like a hawk as he began to sip the dark, strong yellow drink.

"I think it's a shame," Mary shook her head, "that when a policeman gets to be as senior as you, they keep him walking about on his feet all day long."

Patrick didn't answer, he was too lost in thought, blocking all sounds, noises, and people out of his mindset.

Should I tell her?

He thought restlessly, over and over again, the question ringing in his head every second of the day.

"Darling," She called, "would you like me to get you some cheese? I haven't made any supper because it's Thursday."

"No," he repeated sternly as if he was a robot.

"If you're too tired to eat out," she went on, "it's still not too late. There's plenty of meat and stuff in the freezer, and you can have it right here."

Patrick didn't answer, he didn't want to.

"Anyway," she went on, "I'll get you some cheese and crackers first."

"I don't want it," his forbidding voice boomed.

She moved uneasily in her chair, shifting back and forth, starting to get a little worried, her mind racing with thoughts, but she still had her big loving eyes locked on her one true love.

She then stood up, placing her sewing on the small wooden table by the out-of-date lamp.

"Sit down," he ordered, "Just for a minute, sit down."

She lowered herself back into the white and rose-patterned chair, watching him once again, only her gaze grew stronger with worry... she looked bewildered.

"Listen," he sighed, "I've got to tell you something,"

"What is it darling? What's the matter?" His wife asked curiously.

"This is going to be a bit of a shock, I'm afraid," he confessed, "but I've thought about it a good deal and I've decided the only thing to do is tell you right away. I hope you won't blame me too much." He paused. "I hope you understand...You're a bit boring and overall a waste of my time, I hope the best for you and that thing."

There was a long silence between Patrick and Mary.

"So there it is," he added, "and I know it's kind of a bad time to be telling you, but there simply wasn't any other way. Of course, I'll give you money and see you're looked after. But there needn't really be any fuss. I hope not anyway."

"I'll get the supper," she whispered, but he didn't stop her this time.

A few minutes past and Patrick, the now single man called, "For goodness sake, don't make supper for me. I'm going out."

"Patrick? Darling? Light of my life, I'm not gonna hurt you," she giggled. "You didn't let me finish my sentence: I said, 'I'm not gonna hurt ya, I'm going to bash your brains with a blasted lamb!'" Mary laughed as she quietly yelled at herself.

Mary simply walked up behind Patrick and without any hesitation, she swung the big frozen leg of lamb at him. Crashing against his skull, causing Patrick to fall motionless on the fluffy grey rug. Slamming face first on it.

Darling...? Light of life? I'm sorry I hurt you.