I Must Have

It was absolutely beautiful! There was nothing like it; not a single thing in this world could rival the Utopian, awe-inspiring thing! The quality miraculous to the point that it must have been handcrafted by the gods above! If not formed by the divine, then possibly stolen from one so beautifully pristine that pure white wings and golden halos must adorn.

Seeing as my whole being has been enraptured by its alluring pulchritude; I must have it! My whole body yearns for it as if it was an addiction. Truthfully though, it isn’t that simple. It isn’t just something that I lucidly want, no, it’s something greater - far more congenial - to the point in which it’s not just a desire but a requirement! It seems that if I want to continue living and breathing then I must obtain it and claim them as my own!

To be perfectly honest with myself this attachment and craving has taken its time to develop to this point. It simply started with affection; a subtle longing to just see them here or there. A month passed and I began to desire being by their side. Now, three years later, I can’t handle just simply looking at them every time I see him. My affection has clearly become a lust to own; to steal.

Watching my husband sleep every single night for the last few months has made me realize two things. First, I’ve never truly loved him, just that one and only special feature that is an absolutely divined rarity. Second, I needed to create an intelligent plan that would be successful in making those glowing, teal, passion-filled gems my own.

Six sleeping pills were dropped into his night time tea. Having lived together for a good two years, he didn’t expect a thing and joyfully took the secretly spiked drink. I sipped away at my Chamomile Tea beside him, the glass mug hitting the floor and shattering into a million tiny shards. My tongue clicked in utter annoyance knowing that my idea was already becoming quite messy.

Rolling my eyes, I continued on with my scheme. I quickly laid the plastic over the floor, rolling him from the couch to the now covered rug. His body fell with a hollow thud, his head brusquely hitting the carpet-coated hardwood. Now there was no chance of him waking during the ‘operation’.

Now on the correct material, I carefully straddled him; my knees on his wrists in the off chance of his awakening. Due to finally being ready to begin, my fingers started to tremble in both lust and exhilarating fear. The shaky digits moved slowly towards his face with minimal hesitation.

The process was long and displeasingly filthy. Blood was pooling on the plastic cover, caked under my short, bitten nails, and stained deep within the threads of my clothing. There truthfully was a lot more blood than I had accounted for but it most likely had to do with the fact that the struggling lead to the anger boiling deep within. Frustrated, I had silenced my rage by dealing a blow to his head. He was still alive, I promise, but just with a few more injuries. Despite the excess mess, I still managed to finish what I had planned to do only days ago.

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Now, my husband suffered from spurts of amnesia and post traumatic stress disorder due to the tragedy that he had befallen. Candidly, I truly didn’t care about his well being now that my hunger has been sated. As my partner was barely crawling through life, I was standing on top of the world. While he lived in a dark realm, I existed in a bright milieu filled with many vibrant colors, patterns, shapes, and things I loved; foreign teal eyes elegantly floating in a glass jar specially hidden with my other secret possessions.