Beautiful Stranger

Chapter 9

A/N: TW - sexual and physical abuse

(2 years ago)

Living with the old Grinch I married was comparable to life in hell. The man is moody and extremely horny. It's already been 4 years since we eloped but to this day, I curse the second I thought that marrying this frowning grandpa was a great idea. At the time, all I could see was the luxurious life waiting ahead of me. I'd dream about all the vacations i'd go to, all the flights in my private jet, the cars and the designer items. The day he proposed, I felt like I was floating on a cloud. I couldn't be any happier. I thought that being rich could solve 300 problems out of 290. Pathetic, I know. Look at me now, miserable.

When we first started calling each other husband and wife, I demanded we slept in different bedrooms. Obviously, I didn't want to wake up every day next to a wrinkly Gargamel. He accepted and gave me a room as big as the main one. Our first night together, I told him that I needed to rest after the long day at the courthouse and that I wasn't able to participate in any extra activities (hm hm). He nodded and went to sleep aswell. I pressured him into giving me a card and a car of my own. He did as I asked, without hesitation. All it took for my life to go south was our 3rd day together.

Our 3rd day, he was having a very bad day. Therefore, he wanted his wife to serve him and please him. Yeah...you heard that right...TO PLEASE HIM. I for sure wasn't gonna sleep with him. I've been avoiding it ever since we eloped. But, did not having my consent stop him from doing it? No.

I tried fighting him off, digging my long nails in his back, screaming, shouting, crying, kicking him, pushing him. Nothing worked. He stopped for a moment and walked away. I thought it was over, that he had given up. Instead, he came back a rope in his hand. He tied my hands and my feet to the 4 ends of the bed and continued what he started. In this moment I wanted to murder him. Nothing could ever erase these horrible, barbaric moments from my memory. After having resisted for a while, I gave in. It hurt so bad. My sight went blurry because of the tears accumulating in my eyes. Once he finished, he untied me and went to his room, locking me in mine. I hate him. I spent the next few days bawling my eyes out and avoiding mirrors as I was disgusted by myself.

I thought that it was a one time thing. That he'd never do this again. I believed it. But, when the next week came, he did it again. The week after it too. He put me through it every time he was having a bad day. I contemplated killing myself more than once. You'd think that reliving the same thing, the same pain, over and over again would make you immune to it. No. It's worse every single time. You never get used to it, you never become numb to it.

Not only did he force any physical interaction between us, but he'd also slap me and hit me. Every time I'd oppose him he'd "show me who I was talking to". Oh but I knew who I was facing. An animal. An abuser.

One day, I took a gun from the safe in his home-office, and sneaked into his room while he was sleeping. I slowly put it to his head and, as I was getting ready to pull the trigger I backed off. Not that I wasn't going to murder him, I just wanted to have the satisfaction of planning for it. I wanted to study every move i'll make before making it. I also wanted to make sure I wouldn't get caught. Imagine spending jail time for the sake of this atrocious hideous being. I wanted to make it look like he died from natural causes. The bitch was 88 yo, it was only a matter of time anyway. But, I had to do it myself.

I worked on the plan for about 3 years. The more he abused me, the more inspired I'd get. During the day, when he wasn't home, i'd think everything out, and at night, i'd go through all the horrors.

First, I had to make sure i'd inherit everything.

So, one day, while I was playing the good wife, I advised him to write his will. He did. And everything was written for me to inherit. Perfect.

Secondly I had to find a murder weapon that would make it seem like he died in his sleep.

I obviously couldn't google it because, if the police ever decided to investigate his case, I didn't want to risk getting caught.

I also couldn't directly ask a doctor or a specialist because then, they'd have a witness.

For these reasons, I created a chain. The one person I trust the most on the planet (and who also doesn't have any ties to my husband (so the police wouldn't have a reason to look into him)), anonymously asked someone to ask someone to ask someone to ask someone to ASK A SPECIALIST about it. The answer was...insulin overdose.

According to the specialist, it would be undetectable if an autopsy is required . They also mentioned that it could result in a coma so I had to make sure to give him A LOT.

Thirdly, I had to put my hand on some insulin, without personally buying it.

Same policy as step 2, but here, the last person in the chain had to be a diabetic person just so it wouldn't look suspicious. We got A LOT because we needed a lot.

Fourthly, I had to smartly time the murder.

I couldn't kill him right after he wrote his will, because i'd have a motive. That's why I scheduled the crime for a year and a half later.

I also had to make it in a way that "i'd find him dead" the next morning. That's why I had to inject him at night.

Fifthly, I had to find a way to inject him somewhere the shot wouldn't appear.

The back of the head, near the neck.

Finally, the day of.

I played the role of the nice, obedient, wife one last time. I did my best not to look suspicious...and it worked.

8:00 PM.

While he was sitting on the small couch he called his, I stood behind him and offered to massage his shoulders to release the tension from the day. Luckily, and as I expected, he took some sleeping pills before I started. I walked him to his room where he laid on his bed, his back facing the ceiling.

"Ready?" I ask.

"More than ready, love" he replies.

NICE. I kiss his cheek and get to work. At first I actually massage him. But then, when I feel like he's finally asleep, I shove the needle where I planned to and inject enough to make him overdose and die by the time the sun rises.

The job was done, and now, all I had to do was to destroy the evidence. Of course, I made sure that today was a cold day so I could light the fireplace beforehand. I put the needle I used in a blender and transformed it into tiny pieces of plastic. Afterwards, I threw the pieces in the fire and ensured that nothing fell on the floor around the evidence destroyer. Next, the insulin bottles. I broke them, turning them into sand looking thingies, and burned them.

I cleaned up everything and went to sleep.

I woke up the next day and checked that the fireplace looked like every fireplace would after a normal night of warming up the house. I also made sure that nothing was left in it. Ok.

Now, the fun part.

I head to the dead grinch's room, acting like he's still alive. Even though we're alone, I have to act normal because you never know. I shake him a couple times, "trying to wake him up". Obviously...his eyes don't open. I then check his pulse. Nothing. Perfect.

I "burst out in tears" like the good actress that I am and call an ambulance. The paramedics arrive extremely fast and I keep acting like the grieving wife I'm supposed to be. I hop in the ambulance with the dead body and cry the whole way to the hospital. They ask me if he took anything before he went to bed last night and I told them about the sleeping pills.

I wait a couple hours at the hospital before they announce his death. FINALLY. "Tears fill my eyes and run down my face like the niagara falls". After visiting him in the freezing room (just because I have to) I leave the hospital "mourning his loss".

Oh and one more thing, the police weren't involved at all. I just had committed the perfect murder.