Guilty (BWWM)

Woman Scorned

Past

Tuesday, March 24, 2013

11:45 p.m.

After a few hours of senseless driving, Corrine decided, for herself and her gas tank, that it was time to go home and face her husband. It was time to grow a pair and tell Richard about himself. No longer could she tolerate him disrespecting her or the sanctity of their marriage. She couldn't put herself through the torture anymore.

As she cruised down the dark roads, she silently went over the lines in her head. She wouldn't yell or shout - Lord knew she was tired of doing that. This time, she'd remain calm and resolute in her stance. As his wife, she deserved his respect, this time she'd demand it.

I'll just go in there, look him straight in the eye- or maybe not since that always fails. She shook that idea off instantly. Richard's eyes were her favorite thing about him. One look into them and she was silly putty in his palms. Maybe I should write him a letter, that way I can avoid that.

Though it was quite cowardly it was the only way she felt could successfully express her feelings without crumbling. She reached over into her glove compartment and pulled out a useless piece of scrap paper, along with a black pen.

Word for word, letter by letter she poured out her soul on the sheet of paper. For every sentence, another weight had lifted from her shoulders until she had nothing left. Weightless and renewed, she exited her car. When she got to the front door, she noticed that it was forcefully opened. She had grown up around enough break ins to know what one looked like.

Corrine had half a mind to go grab the registered .22mm also stashed inside of her glove compartment, but she was too worried about Richard. She pushed the door opened further and stepped on to the polished hardwood floor as softly as her heeled booties could manage just in case there was still an intruder lying in wait.

Frantically, her eyes scanned the living room for clues. Oddly enough, nothing was missing or damaged. At least nothing downstairs. Corrine scurried up the staircase. "Richard!" She called. The bedroom door was cracked open, revealing Richard's legs. "Thank God, Rich..." The words choked up inside of her throat.

The once white carpet had been dyed crimson. "Oh my God," she cried barely above a whisper. "Oh my God!" Vomit threatened to erupt from her throat at the grisly scene in front of her. Mindlessly, she bolted over to Richard's corpse and cried on top of it, recklessly covering her hands in his blood.

Only seconds later, sirens resounded outside of the house. Red and blue lights shone through the burnt orange curtains of their bedroom. Minutes after Richard's shooting, the police had received an anonymous call about a domestic dispute ending with gunshots. Word had gotten back to Connor and he hurried to the Morrisons' home praying that it was a false alarm.

Connor was the first to enter and commanded the others to wait for him outside. Gun in hand, he crept up the wooden stairs stealthily. Whimpers were heard as he approached the bedroom.

"Corrine?" the scene before him was one he'd never dreamed of seeing. The sweetest woman he'd ever met, coated in the blood of her dead husband. Connor was the first to admit that Richard wasn't the best husband, and he was expecting Corrine to finally reach a breaking point. This, however, was far beyond anything he'd imagined her being capable of.

Corrine peered upward, giving Connor a view of her disheveled appearance. Her gym clothes were tainted, big brown eyes were filled with panic, and her milk chocolate face was stained with tears. Her shoulders shook uncontrollably.

"I...d-don't know what...happened. He just-" She stammered breathlessly.

"Shhhh. It's alright, Corrine." Connor attempted to soothe her. He lowered his gun before setting it down on the floor. He stalked toward her with caution, his hands up in a surrendering motion. "I know. It was all an accident, it's not your fault. But you have to come with me now."

"Connor, you think I did this?" She quickly rose to her feet. The expression etched on his face said it all; he believed she was her husband's murderer.

He took out his handcuffs, moving closer to her. "Just come with me-"

"NO!" She sent a swift kick to his head, knocking him unconscious. Thank God for kickboxing. She knew that even if she went with him to the precinct and explained the story, they wouldn't believe her. Especially not with the situation earlier. This incident, however, had everything to do with Bleu and she was fully aware of that important fact.

Snitching on Bleu would lead to her having to tarnish Richard's reputation, which most likely wouldn't happen due to everyone's faith in his character. Surely no one would believe that Richard was playing for the other side of the law. Even if they did and arrested Bleu, there was no guarantee that he'd be kept which would land her in the same position as her husband. She'd be damned.

Corrine knew that she only had a matter of time before the backup came searching for Connor. Whatever she had to do must be done as quickly as possible. She stuffed her gym bag with the extra money stashed away in their safe, after making sure to remove her bloody clothes.

Finding a way out would be the next challenge. Corrine watched the officers through her window. Going out the front door was a surefire way to getting caught so she opted for the back. She scampered down the stairs, skipping two at a time, and raced to the back. All clear. Those years as a track star were about to pay off. She sprinted off into the darkness and didn't look back.

She had no idea what else to do, but run. At least by doing that she had a chance.