Dear Tressi [✓]

41

It was such a shame.

Des looked at his wife with her slightly parted lips and absent breathing. He knew she'd take this badly. He'd tried his best to stop this from happening—really tried.

But. She. Just. Wouldn't. Let. go.

He let out a deep sigh.

"Y-you? How? W-why?" Tressi asked numbly.

Had he really shocked her that much? Had she really not seen this coming?

"I think you better sit down, Tress. I didn't want us to end up here, you know? I truly didn't."

Looking at her blank expression, he wondered if she'd gone into shock. She really needed to sit down. It didn't look like she was going to move on her own, so he grasped her by the shoulders and sat her down at the wooden steps, near the edge of the water.

"Maybe I better tell you everything. But I want you to know this—I never meant to kill Edda. It just... happened."

It was important that she understood this. He needed her to know that it was never premeditated. It was only impulsive.

Tressi looked up at him, but her face was still worryingly devoid of any emotion. It looked like she'd completely shut down. Had it been normal circumstances, he would have insisted on taking her to a doctor.

Maybe if he told her what actually happened, she would see his perspective. She would see that he really wasn't in the wrong. She would see, how murder had been the only option left. She would realise exactly how clever he'd been to get away with it all.

Tressi needed to know. She needed to understand.

"I loved Edda. I really did. But Lila... Lila was sweet. Willing. Innocent. It was intoxicating. How could I resist? It's the story as old as time—I loved Edda, enough to get engaged to her. But then, along came Lila and I couldn't stop myself. If only she hadn't gotten pregnant, Edda would've never killed her."

"H-how? Lila died eight months after Edda," Tressi asked, sounding calm, but Des knew her well enough to sense the storm brewing underneath. It was so frustrating that she didn't see it.

Des clicked his tongue in annoyance. "Keep up, Tress. They found her body eight months later but she died the same day as Edda. The body had been in the water for so long that they couldn't determine when she'd died with any accuracy."

He stopped to see his wife grab her head in both her hands. She curled tightly upon herself and rocked back and forth. He could hear her whisper, "No. No. No. No."

He couldn't understand why she was finding this so hard to believe. It was all plain as day. Tressi always said she wanted answers, but what she really wanted was blissful ignorance. It made Des angry. She'd supposedly wanted the truth. Well, he'd give it to her.

"How did you even know Edda?" Her words were a strangled cry. Tears streamed down her face relentlessly.

Des took out a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to his wife. He wished she'd stop crying. The overflowing tears must make it so difficult for her to breathe. Moving closer, he sat down cross-legged across her.

"I worked for Vil, when I was younger. When the inspector forbade his son from working at the shop, Vil found himself suddenly short on hands. So he took me in. But I proved myself much more useful than Daxton Lepoci had ever been. I was ready to do the shady shit Vil wanted me to—like work with fences. I was so good with accounts—those lowlifes couldn't cheat the books when I was the one watching over them.

"Then one day, Edda walked into the shop and as they say, the rest was history. We had to make sure that our relationship was secret though. Vil would've lost his shit if he knew I was anywhere near Edda. He wanted to maintain a squeaky clean image after what happened with the inspector's son. But we couldn't stay away from each other. Mind you, I never sold Vil out. Edda never knew what actually went down at the shop."