My Ghost

Honey, I'm home

After that first kill, the long walk home seemed so short. I was in such a state of euphoria that I don't even remember the walk home at all. But it wasn't like what I feel now. It was more like I had faced the gates of hell, destroyed it, and pissed on it to mark my territory like a dog. It wasn't something I felt like I needed to do again to survive, like it is now. It was just something I chose to do to prepare myself for a new identity. Who I was had also been killed that night. I killed her the moment I stopped running at the end of that alley. When I turned around to return to my perpetrater, the woman I used to be, was dead.

I don't remember that walk home, but I do remember arriving at my front door. I was numb inside. I was too calm, too relaxed for someone about to walk back into the house I was walking back into. I wasn't afraid anymore. The numbness killed the fear. It was like that fear never even existed, because I never even existed before that night. Everything was different.

I walked into the living room and just stood there, motionless. I heard him stomping down the hall upstairs, coming for me. He was about to teach me a lesson about running off like that. He was about to tell me to, "take it like a man." And this time I would. This time, I would fight like a man, as well.

As he made it to the bottom of the stairs, his mean, angry look changed into a look of fear and uncertainty, the moment he came face to face with me. I have never seen this before, but I liked it. I know I must have looked horrifying, covered in blood and dirt, rips and tares in my clothes, and my hair everywhere.

He stood at the bottom of those stairs in shock and awe, for what seemed like an eternity, with me staring at him like some demon seeking revenge. He was the one who was afraid now. It was beautiful.

Finally, I said, "I'm taking a shower and going to bed." He stood there, dumbfounded, and said, "Okay." He didn't dare move. So, I brushed passed him and headed upstairs.

The husband I knew would never have allowed such disobedience as to be out all night and then waltz right in to go to bed at five in the morning like I owned the place. I felt like I could take on the world, at that point.

I showered and went to bed without a second thought. As far as I know, he went to work. I don't know because I slept all day. I didn't awake until almost midnight and he was downstairs watching television when I went into the kitchen to make a sandwich. I was starving. He never tried to wake me while I slept. That was something unusual, as well. I could have never been allowed such a luxury, in the past. I was supposed to wait on him hand and foot. But now, he was like a scared little boy.

I ate my sandwich in peace for the first time in twelve years. He never came into the kitchen with me, he never even said a word, or looked at me. This was awesome. I was enjoying every second of it. I thought, maybe I would just continue to torment him like this for a while, at least until I got bored of him. Then he would have to go.