The intent was clear enough to her as she aimed her father’s Smith & Wesson .38 caliber revolver at squeezed once more. Splattered on the white wall of their bedroom was the bloody brain of someone she her husband
Without thinking twice, she wrapped her bony right forefinger around the trigger and pulled hard. The barrel recoiled against her breast as she sent two shots volleying across the bedroom. It was definitely a kill shot, at such a close range he stood no chance, the bullet made an entry at his temple and an exit at his occipitals. The first bullet had strayed so she once devoted her entire existence to loving.
It was an exceptional love story; he was tall, dark, and handsome at 6’3 inches with a pair of pectoralis muscle that looked like huge slabs on his broad chest and ripped rock hard abs; he was the dream of every lady. How they ended here after two months of courtship she wondered as her bemusement increased when he proposed marriage to her on his kneels with a ring that had a big shiny rock in his palm.
She received the shocker of her life when the family doctor told the couple that her husband was a first class impotent. In the exact word of the doctor “you could shoot a bucketful and still be shooting blanks”. He couldn’t impregnate his wife and he wouldn’t opt for birth by surrogacy or artificial insemination as they collided violently with his strict Christian believes he always complained. They sought help from different avenues: orthodox, tradomedical, even through numerous physiotherapy sessions; she stood by him all through.
The very morning it happened, a rather determined cold wind blasted against the sliding glass window of their luxurious bedroom vigorously. She heard two loud knocks on the waiting room door and silently slipped away from her husband’s sleepy and romantic cuddle, so as not to wake him up. Picking up their dirty laundry, she approached the door expecting to meet their laundry man but was welcomed by the shocker of her life: the face of a very beautiful lady who clutched a little boy child tight to her forearms, as though she was scared that someone was about to snatch him away from her. The visitor asked to see her husband and she replied, “he’s not up yet, how may I help you?”
So he has been lying to me all this while, so he is not even impotent, so he could impregnate another woman, these were the thoughts ringing loudly in her head as the visitor revealed she was carrying her husband’s son. An argument ensued as she forced the lady out of their house, swearing continuously and beaming with a kind of anger the devil could not even match when he was banished from heaven.
He heard the whole argument between the visitor and his wife and he remembered that this was the product of the last relationship he had before he was exposed to radioactive uranium in the uranium enrichment plant he worked at for the government that rendered him impotent for life. He was deep in thoughts about how he would explain to his wife. Unknown to him, his wife was diagnosed with bipolar disorder by a psychologist after she shot her father in the leg with his own revolver for cheating on her mother; then, also fell into a depressive state where she sobbed bitterly for six months in a stretch, because her beloved movie hero “Spartacus” in the series “Spartacus” died of cancer. Since then she has been experiencing mild episodes of mania and depression which she has been treating unsuccessfully, -Guess they both shared secrets-.
She made her way to the garage and brought out the same .38 caliber revolver she had shot her father with, which was never recovered from her by police and headed to the master’s bedroom.
He didn’t hear the footsteps as they approached the master’s bedroom, but heard the first shot which narrowly missed his neck by inches. He hurriedly faced the assailant and found his wife aiming at him; just as he was about to open his mouth to beg for his life the second shot came. That was the last thing he heard as the bullet made its way into his forehead.
In an orange jumpsuit, she was led out of her cell by the prison guard. It was the day of her execution, her lawyer couldn’t convince the jury that she was NGRI (not guilty by reason of insanity) so she was sentenced to death by hanging.
The prison clergy said her last prayer with her, after which a black hood was placed to cover her head and was led to the gallows. As she felt the roughness of the hangman’s noose on her neck she fell into a melancholic state as tears trickled down her pale cheek. She remembered the day that marked the beginning of her end as she lost oxygen supply to her brain and her carotid artery was displaced; in less than seven seconds she was at the same place she sent her lover.
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