She was peaceful, almost child-like in her inebriated rest. His heart pounded as the sound of her soft, rhythmic breathing filled his ears.
Roger motioned forward over his wife, when her eyes slowly opened.
“Roger...” she yawned.
He stared down at her.
Sabrina giggled up at him and licked her lips. “Roger, dearest,” she purred, and ran a hand over his chest, and down across his stomach.
Roger shivered. He had forgotten how easily aroused his wife became after a number of glasses of wine – but of course, the last time she had had that many glasses of wine was ... he couldn’t remember.
Sabrina’s eyes fell upon his body with child-like curiosity as her hand freely roamed. Roger continued to stare at her, shivering, his idea of how to react totally lost.
She let out another giggle and reached farther. She started to caress him between his legs.
“Oh, Roger...” she purred again.
Roger swallowed. In his own inebriation, he found the temptation to succumb to his wife’s seductiveness overpowering. As she continued to squeeze and fondle him through his trousers, the thought of one last night together seemed appealing.
But then he remembered the letters. The letters that smelled of Sabrina’s perfume that only he should have been accustomed to. Those filthy, explicit letters, encased in envelopes wrapped in red velvet ribbon.
The letters stashed in the photo box underneath the bed that his drunken wife lay, groping him from.
S. M.
S. M.
S. M.
Feelings of arousal transformed into feelings of volcanic, homicidal rage.
Roger considered raping Sabrina. He thought about it only for a moment. But he didn’t want to touch that whorish, rancid, infestation, tarnished forever by the countless penetrations of Mister S. M.
Sabrina would not get her way this time.
He pushed her hand away and, seeing only red, scooped his wife up in his arms and left the bedroom with her.
“What are you doing?” Sabrina slurred.
“You looked so beautiful,” Roger whispered, “laying there fast asleep.”
“Silly, where are you carrying me to?” she tilted her head back and laughed as she saw the world upside down while Roger headed out into the hall and towards the front door.
“We’re going for a drive, my dear. To our favourite spot. Do you remember?”
“But, I don’t want to!” Sabrina cackled as her head lolled up and down with each step.
She would not have her way this time.
7
The night sky was dark and beautiful, the air was hot and wet for this time of season, and the countryside's road had a thin layer of fog clinging to it. Roger and Sabrina used to go for drives in the night all the time when they first got married, but within the previous year or so, Sabrina lost interest.
Roger focused on the speeding road, illuminated and gobbled up by the hood of his car. He didn’t know how fast he was driving, and he really didn’t care. Ahead of him, in the pitch black distance, were the two red lights of a driver going far faster than he was.
They were the eyes of a demon watching him.
“Roger...?”
His eyes flicked up to the rear view mirror.
Sabrina lay in the back seat. An arm and a leg were hanging over the crimson leather of the bench seat. The stiletto hung off her big toe.
Roger looked back to the road.
waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii...
Roger’s ears perked. He looked up at the rear view mirror again.
There was a spiralling red and blue light coming straight at him.
Roger sucked in his breath and kept driving. He wasn’t doing anything wrong. He was coming home from a party at a friend’s house. His wife had too much to drink and he was taking her straight home.
The flashing lights in the night grew closer and brighter.
...waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii...
“Roger...”
...waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii...
“Roger...”
“Shut up!” he snapped at her, wide, scotch-heavy eyes locked on the sirens coming straight for him. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple.
The inside of the car was enveloped with red and blue. Roger forgot to breath. Eyes locked on the police car riding up against the bumper of the Oldsmobile.
Breathing heavily with beads of sweat leaping in droves from his brow and cheek bones, Roger signaled and pulled off to the side of the road.
No officer ... like I said, my wife and I were at a party -- Sabrina here drank a little too much. I'm taking her straight home, y'see. No sir -- I haven't had anything to drink tonight.
And then it swerved into the opposite lane and shot past Roger, washing the inside of the car with blackness – and drove with full force after the car the long distance away from Roger.
Roger exhaled.
He let his clamped fingers relax around the steering wheel, and the tremble in his body subsided. He looked into the rear view mirror again.
Sabrina was asleep.
He had no idea what to do with her.
Roger drove on for a while longer until he found a spot far from town in the rural stretch between Radartz and the next town. He pulled off to the side of the road, where, hidden by some trees, was a deep ditch drop.
“Roger, I have to relieve myself,” Sabrina murmured.
Roger could tell from her voice that the effects of the wine were wearing off. He got out of the car and went around to open the door for his wife.
“Help me out,” Sabrina commanded.
Roger stood there with the door open.
“Roger,” Sabrina glared up at him. She shook her head and struggled until she pushed herself into a sitting position against the back seat. Sabrina put her head back against the headrest with her eyes closed.
“Don’t you have to use the washroom?” Roger asked.
“Let me collect my head,” Sabrina said. “Why did you bring me all the way out here, anyway? You don’t plan on killing me, do you?” She smirked at him as she got out of the car.
Roger closed the door as soon as she stepped out of the way. He watched his wife attempt to conquer the drop in the road, where a patch of trees lay a short distance away.
I could push her.
Roger pocketed his hands and continued watching Sabrina disappear down the hill until she was no longer visible.
He closed his eyes and listened to the wind of the night air. A few birds chirped. He heard Sabrina relieve her bladder, hidden in the safe shadows of some trees.
“It’s a beautiful night,” he called out to her.
“Roger, don’t embarrass me,” Sabrina said. A few minutes later, she came back up the hill carrying her stilettos in her hands. “I want to go home now. I'm tired again.”
“Come on, don't be such a spoil sport!" Roger smiled at her. “Let’s stay awhile.”
Sabrina stopped in front of her husband and squinted into his face. “Roger, you’re drunk. We’re going home.”
“Who’s S. M.?” Roger asked.
Sabrina blinked at him and shouldered past.
Roger grabbed onto her arm when she started towards the car.
“Roger!” she gasped. “Let me go!”
“No,” he growled at her. “Who’s S. M.?”
In fright, Sabrina slunk away from her husband, but he yanked her close to him.
“I know what you did to me, you little whore!”
“Roger!” she cried. “How dare you!”
Sabrina found herself lost in his wide, angry, knowing eyes.
"Who is S. M.?" Roger asked a third time.
“S. M.?” Sabrina asked with a furrowed brow. Then suddenly, her eyes went wide with realization. Her already pale face went even paler.
“The letters. I found the letters – and I read all of them. Every single word,” Roger hissed in her ear. “H
ow could you do this to me, Sabrina? I love you!”
“I don't want to talk about this. How dare you go rummaging through my personal belongings!” Sabrina struggled to free herself, but Roger’s grasp on her bicep was too tight.
“How dare you!” Roger cried. “Why did you do it? Why?!”
“Roger, you're being ridiculous! S. M. is my—”
“I'm being ridiculous! Who gave you a house? Who gave you the food you eat? Who gave you everything you needed to be carefree, and who gave you the surname of a respected doctor in the community? And whoring about is how you thank me?!”
Sabrina went to strike Roger hard in the face, but as she swung, the alcohol still in her system sent her body swaying wider than she anticipated.
Roger let go of her bicep.
Sabrina lost her footing.
She slipped and fell backwards down the hill.
Down and down.
Her screams echoed in his ears.
Down and down.
There was a large rock waiting for her at the very bottom. Roger could see it when he leaned over the ditch.
He closed his eyes. There was a loud crunch. Sabrina stopped screaming.
Roger let out a deep exhale. He opened his eyes, and looked down into the ditch. She was staring up at him with a bemused look on her face. Her eyes were wide with terror, and her mouth was open.
Sabrina’s body slipped down against the rock until she sat, semi propped up against it. There was a giant, glistening, splatter of dark blood covering a jagged area of the rock’s face, where the back of Sabrina’s head made contact.
All he could do was stare at her from where he stood, high up on the edge of the road. He couldn’t quite make out the distinction of her clothes and the grass, but her pale face and arms pierced through the shadows.
It was a haunting sight.
“R...Rog...” Sabrina croaked.
Her eyelashes fluttered a couple of times until her pupils rolled upwards and her eyelids closed for a last time. A moment later, she slumped to her left, and fell to her side.
A pool of blood seeped through the grass under her cheek.
Roger went back to the car after a few minutes of reflection on the events that had led up to the murder of his wife – the murder he had just committed.
Could it have even been called a murder?
Yes, officer. That’s right. My wife and I were having an argument after she had to relieve herself in the bushes – she had a lot to drink, you see – and in the heat of our fight, she lost her balance and fell back down the hill...
That was what happened.
Sighing, Roger put the keys in the car.
Roger pulled into the garage a little after an hour later. With the door shut behind him, he turned the headlights off and killed the engine. Roger was left staring out into the dark abyss offered by the windshield of his Oldsmobile.
He was convinced he had gotten away with Sabrina’s death – but in the end, it didn’t matter, because dead or alive, Sabrina ruined their marriage – A marriage of thirty-five years. A mistake she paid for with her life.
Sabrina, a manipulating, selfish, drunken, whore of a woman was the only person Roger ever truly loved – he came to this realization while cranking the windows down.
Roger now had nothing else to live for except for his paycheque.
As he twisted the keys in the ignition, bringing the Oldsmobile once again to roaring life, Roger broke down into quakes of sobbing and buried his face against the steering wheel.
He loved Sabrina so much...
THE END
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