1This is for my husband.
My dear husband, I love you so much. Writing this letter is the most difficult thing I have to do. I don't know if this will hurt you to make you stronger but I'm hoping for the second option. We have been married for twenty years and I think it's time that I wrote this to express my gratitude to you.
But I don't think you deserve it.
What you thought this was going to be a loving letter about how good and gracious my darling husband is? Well this again!
He didn't think I would know about the whore he was sleeping with for two years! I caught the bitch coming out of his office adjusting her dress and covering up her chest! That filthy, disgusting pig thinks I'm dumb and wouldn't know! He let his masculinity cloud his mind thinking any woman will get on her knees and beg for him.
I'm not that woman.
I'll kill him just for thinking he has that type of advantage on me. He knows I'm not the type of girl to just give it up to a man willingly. He must want to see God sooner than he thinks. Even had the audacity to have that bitch in my home! Their sweat and scent all over my bedroom and bed and covers and I just want to kill both of them.
I just think back to the times I sat at the dinner table waiting for my husband to enjoy a meal with me that I cooked with my bare hands. I cried every night when he came home late at night just to sit down on the couch and watch fucking television. I can't even express the anger I felt when I picked up his phone and saw a text from a female asking if he's available!
It hurts me to know that one woman wasn't enough for him. It wasn't enough for him. I wasn't enough. Why?
It was my plan to find out as I sat in my car with a gun on my lap and sunglasses on my face. My anger is slowly being taken over by my sadness and my stupidity when tears run down my face because of his betrayal. I would ask myself how this happened but deep down, I know why.
I try calming myself down and wipe my tears away as I get out of the car. I'm making my way to our apartment that we spent so much building up with the love I believed we had. Turning the doorknob, I smell cinnamon and apple. That's your favorite type of candle and I would always buy it for him. I hear music and laughter and it's killing me.
He's killing me.
Walking down the hall and the sound of voices getting stronger and I grip the gun harder. I kick down the door startling him and his mistress. He was going to move but pointed the gun at him and told him to sit back down. The smell of the candle and cigarettes made me want to puke. This sick feeling in my gut is screaming at me to turn away and leave. I don't need him and he clearly doesn't need me.
The scream from the mistress made me point the gun at her and pull the trigger. I witnessed the bullet hit her in her head. He looked at what I've done to her and tried to get to me but I moved too quickly for him and shot him in the chest. He stumbles and looks at me with fear in his eyes. I ignore that fear and pull the trigger again, aiming at his head. I can't let him hurt me or any other woman again. I wouldn't this woman become another homewrecker.
To my dear husband.
I know that I wasn't good enough for you but I know I did the best I could to love you. Did you love me? Do you love me now? In the next lifetime, I hope you're regretting what you did to me while I relish in the thought of ending my misery. I take pride in killing you rather than loving you. You didn't need anything from me but sex and money and to look good.
Well now I hope he learned his lesson.
I love you.
Signed, the woman that killed you.
