All my life I’ve seen the evillest people, but none as evil as I. I am rotten to the core. I am the Devil himself.
My name is Hayley Mcgregory and I am a murderer. I’ve killed the man I love and you’re probably wondering why I am not behind bars. The guilt is eating me. I killed my husband; I killed somebody’s son and a brother.
I did it last Friday night. I remember that night pretty well. It was a hot night with mosquitoes buzzing annoyingly and serpents hissing in the dark bushes. I was waiting for him to come home. His name was Austin and he was not a saint. He had dark brown short, wavy hair, indigo eyes and that muscular, toned physique that got every woman wondering what was behind those fancy suits.
I used to think he was different from all the other I men I dated. He was much worse. He was a horrible two-faced husband who acted pleasantly in front of everybody. It was just a façade, behind closed doors he was a wife-beater. I was a punching bag and he could force himself on me. He raped me. My say to him wasn’t important. He was a selfish bastard who committed adultery. I knew that skank Giselle was his mistress. I tolerated his behaviour when he said things between them were over. I loved him and believed him when he said he would change. No, he did change. I caught them red handed; both naked and making love in my bed.
I snapped and physically attacked Giselle. That bitch felt my wrath. I am not the crying type. She left town for her own good. I threatened her by saying, “You man-stealer if you know what’s good for you, you will pack your bags and run as fast as you can, away from this town because if I catch a glimpse of your disgusting face, I will kill you with my own bare hands.”
I thought that chicken would report me to the police if anything happened to her. Austin found out that I drove away his mistress. He got furious with me. I could see his eyes burning with hatred. The evil eyes he gave me. It felt like a nightmare. This was not a man I fell in love with. It like I was seeing his evil doppelganger.
He slammed the door. Only Lord knew where he was is going. I stayed behind. I wanted to cry, but I just couldn’t.
Sometimes strong people do crumble.
He came back heavily drunk. He attempted to force him self on me again. I pushed him away. He was so mad. He strangled me with his strong, manly hands. He was enjoying it. I couldn’t breathe.
He said, “I want to choke the life out of you, whore. You do not want to make love to me. You drove away the woman who gave me what you failed me to give. You are a useless barren woman who couldn’t bear me children.”
I saw my life flash before me. I kicked the bastard on his crotch. He screamed in agony, letting me go.
I’ve been attending martial arts lesson for self- defensedefence. I went and took a kitchen knife as a weapon to protect myself from this monster. I felt like I was iam in a scary movie where Ghost Face goet to kill his victim at the end. He chased me, telling me that he was going to is so gonna kill me.
I stabbed him on the chest and next thing I know he was is down on the floor, dying.
There was so much blood. I watched him die and and it kinda felt good, but he did not deserve to die. It’s a crime of passion. I could be charged with first- degree murder or get a life sentence without a parole.
I really do not see myself in an orange overall. It was self-defenseself-defence, but no judge will feel sorry for me. The judge won’t care whether this brute of a man used to beat me to a the pulp. Murder is murder, there is no sugarcoatingsugar-coating it.
What came next in my mind wasis to dispose of his body. He died with his eyes wide open. His eyes were is scary, cloudy and he still had gotan evil eye, even in death.
I had got a dump-job to do. I took a shovel and. I went to the forest,that two kilometres away from our house. I duig him a hole. After I was done, I dragged his heavy lifeless body. I threow him in his new home. I never thought someday I would be a gravedigger.
I had freshly dug him a grave. No funeral wreath or coffin. I buried him like a dog. His charismatic looks would ill be wasted awayas within weeks coming, he be will decomposed with an unpleasant odour. Nobody will ever find him. I have d to take this to my grave. It is my dark secret and I have d to live with it for the rest of my life.
I went to the police station. Not to confess, . but toam going to file him as a missing person when I know pretty well he is dead. I do not want people to be suspicious about his disappearance. I know eventually his monstrous mother will ask where her son isis her son.
I wanted to appear as the is sweet, conceerned wife who kneow nothing about his infidelity and wanted her husband back. I might haved gotten away with murder, but I cannot change the fact that I iam a murderer. I took somebody’s life. I am sure when I die I will go to hell.
Tell us what you think: Do you think this woman deserves to get away with her husband’s murder?