The night was like all the rest.
Samantha was as distant as a stranger simply sharing a space.
Aside from the fact she was Eric's wife of nine years.
To say the magic had left the room was an understatement for the both of them.
But deep down Eric Scholtz always still held a glimmer of hope for the both of them.
They had been through hell and back and, although he may not have said it enough, he still loved Samantha. Even though Eric had a hard time showing it.
"Baby, I'm going head to bed a bit early, okay?"
Eric knew Samantha simply wanted more time with her sexting buddy from work.
He had long since put the app in her phone to read her texts, as the lawyer had suggested.
It was all so goddamned mechanical, Eric thought to himself. He was broken within and was beyond caring about the burden of proof.
All he wanted was not to feel anything at all.
And as he suspected, the moment he was alone the alerts went off it was all the usual shit.
"Baby, I can't stand it tonight, my body’s aching for you. Fuck, I need your dick so bad!"
Eric was beyond pissed; it was a perverse game and he had enough. He went and grabbed the thirty eight from his jacket.
Went to the kitchen and mixed a stiff drink, as upon mixing the second.
He mixed Samantha one as well and tried to calm his shaking hands.
Eric knew what he had to do and it didn't involve a long drawn out court case.
It was simple and real as a heart attack.
Everything felt different. Almost in slow motion as Eric made his way down that hallway towards his and Samantha's bedroom.
As she looked a bit startled as she realized Eric was standing two glasses in hand at the foot of the bed.
"Oh, you scared me baby. Is everything alright?"
Samantha asked.
"Have a drink with me, sugar. I want to talk to you, sweetheart?"
Samantha didn't question, she just nervously put her phone upon the nightstand.
Eric laid down beside her.
And despite the fact Eric had mentioned talking, he found far more was said in the silence.
Samantha took a sip of the drink, couching and grimacing.
"Is there a cola shortage I haven't heard about, baby?"
"A tad bit too strong for your taste, sweetheart? And here I thought you considered yourself a whiskey drinker."
"I am, but I think a distillery just lost half its supply in that one drink. As expensive as gas is these days, whatever I don't drink I will just pour the rest in the gas tank."
Eric laughed at his wife's reply. She could always crack him up no matter the situation.
As he looked at her, questioning just what the fuck had happened between them to leave them so damn fractured?
They continued to make small talk; it was all as insignificant as how Eric felt about life these days.
He existed, nothing more, cohabitating with a woman who secretly loathed him yet maintained a facade to exist rent free, he supposed.
Samantha was a great actress, he thought to himself, as he fought his urge to simply rip into her.
"So, you want another, sugar?"
Samantha yawned.
"If I had another I would slip into a coma, baby. I'm fighting to stay awake as is.
What you put in that drink, a damn mickey or something?"
Samantha said, slightly laughing to herself.
"Actually, it was Rohypnol and probably way too much, but I'm far from one of your drugged out coworkers that swipes pills off the med cart, honey."
Samantha was beyond buzzed and feeling too good to realize, or maybe she just didn't give a fuck about her husband's snarky reply.
"You know like I told you long ago, baby, it's not rape if you yell surprise first."
"Yeah, I wonder does Sean find that joke as stupid as I did all those years back when you first told it to me?"
Samantha wasn't registering what Eric was saying, as he had put enough in the drink to drop an elephant, knowing his wife's tolerance for most pills in general.
"What the fuck are you talking about!"
"Please drop the act, Samantha, our last moments together should be many things. Dishonest is truly not one of them."
Samantha tried in vain to get up; the Rohypnol had already taken effect. She was but an onlooker to what she could only imagine was her demise.
She saw Eric pull the pistol from his robe, placing it upon his lap as he continued to rattle on as if nothing was out of the ordinary
Eric stroked his wife's hair, watching her slip in and out of consciousness.
"It's amazing how I feel nothing anymore, sweetheart. I'm not angry. I am not anything anymore. I am just existing here, is all."
Eric reached for his wife's phone, dialed 911, and just sat the phone back down as Samantha opened her eyes.
"Baby."
Eric simply kissed her lips, fighting back the tears. For no matter their current standing, there was always those glimmers of the woman he loved and who had all but become a living ghost, haunting and fueling his living nightmare’s torment.
As he placed the gun within her hands, wrapping his hands overtop her own, and putting the gun to his forehead, he quickly forced Samantha to pull the trigger.
The sound was deafening as Samantha was jolted from her coma to bear witness to Eric's body fall off the bed as unbeknownst to her, the cops were already on their way.
Eric never wanted to live his life without Samantha, but he also didn't want her to have a life of her own either.
He had enacted his vengeance in the coldest way possible she had broken his heart and now she would have to suffer the consequences of her vicious actions.
The cops would find Eric's body and see it as an open and shut case of another crime of passion.
Eric Scholtz always believed in the vows.
In death do us part.
And Samantha had no idea how deep those words resonated within him.
Samantha would be charged for the murder of her husband, and he was free of his burden of being trapped upon this plane of existence.
Revenge is as sweet as wine and always best served cold and Eric's blood was that of the serpent that waits to strike when you at least expect it.
Love’s always a gamble, and the best always know when it's time to leave the table.
John Patrick Robbins, is the editor in chief of the Rye Whiskey Review and Off The Coast Magazine.
His work has been featured here at the Dope Fiend Daily, Piker Press, Fearless Poetry Zine, Fixator Press, Punk Noir Magazine, Spill The Words, Lothlorien Journal Of Poetry.
He is also the co-author of The Mirror Masks Nothing along with Kevin M. Hibshman from Whiskey City Press available on Amazon.
His work is always unfiltered.
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