Since I Killed That Guy: A Short Story/ Free Write

I wipe black eye liner from below my lower lashes once again and begin to reapply with lightly vibrating hands. I am stalling.

Any minute now, my boyfriend, Tom, will be here to pick me up and drive us both to the wedding of two of our dear friends. I generally enjoy weddings, and especially wedding receptions, but I have come to dread the question Tom and I inevitably encounter at them. For the better part of our five year relationship, we have been asked frequently and by a wide range of acquaintances when we are going to tie the knot.

It always seemed obvious that we would eventually get engaged and then married. We are that couple that people actually enjoy being around. We rarely fight and have a notoriously good conversational rapport. We are best friends. Everything feels a little bit different since I killed a man before Tom's eyes, though.

Several weeks ago, Tom and I returned to his apartment, slightly drunk and exhausted after yet another wedding reception, to find a man rummaging through Tom's roommate's bedroom. I had entered first and was quite a bit deeper in the house when a man seized me from behind and placed something cold against my throat. A split second later, Tom walked into a terrifying scene. Our eyes met, mine huge and imploring and his going wild with the realization of what was happening, here.

Tom implored the man, as calmly as could be expected, to take what he wanted and leave. The man's reply, "What if I want your bitch?" was not well received. Tom suddenly lurched towards my captor, who shifted to block him while attempting to hold onto me, around the neck. He loosened his grip enough for me to shift though, and my hand darted into my purse and emerged with a three inch switch blade I always carry out of habit. I stabbed the intruder once in the side and again in the neck after he released me.

He fell to the floor and quickly bled to death. Tom, with surprisingly steady hands, called 911.

These events-- not just the intruder/killing incident, but the ensuing, seemingly endless police questioning-- would have been unthinkable just a month ago. The police originally seemed to suspect that Tom had actually stabbed the man and that I was covering for him, probably because he had a previous assault conviction. That charge stemmed from a bar fight years ago, and does not reflect Tom's general demeanor in the least. Still, our repetitive, identical, united police statements brought us closer somehow. We were a team.

And yet, when I look in Tom's eyes now, I see something different than what was there before I killed that guy. I'm not sure I see my husband anymore. I see my warrior partner, or something like that, and I think he might see the same.

I don't know how I would feel watching Tom end another man's life. I'm sure it would be frightening and upsetting and all kinds of disturbing, but that doesn't mean it wouldn't kind of turn me on. So, I don't know if Tom wants to marry me anymore, but I'm damn sure he wants to fuck me.

As I finally get the thin, black line under my left eye just right, I find myself hoping we can find a quiet nook in the reception hall where we can make out and rub desperately against each other periodically, until we have put in enough time at the reception to reasonably leave. Go back to his place, beating his roommates home so that we can make love with the door open, in plain view of the place where the bloody body fell.