She hated him. She truly, truly hated him. On paper, it came without rhyme or reason but she was sure that she was right. She was always right. After all, these things just built up, didn't they? The anger, the frustration, the all-consuming contempt. She knew that she had done the right thing.
It had been on her mind ever since. Her counsellor had told her that it was because she wouldn’t let the past go, because she kept thinking about it and mulling it over in her mind. She didn’t agree. As far as she was concerned, the more she thought about it the more she realised what she had put up with for all those years. The more she realised, the more she hated him.
It was an odd sort of hatred. It almost bordered on pity. She recalled the excitement building up inside her. The nerves. The trepidation. As she sat and stared at the photograph, the thoughts and feelings came flooding back. Humiliation, shame, and unrelenting anger. She had used those feelings to her advantage, though. Now, not only was she on top of him, but she was on top of the world. She was free. Free from what, she did not know, but she was free. She was also alone.
It had been a long time coming, but she still didn't regret a moment of it. Knowing the pain he had gone through as a result of what she’d done had brought nothing but joy to her. But she knew it could not last. The joy was slowly getting weaker and the pain of what had come before was growing more distant. Surely even he must have learnt his lesson by now. Even the most pig-headed arrogant man on earth must have learnt. Even the biggest sinners could be redeemed, and she hoped that now things had evened out.
She knew one day she would have to face the music. She knew that day would be soon.