My entire marriage has been a lie. My fault for letting it go on as long as it has. I remember my first suspicions when I could smell perfume on his coat. I’d let it go because we’d only just got together. It had been her all along. I can’t believe he would do that to me. I can’t believe she would do that to me. Had there been signs that night? It was so long ago now. It would make sense that she would try to shift the blame to protect herself. To protect our friendship.
It’s been almost four hours since I left Kate’s house. The fury and anger has died down a little now and I almost pity her. She was so hell bent on ruining my family, tearing us to shreds over not being able to accept that she was in the wrong. I wish I’d seen this back then, I could’ve saved us all some heartache.
When I’d come back from her bathroom, I couldn’t believe what I was witnessing. Kate had been pouring a bag of white powder into my coffee mug. She hadn’t heard me approach, so I hung off for a few seconds before going back into the kitchen and sitting down. As I’d watched her use the inhaler I knew she was pretending. I almost gagged at the thought of what might have happened if I hadn’t seen what she was doing. I don’t even know what the powder was. Likely a household drug like a pain killer or an anti-inflammatory. Either way, enough of that in one go would have caused some serious damage, rendered me unconscious. Maybe she wanted me dead.
I hadn’t planned to switch the mugs, it was a spur of the moment decision. I hadn’t planned any of this. It was all her. It wasn’t until I’d left, driven halfway home that I began to wonder if she’d perhaps realised what I’d done. Had she drunk it? I had to know. So, I sat in the car for four hours and waited. Drove around for a while, thinking things through. Stevie wouldn’t have done that. Stevie wouldn’t ever do something so cruel. He just isn’t that type of person. I know him inside out, like the back of my hand. I wouldn’t have married him otherwise. Yes, he was a serial cheater and I stupidly let him get away with that for far too long. But rape?
Now, standing by her front door, I peer in through the small window next to it. The house is in darkness. The street is silent. It looks like there is no one home. I can see my breath on the glass. The key I swiped from the door before I left rests in my coat pocket. I shouldn’t have taken it, I know that. But how else am I supposed to know if she is dead or alive? I was half hoping she’d poured that liquid down the drain after I’d left, because that way I wouldn’t have a dead body to deal with. The other half hoped she’d drunk the coffee and I could just move on. I sigh, take a breath. Who have I become?
I take a sidestep and peer in through the living-room window. I can almost see into the kitchen. It doesn’t look like she is in there and if she is, I can’t see her. It’s too dark. I lift the key from my pocket and slide it into the lock. I turn to face the street, doing a quick check to see that no one is around. The street is deathly quiet, not all of the street lights are on. Turning back to the door, I slip in the key and push it open, trying to remain as quiet as possible. My heart pounds in my chest as I step inside. I don’t close the door behind me. I want it to be open if I need to get away quickly.
The darkness of the house consumes me and the sound of blood rushing in my ears is the only thing I can hear. I walk past the living room and take a quick look. She’s not in there, only the silhouettes of the sofas and a side cabinet. The cat is nowhere to be seen. I turn to face the kitchen door and I can see a figure sitting at the kitchen table. She is facing me. I almost jump out my skin and I have to place my hand over my mouth to stifle a scream.
I step forward and take a closer look. Peering down at Kate, I know what I’m looking at. Her eyes are closed and she is slumped forward.
‘Fuck,’ I whisper. ‘You absolute bitch. You were going to try to kill me.’
That could’ve been me, sitting at my own dining table this evening. Carla could’ve walked in and found me that way, or Stevie. I can’t bear to think of it. My stomach starts to churn and I have to turn away.
I am not a killer. She did this. This was Kate. She killed herself.
My chest becomes tighter as I head for the door, nausea building, rising from my gut. I make my way outside, leaving the key where I found it earlier before closing the door. I head for the car, trying to wipe my mind clear of what I have just seen. Death.
I get into the car and as the engine roars to life, I look in the rear-view mirror, half expecting Kate to come flying out of her house and charging down the street towards me. The thought scares me so much I speed out of the street, keeping my eyes on the road ahead.
She is dead. Dead.
I won’t tell anyone about this. If no one else knows, I might just get away with it.