You know how you can feel your heartbeat in a cut? That’s my
hand right now. I cut my hand. I blame Heather. Fucking Heather. No, don’t fuck
Heather. She gets enough – she’s still got her boy on the side in the midst of
her divorce.
On Monday, I was in the kitchen cutting up a bagel when
Heather came up behind me and apologized. Apologized!
You can just spring that on a girl from out of nowhere. She said she was
sorry for accusing me of having an affair. There was no other explanation, she
just walked away.
I was in such a state of shock, I didn’t realize I had cut
open my hand instead of the bagel until another co-worker came in and swore at
me. Together we wrapped the wound and cleaned up the mess without too much
fuss. Now I have this lovely throbbing wound in my non-dominant hand making it
somewhat difficult to do my job. However, these last few days have been the
most attentive I’ve ever seen Heather. She brings me coffee, she doesn’t talk
back – as much – it’s got me worried.
But more than that, killing is a lot more dangerous until
this bandage comes off. I’m a lot more likely to leave behind traces if I’ve
got an open wound and a fraying piece of cloth wrapped around it. Which means I’ve
taken one life so far this week. That’s
it. And I ran him over with my car which is effective but not a whole lot of
fun for me. I enjoy some vehicular homicide every once in a while but when it’s
my only safe course of action, I get bored.
At least I’m keeping the police department busy. James
obviously doesn’t work directly on all of my cases but he usually ends up
getting called for a few hours to guard the scene or talk to neighbours looking
for witnesses. Miraculously there are rarely ever witnesses.
He’s such a good husband.
He made his appointment to take his detective exam. This
time next month, we’ll find out if we’re in for a pay raise. I hope he gets it
for a couple of reasons that don’t need explanation.
…
For one, I want my husband to succeed, and it will mean more
regular hours. Although there’s no guarantee that he’ll work in the homicide
department but it would be nice for both of us to have a detective on our side.
Plus the aforementioned pay raise. Jason
is graduating next year which means, he’s started to think about his future. I
assume he’ll want to go to a technical college but I’m not about to make any
assumptions about my children’s future. Whatever Jason wants to do, I’ll
support him; I say that now but if he comes to me tomorrow and says he wants to
be a stripper, I may change my mind.
Oh, you’ll never guess who called me on Thursday. Charlotte
Westburn.
It was Daniel’s birthday and she was thinking about me. She
confessed to missing him and to wondering what became of him. I assured her
that wherever he was, he didn’t deserve a single thought from her. He hurt her
and didn’t have the courtesy to say goodbye or leave her any money. Charlotte
refused to go back to the house and instead, sold it and moved back in with her
family.
I hadn’t heard from in many months – I think since Daniel was assumed dead. We talked for an
hour, catching up on our lives. She’s doing well. Working and keeping her mind
off of her ex-husband. I’m really happy for her. We agreed to meet for coffee
in two weeks. It’ll be nice to see her again. Despite everything, she was a
good friend.
I could use a good friend every once in a while.
As always, dear readers,
Stay Safe
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