🌵 PART 2 🌵 🌵 I K!LLĒD MY WIFE 🌵
It was a Wednesday evening when I got home from a long day of job hunting.
I was only halfway to the door leading to the sitting room when I overheard Famata casually laughing with someone on the phone.
I knew it was the same Jerry guy she had always been on the phone with, and whenever I accused her of having an affair with him, she denied it.
So I pushed the door open firmly, and she jumped in surprise. She dropped the phone on the sofa and turned to face me, her arms trembling.
What’s the problem? I inquired.
Nothing… nothing… nothing, I’m just scared because of the way you pushed the door. She responded.
But weren’t you on the phone with someone? I inquired of her.
Famata: No, it isn’t…
I quickly picked up the phone from the sofa and went straight to the CALL RECORDINGS FOLDER, where I began listening to all of the calls she had made throughout the day.
She first spoke with her mother, then her elder sister, and finally I arrived at She and Jerry’s folder. When I opened it, there were more than 11 voice recordings of received calls.
I start listening to them one at a time.
She was taken aback as her own conversation with Jerry was replayed.
Famata: Please, it’s not what you’re thinking, baby! She begged.
Me: Shut up! So you’ve been having an affair with my own friend Jerry? With tears almost falling from my eyes, I asked her angrily.
The voice recording was still playing, when I heard something from the recording that I almost fāinted.
They were both planning to kīll me and get married.
What?! I yėlled.
Famata: What is it, baby? She asked in a tearful tone.
Me: Don’t you dare me anymore! So you’re both planning to mū.rder me? After all these years we’ve spent together, you still want to k!ll me to marry my own friend Jerry? With a heavy heart, I questioned her.
From this same voice message, I was informed that they had a good time in our own room the day before.
At this point, I was so frūstrated and heartbr0ken that I ran straight to the kitchen.
From this point, she assumed that something else had happened to me, or that I had gone insāne, unaware that I was planning to end her l!fe.
I dashed back to the living room with one of our kitchen knīvəs.
She was already crying and regretting her actions on the floor.
She tried to flee outside when she saw me approaching with råge and a kn!fe in my hand, but I was too fast for her.
I gråbbəd her by her hair and began t0rtůr!ng her.
Stəpp!ng on her st0mach, slāpp!ng her across the face, and k!ckīng her indefinitely.
She cried and begged, but I felt as if I had been p0ssessed by a hundred demons, because I had no mind of forgiveness at the time, and it was as if I had an earpiece in my ear with music playing through it at maximum volume because I ignored every cry she made.
Even our neighbours couldn’t hear her because they were too preoccupied with personal matters, while others had gone out for the day’s hustle, and our house was further away from the other houses.
I began drågg!ng her to the to!let while she f0ught, crīed, and begged.
I finally dra.gged her to the toilet, which is when I began sta.bbing her on her shoulders, stomach and legs, as well as plůggīng her eyes.
I didn’t care that blō0d was dripping from every pore on her bōdy.
I’m not sure if it was jealousy or the devil who was manipulating me.
When I realised what I was doing, she was almost dēad, all her eyes būlging out from all the stābb!ng.
And that’s when I dropped the kn!fe and began trembling, as I was taken aback by what I’d done.
It was then that I started crying and contemplated calling the neighbours for assistance.
But I knew if I did, they’d call the cops and I’d be arrested and imprisoned for the rest of my life.
So devastated and perplexed, I dismemberəd her b0dy and placed it in a red plastic-like bag, dragg!ng it into one corner of the flat and hiding it until night fell so that I could būry it.
I began washing the bl0od in confusion right away.I didn’t even know which cloth, bucket, or materials to use to clean her blöod because I was just p!ck!ng and dropping one thing after another and running around in the house like a crāzy person.
I dashed to the drawer, pulled out $400, and dashed to the market to get some fragrance materials to come and use on the blo0d.
Because the entire house smelled strongly of bl0od.
I almost got hīt by a car while running confusedly down the road to the market.
People in the market were suspicious of me.
“But what’s wrong with this guy?” I could hear some say. He appears worried and hurried, as if something is wrong with him. Something should be wrong with him.”
I returned home, washed the bl0od, and waited until it was dark.
When all of our neighbours had gone to bed at 9:00 p.m., I took the bag containing my wife’s chöppəd b0dy to the field in our backyard and buried it.
I hurried back into our house and locked the door, sitting on one of the sofas with my head in my hands, frustrated.
Despite the fact that my heart was heavy and I was crying and regretting, I was relieved that all evidence had been destroyed.
But, guess what…something went wrong along the way.
I didn’t know that a little boy who had been locked outside of their house that day because he came home late and was forced to sleep outside the house was hiding right close in the grass where I was burying the Corp, watching everything I did in the moonlight.
To be continued….
Stay tuned for the Part 3
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