24 hours ago, I was celebrating a fantasy football win. My life was perfect, and now it’s in pieces. I’ll start at the beginning. The names have obviously been changed.
I lived a relatively boring life. My wife and I married each other right out of college and we began to put together a modest middle class life. After passing several actuarial exams, I received a big promotion at work. That promotion came along with a bonus, which I spent on a down payment for a house. We’ve lived a happy life in that house for about 2 years.
Sundays are for football in our house. My wife and I watched football all day yesterday. She made a 3 cheese dip, and I grilled brats. It really was the perfect day. I was on the edge of my seat watching the Cowboys game that evening. I was sure Romo would blow it, but he came through, and I won my fantasy game 103-101. My wife was just as excited as I was. We fooled around for a while and eventually fell asleep in each other’s arms.
I woke up in the middle of the night to a bright light in my face. It was blinding. I was confused, and I thought maybe I was still dreaming. I slowly started to wake up, and then I noticed someone was breathing heavily in the room.
My wife doesn’t breathe like that, I thought. And then I noticed, whoever it was, was whispering something. Chanting.
“I’m going to kill him….I’m going to kill him….I’m going to kill him”
Adrenaline must have kicked in at this point. I tried to grab the flashlight that the stranger was shining in my face. He reacted swiftly, grabbed my hand, and squeezed to the point of pain. I started to cry out.
“AHHH-” he immediately let go of my hand and covered my mouth.
“Shut.The.Fuck.Up” he said tersely, as he tapped the barrel of the gun to my temple with each word. It sounded as if he was speaking through gritted teeth.
“Aahhh-“ my wife began cry out and he then covered her mouth. He was over both of us. One of his knees on each of our chests.
“Let’s establish some rules,” he whispered aggressively. “First rule. If either of you talks. I will hurt the other one.”
He laid his Maglite flashlight down beside by leg, and pulled out a knife from a holster on his waist. He had a knife holster on one side and a gun holster on the other side. The knife had a black handle, and the blade was about 6 inches long. It was serrated near the base. This was the first time I got a good look at him. I noticed that I was bigger than he was. He was probably about 5’8”, maybe 160 pounds. I am about 6’2 210 pounds. His blue eyes stood out from behind his black ski mask. He wore a black zip-up sweater jacket, and black leather gloves.
“If either of you yells, then I shoot the other one.” He growled pointing at his gun. It was a black gun. I can’t describe it much better than that. I’m not a gun guy. He had a deep voice, but it sounded like he was trying to mask it through gritted teeth
“Now, I’m going to get off of you, and you’re both going to get up slowly. First you” He said pointing to me with the flashlight. “And then you” He said pointing to my wife with the flashlight.
It was the first time during this ordeal I noticed how terrified my wife was. She was pale as a ghost, and her eyes were wide-open, full of terror. Those eyes asking me to protect her. It made me both sad, and infuriated. I was powerless to help the woman I loved. I promised her dad that I would protect her.
I followed his orders. I lifted the sheets and got out of bed slowly, just as he said. I was naked since my wife and I had been fooling around before we went to sleep.
“Over there. Fucking move it!” He said signaling to the side of the room adjacent to my wife’s side of the bed.
My wife got out bed. Holding the sheet over her naked body, trying to maintain her decency.
“Drop the fucking sheet! I don’t want you hiding anything under there.” He barked.
My wife dropped the sheet and simultaneously tried to cover herself up. She looked like a puppy who had just been kicked. That made me furious, but the thought of him cutting into my wife made me hold my tongue.
“Now both of you will proceed to slowly lead me into the kitchen,” He ordered.
I took my wife by her trembling hand and led her into the kitchen, the masked man followed us closely, and pushed the barrel of the gun between my shoulder blades. Our ranch house has a big living room with a high ceiling. A hallway from the living room led to a bathroom and our bedroom. On the other side of the room was the kitchen. Our living room had a big sectional, a big screen tv and a desktop computer sit in the chair.
“STOP!” he said. I immediately came to a stop.
“Let’s get to know each other,” he tapped my wife with the gun “Honey, what’s your name?”
My wife was silently sobbing, but managed to say “Claire” softly.
He turned me around and looked me in the eyes. Those cold blue eyes burning into me. “And your name sir”
“Matt,” I said not breaking eye contact.
“Matt, call me Jennifer,” he instructed me. It felt odd to call an overly masculine figure by the name of Jennifer, but the whole situation was so strange that I didn’t think much of it.
“Matt,” Jennifer called out to me “Go into the kitchen and lay face down on the tile.”
Our kitchen has a dinner table, an island, and a refrigerator with cabinets above it. Sometimes Claire can’t reach those cabinets and I have to do it for her. I laid face down between the island and the refrigerator.
“Claire,” Jennifer instructed. “Grab four plates and place them on Matt’s back. Matt, you are to lay face down until I tell you otherwise. I will know if you get up because I will hear the plates crash into the tile floor. If I hear the plates fall, I will kill your wife. Do you understand?”
Claire began to sob a little louder, as she placed the plates on my back.
“Yes,” I said into the tile floor.
“Claire, you and I are going to have a little chat in the bedroom,” Jennifer said. “Come with me.”
My heart immediately began to pound when I heard that. That man alone with my wife. I began to sweat bullets. I can’t stand the thought of another man being with my wife. I have a bad jealous streak. It’s my greatest weakness. I don’t smoke, I don’t drink, but I get angry when another man looks at my wife. I tried to bury the emotions inside of me and think of a way to protect her. I cocked my head to one side, being delicate so the plates on my back did not topple. I looked at the microwave clock. 3 am on the nose. I thought and I thought and I thought. 3:05 the clock read. He had been in there for 5 whole fucking minutes doing god knows what to my wife. I had to think of a way out of that mess.
“Insulin. Insulin!” I cried out. It was a gamble, but I had to do something.
The door to the bedroom opened. I heard two sets of footsteps behind me.
“The fuck are you yelling about? I told you to shut the fuck up! You’re lucky I didn’t kill your wife,” Jennifer yelled pointing the gun and flashlight at me.
“I need insulin. It’s in the fridge. I’m diabetic. I’m about to go into shock,” I said. I looked at the refrigerator.
“Un fucking believable,” Jennifer said. He paused for a moment. "I could let you die now. But I want to talk to you before you die. I'll get your precious insulin."
He made a big mistake. He has his back turned to me I thought.
I’ve played sports my entire life. I have always been quick. I took a gamble and sprung to my feet as fast as I possibly could. I played linebacker in college, and my instincts took over. Before he could turn around, I tackled him, crashing into the fridge. The force of the blow sent the gun and flashlight flying. Jennifer didn’t recover from the blow fast enough to react, but I kept my wits about me. I immediately found his knife and began stabbing. I stuck the knife wherever I saw flesh; rapidly thrusting the knife into his back as it became a bloody mess. I was in a blind rage. My teammates always said when I played best my eyes looked lifeless. I’d go into a rage and blackout the way a drunk might after he’s had too many drinks. I played my best when I went into those blind rages. When I was stabbing that guy, it felt like I was playing in the game of my life.
“Matt stop! You’re going to kill him!” Claire yelled as she slapped my back.
It took me a minute, but I stopped, and I turned around.
“Claire! What did he do to you?!” I asked in panic.
“Nothing! He just talked to me! Don’t kill him!” she pleaded with me.
“What the fuck did he say?!” I asked.
Claire paused and then spoke softly.
“We talked about you,” she said while looking at the ground, and combing her long blonde hair behind her ear. This was her nervous twitch. I’d known her long enough to know what was coming next could not be good.
“Claire! What did he say?! Out with it!” I yelled.
“Matt, the name Jennifer. You know that name,” she said calmly “It’s been all over the news for the past two weeks.”
I stopped dead for a moment. My heart still pounding. Claire was right. I did know that name. I can hide my emotions in front of everyone, but not my wife. I tell her everything, and it comes naturally. I went pale and stared at the ground.
“She’s the girl that got hit by the car. The 5 year old,” I said.
“Oh god Matt!! Is what he said true?! DID YOU HIT HER AND DRIVE AWAY?!!”
I did hit that girl and I did drive away. I did it all for Claire though. I love her so much. My phone played my wife’s ringtone, and I took my eyes off the road for 1 second. 1 second. I swear to god it couldn’t have been more. I heard a thud at the front of the car, I heard a scream, and I heard something go under the tire. I couldn’t stop. I worked so hard for that life. I had a great job, the girl of my dreams, and a house. 1 second I took my eyes off the road for Claire. I hit the gas.
“He saw you Matt!! He saw you!” Claire said between sobs. “He saw you kill his little girl. He told me he wanted me to know exactly who I was married to. A child killer.”
“Why didn’t he kill you?” I asked.
Claire swallowed hard and said “He told me he wouldn’t kill me if I gave a false description of him to the police.”
“Did you tell him you would do that?” I started to tear up.
Claire looked at the ground and combed her hair behind her ear.
My heart sank. She was already gone. I can’t stand the thought of someone else being with my wife. She was going to leave me and be with another man. Do you have any idea how fucking angry that makes me? I go into a blind rage when I’m angry.
I don’t remember what happened next. There was so much blood. I can’t believe a five foot three, hundred and ten pound girl had so much blood in her. Her blonde hair stained red with blood. The thing that haunts me the most though is her eyes. They were staring up at me. Asking me to protect her. To protect her from whoever I became in that blind rage.
Guys, I spent the whole day cleaning up the mess. I wrapped my bride in plastic, and I was intent on dumping her and “Jennifer” in the river. But now I’m looking at Jennifer’s gun, and I think I know how to protect Claire from the guy I become in the blind rage.
Submitted September 15, 2015 at 10:31AM by throwaway6221988 http://ift.tt/1NAeRvH nosleep
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