In cold blood

In cold blood

A Story by Jenney Clark
"

ROMANTIC DARK NOIR WITH A TWIST

"

In Cold Blood

 

By Jenney Clark

 

She lived in a nightmare, the walls of the cell imprisoning her like the jaws of a monstrous dragon. There was no escaping it, guilt ate at her soul and anguish ravaged her heart. Everyday was a moment closer to death. She contemplated suicide like a man courts his lover. She embraced the thought of death; it was her only escape from this hell that had become her life. Over the last one month, she had lost everything she held most precious, her family, her love, her career, her life.

 

After lots of soul searching and a good deal of fear, she sat down to writing a letter to her mom. She began writing in a shaky scrawl, her head pounding from gruesome memories, her gut clenching and twisting in remembered pain.

 

Feb 17th, 2014

 

Teton County Detention Center,

Jackson,

Wyoming,

 

Dear Mom,

 

If you are reading this, I beg your forgiveness. I am doing so, despite knowing that you will not grant me forgiveness or mercy, not now, not ever. It’s been over 2 weeks since I was locked up and none of you have visited me…even once. I know I have committed an unspeakable offense and a ghastly scandal.  There is no one to blame but me. You may not want to hear this but in all good conscience I need to come clean or I may never have closure….Despite my act of bravado and the appalling thing I have done, I beseech you just this once; please hear me out.

The walls are closing in on me, silent screams run through my head. I live in a dark place in my heart. I have received poetic justice one way or another, I cling to the belief that even if I never forgive myself in this life time perhaps someday you would…and perhaps Aunty Rose too.

As I write this, childhood memories flood my mind. Reminisces of Laurie, Kitty, you and dad too. I miss dad…perhaps if he were alive I would’ve been a slightly different person. In my head, I can see your smiling face as you scoop little Laurie into your arms, pressing her to your bosom even as you cuddle her. You have adored Laurie her entire life, she, your beautiful, blonde angel who could do no wrong. Never mind that she threw selfish tantrums to get what she wanted. As for Kitty, being the little one, your youngest, you have always had a soft spot for her.

I see her now in my mind’s eye, the Kitty of 15 years ago as she sits on the kitchen counter sucking her thumb…. Its Christmas season and time for you to get busy, preparing goodies for our relatives and neighbors. There you are in your apron strings, dashing around doing the dishes and cooking while the aroma of freshly baked chocolate cake wafts around our comfy little kitchen.. I charge in on my 12 year old feet, you shew me away. My mouth waters and I yearn for a taste of your famous chicken casserole. You put me out of your mind even as you give Kitty a cookie. My eyes glisten with unshed tears and as I walk away, Laurie prances in, woolen cap askew on her blonde curls. You shut the back door to keep the chill away. She gets a warm smile and hug from you. Why do I feel like an outsider? I almost die inside but better sense prevails. Some cold sane part of me, shakes me up, I tell myself I am the eldest and that you expect me to behave like a grown up. I sulk back to the living room and flip back the recently read Nancy Drew Classic. It doesn’t interest me anymore. I pick up the head phones and drown myself in some “Madonna” pop. I miss dad, 5 years and I still haven’t come to terms with his passing.

My flash back takes me on a fast forward.  It’s 2014 and I am heading home to Jackson Hole from Salt Lake City after the teachers conference, keyed up and happy as only a future bride can be. I plan all the wedding arrangements in my head. Daniel and I have planned a Valentine’s Day wedding. His idea…I thought he was being incredibly romantic. I glance down at the big rock on my finger; my hands grip the wheel in elation. I am blind to the scenic beauty of Wyoming. The  song “cruise” is playing on the radio, I switch stations and find Pink’s “blow me one last kiss”. I hum along as I recall how I have waited years for this.  Maybe ever since my thirteenth birthday; the day I sat on our front porch and shared that first kiss with Danny boy. The butterflies in my stomach tighten with anticipation.

Daniel and I had plans; we wanted to complete the backlog of work in time for the wedding. So it was a mad rush over the past 1 month with hardly anytime to catch up. Since we are not living together, this is harder. But today, I am about to surprise him, I am back a day early. The motivational speaker was boring and I have important things to do back home. I know Daniel hates surprises but this was a good one wasn’t it?

My heart speeds up as I imagine “D” day and wearing the “Vera Wang” that is hanging in my closet. Laurie’s choice as she urged me to indulge myself on our “all girls trip” last week in the big apple. My shopping spree had been over the top with my sisters cheering me on. The Jimmy Choos were to die for and the wedding gown a dream in Swarovski crystals. The girls convinced me that both were a must have, they then pushed me for a makeover. I was given the complete spa treatment, my dull brown hair received highlights and its wild unkemptness straightened into silky submission. I fairly glowed with all the pampering. I was over the moon.....ecstatic… the oohs and aahs from the girls were compliment enough.

I shake myself and bring my thoughts back from the distraction. The drive seems even longer than I was expecting, I haven’t seen Daniel since the New York trip. What with his packed schedule and my trips out of town, we just haven’t had the time. I know it is time to unveil my look. The wedding is just a week away and I want him to love this new “me” that he is marrying. I can’t wait to show off. My luck never fails to astonish me; I can’t for the life of me figure out how a tall hunk of a man like Daniel Shelby could love the dull Sara Cooper. His success in the tourism business is intimidating enough; a middle grade school teacher like me can’t even begin to compete.

I have always imagined that our love story was the stuff of legends, we are childhood sweethearts, all our firsts have been together. Prom date, first make-out in his dad’s pick up, that kiss, the first taste of beer and smoking pot at 14…yeah mom, that too, don’t get shocked…most of my firsts were with Dan. Oh how I loved him! More fool me.

So there I am speeding my way to his place at a tempo I never attempt. I can’t wait any longer. I am ready to be Mrs. Shelby this second. It is dark by now; I slowly ease into his driveway turning off the engine as I do so. I recognize the flashy red corvette parked beside his Jaguar. What is she doing here, run my thoughts? Perhaps planning things for my wedding I assume since they work closely. She has been his assistant for the last 5 years.

Not wanting to ruin my surprise, I silently fish around for my spare key and turn the front door open. I look around, the living room is empty. Gay laughter filters in from the direction of the bed room. Mom believe me when I say this, standing there on his luxurious carpet, I still wasn’t suspicious. Until I hear her nervous giggle, typically she does that when she is manipulating someone. Her voice has a persuasive quality to it.

-         “Darling Danny boy” she says… “You know how dumb Sara can be, she still doesn’t suspect. Why can’t you call it off? You know damn well she forced you into this sham”

-         “I tried my honey bunny” Danny gloats, his voice a low husky drawl. “Been staying away the last couple of months. She just doesn’t get it, pathetic fool… we’ve been carrying on behind her back for years and all she does is adore me. That fake boyfriend of yours Charlie whatever’s his name, doesn’t help…. I hate him why do you have to make me jealous kitten?”

-         A red hot rage possesses me as I sneak closer to the bed room door. She is purring something to him, he guffaws…… the closer I draw the clearer their voices become, they are doing more than talking.

-         “Please  my love” she is telling him now…her voice punctuated with kisses….I can hear her moaning…… “you leave her and I’ll leave Charlie”

Rage consumes me by the time I stand by the door of Danny’s bed room. Yet some sane part of me is cold, detached even…they say there is a method to madness and mine is in that minute. They don’t hear me come in, smug in the assumption that I am miles away; I pick up his baseball bat from the corner and make my way across. I hit her first, hard and fast, then tear at him, darkness and the element of surprise working to my advantage…. I keep swinging wildly…they scream…hers high pitched and painful…my heart is breaking in a million pieces and some cold part of me stands by and watches from a distance… At long last, I stop…I don’t realize when…minutes seem like hours..the saner side of me takes charge, I switch on the light…the better to see them with…I need to look deceit in the face …their naked bodies lay entwined…she is already dead and his head ……the sight will never leave my memory,  he hasn’t survived either. The initial adrenaline has died and calmness has come upon me in its wake. I look around at the blood spattered walls and my travel clothes……The practical part of me realizes they are ruined… tears overcome me then. I rush to the bathroom and gag…. I cry for a good 15 minutes in loud sharp gasps…. I am amazed the neighbors don’t hear me now or before when … never mind.. I then calm myself, clean up the mess and proceed to call the sheriff…. The rest dear mom, you very well know…

How could she do it to me mom?…She the one I loved and shared everything with…like all my firsts with Danny… every memorable moment in my life was with her in it. How could she betray me…my own blood? I loved her, love her still. The rage was uncontrollable. Yet I knew what I was doing when I took that bat. I, always the cool and composed Sara Cooper…the responsible one…the dull one…the nerdy one…the miss goody two shoes. Oh how the righteous have fallen!

Please forgive me mother. Whatever I did, I regret with supreme sorrow; I loved them both immeasurably. There is now a hole where my heart once was. And I shall never be “me” again… the last couple of days I have mulled committing suicide. My insides are raw and bleeding… I have lost the will to live…but death would be easy….no this is by far the greater punishment. That I should relive everyday what I have done and live with it the rest of my life.

My dear mom, look upon me with compassionate kindness….My hearing is coming up next week and I have sought legal counsel….. I don’t care what happens, no matter the outcome…I have confessed to the world and my mother knows the truth… the rest I shall accept.. The pain of betrayal and the aftermath of guilt is my cross to bear.

With sincere remorse,

Your repentant daughter,

Sara

 

 

          


© 2014 Jenney Clark



My Review

Would you like to review this Story?
Login | Register




Featured Review

I had a feeling --- as I read this narrative of a write..the way you come about the lines...and exposing the events leading to the rage -- and ultimately the double murder...the betrayal of kin and more over the trust factor destroyed...not in just the relationship...but the whole scheme of those involved...and the letter confession puts everything in perspective...as for the embodiment of the story...its written well...in grammar and spelling...seems you have a knack for this line of work...but this is only my first read of yours...Thumbs up with the merit of this write...

Posted 3 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Jenney Clark

3 Years Ago

Thank you Glen . for your encouragement. Coming from you i feel honored for your appreciation
Glen Yumang Manese

3 Years Ago

it's doing what you love and going for it...at the end of the day...you might not be monetarily rich.. read more



Reviews

I find the story well written.
But very interesting in the content.

Your bio says you are from India but tell the story about a sad a fair in a small town in Wyoming.

Is this a true story that you heard about and put your own twist to
Or is it pure fiction?

Either way....
enjoyed the story.

Trace


Posted 3 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Jenney Clark

3 Years Ago

Hello Trace. Yes I am from India and this is pure fiction. I had written two stories for the 2nd edi.. read more
Trace

3 Years Ago

I love Jackson Wyoming. (Jackson hole is actually the name of the ski resort just outside jackson).. read more
Jenney Clark

3 Years Ago

Same here Trace. the pleasure's all mine. Amazing how social media gives you the opportunity to meet.. read more
I had a feeling --- as I read this narrative of a write..the way you come about the lines...and exposing the events leading to the rage -- and ultimately the double murder...the betrayal of kin and more over the trust factor destroyed...not in just the relationship...but the whole scheme of those involved...and the letter confession puts everything in perspective...as for the embodiment of the story...its written well...in grammar and spelling...seems you have a knack for this line of work...but this is only my first read of yours...Thumbs up with the merit of this write...

Posted 3 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Jenney Clark

3 Years Ago

Thank you Glen . for your encouragement. Coming from you i feel honored for your appreciation
Glen Yumang Manese

3 Years Ago

it's doing what you love and going for it...at the end of the day...you might not be monetarily rich.. read more
very nice piece, diction is well written

Posted 3 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


Request Read Request
Add to Library My Library
Subscribe Subscribe


Stats

277 Views
3 Reviews
Rating
Added on July 15, 2014
Last Updated on July 15, 2014
Tags: LOVE, BETRAYAL, CRIME, PASSION

Author

Jenney Clark
Jenney Clark

ROMAN CATHOLIC, India



About
I am an Anglo Indian Writer, Poet and Public Speaker. I gave up a high-powered corporate job in the service industry to pursue my passion for writing. I am deeply spiritual and love the mystical. This.. more..

Writing