Confess To Me, My Love

Confess To Me, My Love

A Story by IzzyFizzy
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A darling story of a devoted woman. Her dear Aaron can do no know wrong. Written May 20, 2013

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I'd like to start at the beginning, but who can say where it really began? Between one breath and another, I fell in love.
I suppose you could call it fate, destiny, some abstract force out of my control. But I'd like to think of it as an accident, something small, just a slight bump in the right direction.
It was winter when I first met Aaron, I think. Cold, I remember, colder than it'd been in a while. And my jacket, ah yes, that jacket, had served as our catalyst. I'd forgotten it, left it at the library. I'd simply lost track of the time, you see, and when I realized I should have been gone twenty minutes ago I rushed out.
It was snowing.
He must have seen me in my short-sleeved blouse, shivering, hair like soot on a clean white shirt. He must have been thinking how stupid a girl could get, walking out in this weather without a coat. And then he must of felt just a twinge of pity, or perhaps had that slight bump, pulling him towards me and I towards him.
“Excuse me, miss, you do seem to be missing something. You'll catch cold if you aren't careful.”
Perhaps if my cheeks hadn't already been so red from the temperature I would have blushed. His voice, his sweet, sweet accent. It was like he jumped out of some old story, Mary Poppins, maybe.
I nodded, that was all I could do. I feared if I opened my mouth my teeth would make such a racket as to scare him off.
“Here, take mine. Part Eskimo, I am. At least, that's what my Pop told me.” He laughed, deep, happy, and enveloped my body with his warmed leather coat. I immediately forgot what I was late for.
Breath in, I was cold, breath out, I was in love.
Don't you see, my Aaron, he cared for even a passing stranger. He wouldn't... he couldn't...
Oh, let me continue, let me prove.
He walked me to my car, and never for a moment was I afraid of him. He was so, so perfect. His smile, his laugh, his eyes. I knew he would never hurt me. So, I scribbled down my number and gave it to him. 'So you can get back your coat', I told him. 'Call me anytime.'
He called the next day, the next morning. The blizzard hadn't stopped and he told me I could keep his jacket, and we talked for a little bit. Finally, he asked if he could see me again, and I eagerly said yes. We planned for a trip to the cafe that very Friday.
You will never understand how slow, how agonizing, that next week was. It was worse than the last week before a student's summer vacation. I called every single one of my old friends- twice!- and cleaned my house just to pass time. I read, and read, and read some more. Three books I finished, all romances, and each one seemed greater than the last, beautiful, spinning tales of love.
But they weren't real enough. Friday came.
Oh, what to wear? How to do my hair? It'd been so long since I've been on a date- yes, that's what it was, a date. I finally chose the only dress I owned, a deep purple brocade with bell sleeves. I carefully twisted that black hair back and smoothed down the fly-away. With some flats and his jacket, I was out. He was there. I got into his car, and the night began.
It was a lovely night, I can assure you. He was a gentleman, from pulling out my chair, to opening the door, to kissing my cheek softly- but no more. I arrived home safety, and warm, and that was it. It was over, and I was happy, and he had even given me a promise to call again soon. That was only the first of many, many dates. Every Friday night turned to every Friday and Sunday, and then even some Saturdays, then every night he and I had off. I got to know him. Aaron, the man whose parents had payed for law school. Aaron, the man who had left first semester and decided to become a writer. Aaron, the man who sought his dreams and made them real. Aaron, the man of possibilities.
And then he made one of my dreams come true. It was last summer, a year and a half since I'd met him, when he got on one knee and presented me with a life full of promise. What could I do? I said yes, of course. We planned for spring, for the birth of a new year.
The problem was, spring didn't come soon enough. Because, you see, I think that's when fate really did decide to intervene. It'd been us before, but then, then she came, that devil, that wench, that-
I'm sorry. She's not a pleasant subject for me to talk about. But it's alright now. See? I'm composed. See? I'm fine. I can go on. Please, let me finish.
Her name, well, you all know her name. Helen, an awful name, I think. A name of curses, a name of hate, and of wars. Helen Baker.
My sister's roommate. They'd met on some site, moved in together. One day, we came over to find her there, not my sister. She quickly informed Aaron and I of my sister and her's agreement and told us Jamie- my sister- would be home soon. So we sat.
I noticed her eyes on Aaron instantly. Like leeches, I tell you. He was polite enough to give her a few quick smiles, but nothing else! My fiance would never think of doing anything with another woman. He was simply using manners and that was it.
My sister finally came, we had a quick visit, and then we left. I thought I'd seen the last of Helen, but no. When my sister came over to my- and by now, our- house, Helen would tag along. I could tell what she was doing. But Aaron, my Aaron, would have nothing to do with this woman, I tell you! He hardly gave her any glance, any bit of attention. Sure, he'd say hello, he'd smile, but this was all just him being polite, doing the necessary. Am I wrong? Am I wrong?
You think my Aaron killed her. You see, he couldn't have. He hardly knew she existed. He's innocent. Ha, he wouldn't be smart enough to kill her anyway. I'm sorry, honey, it's true. You've never been the brightest, but I do love you all the same. You just... no.
He doesn't have the motive, the passion, the force you need to pull the trigger, that drive, that ceaseless voice in your head telling you, begging you on its knees to-
I'm sorry. I almost lost myself again. I'm fine.
Now, let me explain further. I promise, my tale is almost won. You will soon see how he could never kill Miss Helen Baker.
The night of December 8th, this near one, was normal. Now, the day had not been normal at all, but I'll get to that. You see, Aaron couldn't have shot that girl because he wasn't there. I can testify to that. He was in our bed. He was asleep. I made sure of that. Just a little extra dose of something special in his tea made sure he had a very nice long slumber.
Why do you look at me like that? Trust me, I'm doing something good here. I had a reason, and now you blame him, my innocent Aaron. You are so wrong, he was asleep, he couldn't do it!
But why did I drug him, you ask? Because I couldn't let him leave. That day, December 8th, oh, that black day. Two years since I'd met him, that same day. It was even snowing, very softly. Peacefully. It was happy.
He had to work. Go to his new job, something to do with typewriters. Yes, typewriters, it was. My sweet Aaron, always doing the most fantastic, amazing things. Things only people in stories do. It was only expected he forget our two year mark. I forgave him, in fact, I went and bought him a new watch. I found the address he had gone to, scribbled down on our calendar. I was so clever, you wouldn't believe it, how I stalked the streets like a cat, prowled, searched for that address he had gone to.
I found it.
A  house, just a normal house. No antique shop, warehouse, building stocked with cubicles. A house.
I got out of the car. I had the box with the watch in it. It was a watch made by Felix Baumgartner, have you heard of him? Oh, his watches are magnificent, and now my Aaron would have one.
I looked in the window.
It was a beautiful watch, with little circles with other numbers only my Aaron could ever understand; it looked like it'd been made in the future. A pretty little piece.
I saw her.
A perfect fit for his wrist. For my Aaron.
She was kissing him. She was kissing him.
Time stopped.
You see, he went there under the pretense of getting, of buying, some old typewriter. She tricked him! That witch tricked my fiance to his house and then accosted him! I couldn't take it, I ran, I dropped the watch, it was too much to bear. My poor, poor Aaron, I left him there, you see, I left him there with her to be by himself. Oh, how could I... I abandoned him when he needed me, me, selfish me.
Give me just a moment to compose myself. My confession- oh, dreadful ears, dreadful mouth, dreadful hands- I'm not done.
I drove home.
Two hours passed. He arrived.
He acted as if nothing had happened. So did I. I had no watch to give him but he had plenty of love to give me. I left him there and he still loved me.
You see, he is too, too kind. He could never hurt a soul.
He would never hurt a soul.
My Aaron has always been the lightest sleeper, so I had to make sure he wouldn't wake up until the late hours of the morning. I'm sorry, dear, it was too easy. Your nighttime tea is one thing I can always rely on.
I drove.
The house was easy to find this time. This time, I was no domestic cat, no, I was a lion, a tiger, burning to find that woman.
Aaron never had any clue that I always kept a loaded gun under the driver's seat in the truck. Again, I'm sorry, darling, that I lied. I couldn't help it. I love you, but it was too easy.
I think you all know what happened now, why my Aaron is so innocent, but let me finish my story, you can owe only that to me for everything I've done.
She never expected a thing, ugly Helen, in her flimsy little night gown, hair up in curlers, sweet smile on her lips. She never expected a thing.
No pain, I assure you, her family, that your sweet daughter never suffered. I gave her a death she didn't deserve. Asleep. I'm not a cruel woman, just a fair one. I didn't try to hide her body, I never imagined you'd think it was my Aaron.
But then you found that false proof. His hair, his 'DNA', so you said. No. He was never there, that night. But his coat, that same leather coat he gave me. The one he still loved to wrap around my shoulders, bundle me in, keep me warm with his love.
That was.

© 2013 IzzyFizzy


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Chilling. I could feel this woman descent into some sort of maelstrom...

Posted 10 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


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Added on May 21, 2013
Last Updated on May 21, 2013
Tags: love, judge, court, confess, confession, truth, mystery, suspense, insane, insanity, lover, false, misunderstand, crazy

Author

IzzyFizzy
IzzyFizzy

About
Izzy here. I'm an eccentric redhead with a passion for turtles and writing. I'm just a bit nerdy and just a little insane (the best people are!). I'll get along with just about anyone and if you need .. more..

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A Story by IzzyFizzy