"Stop standing around, make yourself useful, cut the lawn or something" She yells. I see the glint of the shiny carving knife before me.
"Yes honey" i reply in the most innocent voice i can. The rage is building up inside me like a vast torrent. She turns around to glare at me and that's when i do it. I plunge the knife deep into her heart, hearing that last desperate scream as i plunge it back in. She falls to the ground, blood streaming from her wound. I should feel some remorse but i don't ,only satisfaction. I sit beside her, blonde silky hair fanned out across the white kitchen floor tiles, like an angel. She is, was, so beautiful. I wonder if i will miss her but i really can't say, not at the moment.
What will i do with the body? Nobody must find out, not that anyone would expect me, the cheif executive of a big software company who to the world is so happy, to murder their own wife. I busy about wrapping the body in a black bin sack ready to dump it at the tip when it gets dark. Cleaning the floor is tough, however hard i clean there still seems to be more blood.
A rumbling comes from my stomcah... What am i going to do? Rosalie was the one who did the cooking.
I know the grammar in this is terrible, but i don't have a beta reader. If anyone would like to beta for me my email is madmeowth