Photos by Beth
She closed the book, placed it on the table, and finally, decided to walk through the door.
Page one. There was a lovely picture of Amanda… Beth had slit her pretty little throat after she had caught Greg on the phone with her, six months into their marriage.
Page eight. Beautiful Claire with the beautiful blue eyes – gouged out after Beth had caught them parked at Lookout Point, seven times after he said he would “never do it again”. Beth wasn’t completely certain what had actually been her demise. She would never know if it was the overbearing pain or the loss of blood. The photo barely did the scene justice.
Page thirteen. Lucky Lucy had been stabbed thirteen times when Beth had found the emails between her and her husband. Beth had taken Lucy in the nude. Apparently it was how she liked to be photographed, and Beth was nothing short of accommodating.
Page twenty-two. Who knew that Abigail’s long red hair would hide the blood so well? Beth had bashed her head in with a baseball bat after she had found them banging it out at the Holiday Inn.
Perhaps fifteen years of believing the lies was beginning to be a bit too long.
Page twenty-eight. Beth had found Rosalina with Greg in the sauna room at their cabin. They had been so into each other that neither of them had barely registered a surprised sound when the needles simultaneously pierced their skin.
Within seconds neither of them were able to move, but were very much aware of what was going on.
Leaving Rosalina in the sauna room had been a no brainer. Beth had particularly loved the way her eyes had bulged as the room temperature reached 200 degrees. It made for a very interesting photo.
Page twenty-nine. Those who knew Greg best knew how much he enjoyed his vodka and a good cigar.
It had taken Beth a little while, but he was now comfortably entrenched in his favorite chair. Bottle of vodka in one hand. The lit cigar in the other.
His eyes pleaded with her to not walk away. The begging pierced the room, even though he was unable to utter a word. One could imagine he was telling her how he would never do it again. Truly – THIS was the last time.
The decision to leave the book had taken her several moments. She had contemplated the hours spent tracking them down, the satisfaction she had felt each time she had taped another photo into place, the comfort in knowing it was over… again and for awhile. In the end, she decided that it too should die. As horribly as the twenty years of memories that it contained.
She knew she had an hour to get back to their home…an hour to safely seal her alibi. Her footsteps quickened, and the door quietly latched behind her. It took fifteen minutes just to get down the mountain, but she heard the explosion very soon after her front tires rolled out onto the paved road.
Turning the car towards home, she was amazed at how time seemed to stand still. How quickly the car flew. It what seemed like mere minutes, she pulled into the driveway.
She could hear the phone ringing as she turned the key in the door.