A Fair Trade

I originally wrote this for a weekly competition. 

A Fair Trade

By Lisa McCourt Hollar

“That didn’t take long…” George’s voice trailed off as I slipped off my coat.

Blood soaked my white blouse, the crimson spreading like a flower in violent bloom. I let the coat fall. My knees gave way. He caught me before I hit the floor.

“My God,” he whispered, easing me onto the couch. “What happened?”

“I killed her.”

“Killed who?” His hands hovered over me, searching for a wound. “Were you in a car accident?”

“No.”

“Then what happened? You said you were going to the store.”

“I lied. I went to see Sheila.”

“Tom’s wife? Why?”

“She called. She told me about the two of you.”

His face changed, just slightly. Enough.

“Linda, I would never.”

“She was pregnant.”

The color drained from him.

“Oh,” I said softly. “You didn’t know? She was going to leave Tom. She said you would leave me too.”

“That’s insane.”

“I told her you wouldn’t. I told her about the pre-nup you signed.” I held his gaze. “And then I realized something. The brakes. The gas leak. The broken basement step.”

I leaned forward. “They were not accidents.”

“You’ve lost your mind.”

“Maybe.”

I picked up my coat and reached into the pocket. The knife slid free, still wet and dark.

“But I think it’s a fair trade,” I said, lunging toward him, “for your life.”