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.”
