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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2065948-Wake-up-dead
Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Death · #2065948
John's wife is unappreciative of his infidelity after her P.I. sends her proof of his deed
Wake up dead


         The front door was locked. It had been a late night and John had forgotten his keys at the office. Jill, his secretary told him not to worry about them and that she'd give him a ride home. Did she ever, John thought, trying to get her young supple bare breasts bouncing up and down out of his head. She rode him twice tonight and finished him off with her mouth just moments ago in the parking lot around the corner. His wife Diana had been suspicious of his late "work" nights recently and John was quite tipsy from the shots he and Jill had thrown back at the bar and needed to focus now. How was he going to sneak in? John remembered the busted lock on the living room window. It was the furthest room from the bedroom and would be perfect to try and sneak in without making an excessive amount of noise. John rounded the corner of the house and approached the window easily sliding it up and slipping in. He commended himself for how quiet he had been during his entry. He crept into the bedroom to find Diana laying there completely still with her eyes wide open, unmoving, staring back at him. Oh No! he'd been caught. Wait. Not yet. I need to play this off. He immediately turned and walked to his side of the bed, unbuttoning his shirt. He noticed a lipstick stain on his sleeve. Could this get any worse he thought. He slid his shirt to the floor and pushed it under the bed in ever so slight a manner with his left foot. There was a glass of water on the night stand on his side and he felt a tickle in his throat. He reached for it and took a long deep swallow eradicating the tickle. He sat on the bed waiting to catch holy hell from Diana but nothing came. Was she gonna lay here silent tonight, collect all her thoughts and give him the third degree in the morning? What a bitch. He looked at the red gleaming numbers on their digital clock. 3:04. He unbuckled his pants and let them fall to the floor. He reached for the water again and finished it off returning the empty glass to the night stand ever so quietly. He got in under the covers and rolled slowly over towards Diana noticing a slight glow from under the covers as he adjusted the sheets. What the hell was that? He reached slowly and felt the object, aha, it was just Diana's cell phone. As he brought it up closer to his chest he noticed the phone was displaying a picture of him and Jill with their lips locked together from earlier tonight at the Drunken Lamb. His eyes widened in alarm and he quickly glanced over at Diana. She was completely stiff and unmoving, her eyes still wide open as they were when he entered the room staring at the doorway. "Diana" he whispered. Nothing. "Diana" this time louder as he nudged her. She was completely stiff. He shook her. Nothing. No response whatsoever. He noticed on her night stand some empty tinfoil wrappers and some powder and an empty glass next to a folded piece of paper. He hopped out of bed realizing the seriousness of the situation. He flipped the light switch on and grabbed the folded piece of paper. Opening it to read the writing inside.

Dear John.
I don't know where I went wrong. You were my one and only in this world. Hopefully we can be together again in the next. I have added Tetradihethylzine to the water. It's a chemical that will lead to a quick, painless death, numbing you completely and rendering you into a paralytic state before completely shutting down all your organs. I will try and wait up for you. If not, I hope to see you soon. Just drink the water on your nightstand and we can both wake up together again.

Love,

Diana

John fell onto the bed, his legs giving out on him. They were so rubbery. He tried to roll over but couldn't budge. His eyeballs were barely cooperating, his pupils shifting ever so slowly up towards Diane's. Eventually locking on to her empty stare. Where they remained.

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