Distrust

He felt that the trust had gone out of their relationship.

More and more, he felt that she was hiding something from him. Could it be that she was two-timing on him? He didn’t think so. He had made it very clear that if something like that ever happened, he would kill her. He knew that he could be a little rough with her; he even knocked her around occasionally. Nothing serious, just the odd thump when she deserved it. No, it couldn’t be that. She wouldn’t dare! However, there was something going on. He had noticed that from time to time she’d lock herself in the bathroom. He would hear a muffled one-way conversation going on. It might be quite innocent. She could be planning some surprise for him, or even arranging to buy him a present. He would certainly appreciate that. He had always liked surprises.

If this was the case, two could play at being sneaky. He bought a small, long life recording device. He hid it in the bathroom where she’d never find it. He would retrieve it late at night and fast-wind to see whether he hit any recordings.

It was on the third night that he got a hit.

She was saying, “Relax. He has no idea.” There was a long pause. She went on. “No problem there, he’s so boringly predictable. He eats and drinks the same things for breakfast, every morning. I’ve taken other precautions as well. He may be dead already!” At this point, he heard her chuckle. She went on again. “We have to be careful, though, I’ve spread the stuff all over the place. The bottle you gave me is just about empty. We’ll need to do a major clean up, before I call for an ambulance. Are you quite sure the stuff you gave me will make it look like a heart attack?” After a pause, “Better go. He’ll be back from the pub soon. I’ll be in touch. Bye.”

He couldn’t believe it! He began thinking about what he might have eaten or drunk during the evening. He was pretty sure there had been nothing, but he knew that he couldn’t be too careful. He crept into the bedroom. She always slept like a log. He opened the wardrobe…

When she woke the next morning, she found that he’d taken all his clothes and his personal stuff. Two suitcases were missing.

She picked up her phone. No need to use the bathroom this time.

“Hi, lover. He’s gone. Worked like a charm on the rotten coward that he is. Come round when you’ve packed. Love you.”

15 thoughts on “Distrust”

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