Tragic Anger

She should have expected this outcome.

Marisa looks out of the window of her small studio apartment as she waits for her husband, Patrick, to return home from work. As she looked on for what felt like hours, she couldn’t help but notice the large amount of heavy traffic below. “I guess I can’t really blame him.” She thought while staring at the gridlock of cars below, “How is anyone supposed to get home!” It was past 6pm and she was growing impatient as she held her stomach, feeling the baby kick once more as if sharing her same frustration.

She looked on with worry, hoping that her husband would find a way to get through the congestion, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of anger while looking out the window. The lights were set to an orange atmosphere which would be perfect compared to the heavy snowfall outside fusing with the heavy blaring of car horns. White Plains, New York would normally be a quiet town, but it was in the middle of December, just a week before Christmas, so last-minute shoppers flooded the streets, making it impossible for anyone to get by. Traffic was backed up for miles as people rushed to complete their shopping.

Looking away from the scene of flooded cars, Mary turns her head and looks around the room, processing every object in her line of sight. She had hoped for a comfortable home. Just a bookshelf separating the bed and living room that is filled with books ranging from mystery to textbooks, and thrillers to history. Some of them were covered in dust as they had not been opened in years. Others were classics, while the recent releases had been opened many times due to the worn pages. A useful room divider that allowed the space to be an open plan living and dining area while supplying them privacy. Beyond the shelf was a standard king’s bed with a knitted blanket and cushions. Next to the bed was a nightstand that held her current true crime novel.

Mary can admit that she and Pat have something in common, and that was their love of escaping from this world and entering a new one through their favorite book. Unfortunately, the one thing they can’t seem to agree on was keeping a decluttered home. Mary rolled her eyes as she looked at the useless antiques Pat would buy, gathered up on almost every surface in the house. She took pride in wanting her home to be clean and organized as it offered her a sense of clarity after returning home from writing fairs. Whether it was a neatly made bed or a spotless floor, the results brought her peace of mind. A welcoming home served as the perfect backdrop for relaxing evenings spent diving into her favorite works of literature away from the cold climate outside.

She snaps out of her daydreaming as she hears the front door unlock. She turned to see Pat and stood up to greet him. She couldn’t help but feel the atmosphere grow heavy as he entered. Watching his expression as he didn’t even bother to look at Mary and instead stared at the floor, a mixture of frustration and disappointment etched on his face.

“Hey sweetie! I was worried that you turned into a snowman out there!” Mary exclaimed, trying to lessen the tense air.

Pat sighs. “Well Mary, it’s not always easy coming home from work since I would have to leave the house.”

Mary frowned, glaring at Pat for his sudden rude remark. “And what the hell is that supposed to mean, Patrick?”

Mary’s anger was reaching a boiling point as he walked passed her, throwing his coat on top of the dining chair before sitting down. “Listen Mary, we have to talk about your lack of interest in finding a job.” He says as he leans back into the chair in a relaxed posture. Mary scoffs at him, she wanted to pretend that his attitude was imaginary as she storms over to him and slams her hands on the table, startling him.

“I beg your pardon. I’ll have you know that I worked very hard on my blog.” She shouted. “It’s not my fault that the thought of death scares you so much.” She smirks, looking at his eyes widened by the sudden accusation.

“Scared? That’s not the point, Mary.” He yells back, jumping from his seat “Being some true crime blogger is not a real job.” He points his index finger, poking her forehead like she was a child being scolded. “What kind of stability do you hope to expect out of that?” He chuckles as he keeps poking her forehead. “What you should be doing is finding yourself an actual job.”

“You wanna talk about stability, ain’t you the same one that can’t hold a job without pissin’ everybody off?” She yells, slapping his hand out of her face. “This type of shit doesn’t just hand me success overnight. Unlike you, I don’t have things handed to me and then waste that opportunity like a spoiled brat.” She says.

The room fell into a heavy silence as Mary waited for a rebuttal from him. She felt a mixture of sadness and anger welling up inside her as she clenched her jaw. For six months, she had hoped for this pregnancy to be filled with shared joy and anticipation with her husband, but instead, their relationship had become strained with him being increasingly distant and cold to her. She sighs, trying to calm herself down. “Y’know, Pat. Yeah, we do need to talk.”

He rolls his eyes, “Forget it Mary, this can wait until tomorrow.”

“No…it can’t. Now sit down.” She demanded. Pat glared at her as he reluctantly sat down. “Y’know, I’ve noticed that you’ve been avoiding me ever since I told you about the pregnancy. We used to talk about our future, our love for novels, our dreams. But now, you act like I don’t even exist.” She says.

Pat groans, “It’s not that, Mary. It’s just…We are having a difficult time keeping money in the house. It would be a lot easier if you would just get over this dream of yours and actually find yourself a job.” He explains.

Mary’s eyes narrowed. “And whose fault is that exactly? You don’t get to complain about money, Pat.” She points at the various antiques on top of the bookcase. “If I recall, you’ve been the one eating up most of the budget.” She shouts. “And may I remind ya, it’s not like this is your first job. You tell me how you keep losing your other jobs because,” She holds her hands up, forming quotation marks. “No one wants to work.” She continues, “But really, you only lose them because your controlling attitude and your inflated ego causes people to complain about you.” She explains. “How the hell do you expect to keep a job if you keep treating everybody like trash?” She asked.

“You don’t understand the pressure I’m under as a store manager.” He shouted back, his face flushed with anger. “In case you haven’t noticed, It’s relentless out in the job world. If I don’t assert myself, I’ll get trampled over.”

Mary rolled her eyes. "Asserting yourself is one thing, Pat, but ridiculing and disrespecting others is different.” She walks past him to turn off the stove. “You can't expect people to respect you, if you don't show them basic decency."

Pat clenched his jaw. "You think you know everything, don't you.” He grabbed her shoulder and turned her around to face him. “You and your idiotic dreams, maybe if you contributed to the house instead of chasing after fantasies, we wouldn't be in this mess!"

"I'll let you know that my blog is my passion. I work hard on it, and it will pay off someday. But that doesn't excuse your behavior, Pat.” She pushes his hands off her shoulders. “We're a team, we’re supposed to support each other. But all I've seen from you is arrogance and entitlement."

The room fell silent once more, the weight of their words hanging in the air. Mary sighed, deflating as she realized that it was pointless to argue with him. “Forget it. I’m not goin’ to keep talkin’ to a brick wall. You can make your own dinner.” She walks away from him, trying to leave the room. Pat grabs her arm roughly, his grip tightening like a vise. "You can't just walk away from me, Mary." He spat back, his face contorted with rage. In a moment of panic, Mary pushed him away, trying to break free. Pat stumbles backward losing his balance and lands his head against the edge of the bookcase with a sickening thud.

A chilling silence settled over the room as Pat slumped to the floor, clutching his head in agony. Blood oozed from the wound and staining the carpet. Mary gasped, realizing the gravity of what had just occurred. The seconds that followed Pat's fall felt like an eternity. Mary's mind raced, her heart pounding in her chest as she surveyed the scene before her. The room, once a battlefield of words, was now a crime scene.

“O-oh god, what have I done?” She whispered, covering her mouth, and holding back her tears that were threatening to fall. “No…this wasn’t my fault…he started all this.” She thought. Mary's mind continues to race as she realizes that she has to find a way out of this nightmare.

Drawing on her knowledge of true crime stories, she quickly sprang into action, “I can’t keep standin’ here like this…what if the neighbors heard all that and called the police?” She thought. Her hands trembling as she carefully rearranged the scene to create the appearance of a tragic accident. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she straightened the rug, making sure it was slightly folded, just enough to suggest a trip.

She rushed to the kitchen, her hands shaking as she grabbed a handful of paper towels. Returning to Pat, she pressed the towels against his injured head, desperately trying to stop the bleeding. Her mind buzzed with conflicting emotions as she pulled out her phone to dial 911 and explained to the operator what had just happened as they instructed her to stay by his side until the paramedics arrived.

While waiting, a nagging feeling was telling her to glance over at a dusty leather-bound journal that landed with Pat. Her heart raced as she scanned the book that was inches away from her unconscious husband. Its worn pages beckoned Mary as her curiosity seized her. As she reached for the journal, a wave of apprehension washed over her as she spotted Pat’s name in crude writing on the front of the cover.

As she flipped through the pages, the inked confessions painted a vivid picture of Pat’s struggles, desires, and the unraveling of their once-shared love of books. Her eyes widened when she stumbled upon an entry that sent shockwaves through her soul. The stark and unapologetic truth revealed a hidden motive that explained the abrupt end to their marriage. He lied to her.

In detail, Pat described that one of his collections, an antique pocket watch that he had kept in the nightstand drawer. In the journal, Pat had discovered the watch's exorbitant value and couldn't bear the thought of squandering it on the responsibilities of family life. The impending arrival of a child only intensified the conflict within him. The allure of riches and luxury had lured him away from Mary and their unborn child.

Mary sat in stunned silence, the revelation crashing over her like a relentless tide. The apartment, once filled with shared laughter and whispered promises, now echoed with the bitter taste of betrayal. The pocket watch, a silent witness to their love story, had become a symbol of shattered dreams and broken promises.

She was brought back from her thoughts as the sound of wailing sirens grew louder, causing Mary's heart to race once more. Panic gripped her as she wondered if one of the neighbors somehow heard the commotion earlier and called the police. The fear of legal consequences paralyzed her for a moment, but as the footsteps approached, she braced herself for the inevitable. She hears the knock at the door and the police announcing their arrival. She opens the door seeing the two stern-faced men dressed in police uniforms. Mary’s swallowed the lump in her throat. “Hello officers, Is there a problem?”

The taller officer exchanged a knowing glance at his partner and introduced himself and his colleague. “Good evening, I’m Detective Jack Miller and this is my partner, Officer Charlie Rivers.”

The shorter officer smiled at her, almost in a pitiful manner. “Sorry to disturb you ma’am. But, we’re here regarding your husband, Patrick Malone.” Office Rivers said.

Mary's confusion deepened. "Pat? What happened?"

Detective Miller took a deep breath before explaining, "We've been monitoring his online activities, and it seems he's been involved in some dangerous business on the dark web. Specifically, he's been searching for someone to... well, to hire a hitman." Mary's eyes widened in shock and disbelief. The room seemed to spin as the gravity of the situation sank in. The detective continued, "We intercepted communications that indicated he was planning harm against you. We take these matters very seriously, and we're here to ensure your safety."

As the weight of the revelation settled on Mary, a mix of fear, anger, and betrayal churned within her as she explained what had happened earlier. The police assured Mary of their commitment to her safety, supplying details about protective measures they would put in place. They urged her to cooperate fully, emphasizing the gravity of the situation.

The paramedics arrived and carried Pat off, and the officers left, Mary was left alone in the dimly lit apartment, grappling with the unsettling truth. The man who had once promised to love and protect her had become a shadowy figure, entangled in a web of darkness that she could scarcely understand.