***
I sped down the highway with tears in my eyes. How could I be so dumb? How could I not see this?
I got to his place so fast I didn’t even remember parking the car. I was suddenly at the door pounding on it, demanding my answers. Justin answered the door with an unworthy innocent look on his face. I wasn’t going for it. I shoved the printed photo in his face.
“What is this!” I screamed at him. He was bewildered by the sneak attack.
“What are you talking about, Kate? Calm down!” he commanded.
“Look at the photo! Tell me that isn’t you!” I yelled back.
He took the paper from my hands and inspected it. His eyes pierced through each pixel. He was caught red handed, but he wasn’t going to go down that easy.
“Kate, where did you get this from?” he asked sternly.
“Don’t ask me where I got it from!” I screamed. “Tell me what it is!”
“I’m getting to that. Where did you get this? What are you doing snooping around my friends’ Facebook accounts!” he retorted.
I mushed him in the face. “What is this!”
He stepped back from the doorway and took a moment to process what was happening. I tried to catch my breath as I waited to hear his explanation.
“Kate. Just leave it alone.” he said. What? This was his explanation?
“Leave it alone?” I questioned. “Leave what alone? Tell me what’s going on!” My blood boiled as he got quieter and quieter. That’s when I totally blacked.
“Who is Sandra? Who in the hell is Sandra!” I snapped as I rushed him. I slapped him in the face repeatedly as he said nothing. My soul burned as I beat my pain into his face. I didn’t care anymore. Nothing mattered except inflicting as much pain as humanly possible.
WHACK!
My head snapped back as he retaliated with aggression. That blank look overtook his face. My heart stopped. He knocked me to the floor with a haymaker and kept coming. He grabbed me. I kicked, clawed and scratched to break free as we exchanged blows. I was again terribly overmatched. The familiar taste of my own blood filled my mouth.
He said nothing as he viciously attacked me. I ran through the kitchen, looking for a butcher knife. Nothing. That’s when I suddenly remembered that I brought my pistol with me just in case this exact scenario went down. I reached for my back pocket and there it was. I pulled the Beretta and aimed it at his chest.
“Not another move,” I said. “This is where this ends.”
He kept coming and coming. I had to pull the trigger.
BANG!
Justin was no more.