Monsters Inside Me

By Tabitha Hawk

An anthology of thrillers to keep you guessing...Morgan Bristol is a successful attorney that is very adept at getting his guilty clients off. But his home life is a stark difference to his in court successes. He's finally had enough with his wife and decides to kill her. He tries to cover up her murder by his plan is discovered by his Mexican housekeeper who has had a crush on him from the start. Seeing an opportunity, the young maid blackmails her way into his home. The two then begin a cat and mouse game with survival as the only goal.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trellis Publishing
• Release date: Jun 22, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201955007

Book preview

Monsters Inside Me

TABITHA HAWK

TABLE OF CONTENTS

MONSTERS INSIDE ME

TWO KILLERS AND A HOOKER

KISS THE SUN

THE DARK SHIFT

CUT AND RUN

Murder.

Scientists say under the right conditions everyone is capable of it. The human condition is put to the test every day by simply going to work. Long term employees feel jilted by their employer when the new guy is given the job they’ve tried so hard to obtain. A spouse who feels like they’ve been done wrong in a divorce settlement might feel angry and desire hurt on the other person.

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The scene changes to a courtroom where I, District Attorney Morgan Bristol, am giving my closing arguments in regards to a man who killed his ex-wife following a rather dirty divorce. I can feel the passion in my words. The need to put a murderer behind bars as I think about the agony the woman he killed must have gone through. Therein lies my own darkness.

At what point, under such immense pressure, does debating on taking the life of another person enter into the equation? At what point, do we stop blaming heightened states of emotion and start making the individual take responsibility for their actions?

The words feel so unnatural. I’ve said them many times.

You are here today, not to judge on whether or not the defendant was doing the right thing when they shot and killed their spouse, but to render a verdict based on the very nature of the crime itself!

I stop my tangent to point a condemning finger at the defendant charged with the brutal murder of his ex-wife.

The point is, this murderer lost the chance to decide when he took out a kitchen knife and stabbed his ex to death, thus ending her life. They divorced by the rules. Decided on decree terms and yet here he sits. Why? Because he was angry! He killed her because he was angry! Judge him on it! Make him accountable!

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It wouldn't take long for the jury to return with a verdict of guilty. I am used to it at this point. This is my life. Putting those responsible for harming others in prison, yet the feeling of guilt wracked my very soul.

I swore to uphold the law. I had done so for years. Yet in my mind I debate on committing the very same heinous act.

The sickening part of it all; though I know the consequences. Seen them. I know I will lose everything I've worked years to obtain. I don't care. The decision was made.

I will murder my own wife.

****

My life  wasn’t always this way. We had a good life, my wife and I . I became a successful attorney at a young age with a high rate of guilty verdicts and rarely lost a case.

Eventually, I was given the position of Assistant District Attorney under one of the most prominent DAs in the county. From him, I learned all of what was needed to become the District Attorney upon his retirement.

I guess it was the long work hours, the nights I didn’t come home or maybe because we hadn’t yet had children of our own because I focused more on my career and making sure the bitch had the perfect life of her own. I'm not sure.

She began to condemn me. She would call me during the hours I was working on cases and threaten to divorce me if I didn’t get home at a certain or give her the money she needed to get her hair or nails done. She would text me again and again with demeaning words and threats to ruin me.

The immense pressure led to my having an affair with one of the clerks in my office. At the time, every nerve ending in my head screamed for me to stop; that what I was doing was wrong.

Despite that, the pain I experienced in my mind prodded me to go further.

It made me forget what the judgmental, vindictive bitch would say when I got home.

That was amazing, The clerk said as she buttoned her blouse back up. Her tongue running over her ruby lips in a deep, seductive manner. You sure your wife won’t mind?

Tch, figures. I thought in my mind. All of them are the same. They only want something from a man; then kick them while they're at their lowest with underlying threats.

I hated how I was feeling.

I couldn’t understand why I was feeling it but there it was. The only escape I had was going to the bar at night and getting drunk while complaining to the patrons for hours until last call pushed us out.

I would go home later that night. The cycle would repeat again.

****

The familiar door opens with a creak until it hits the wall now marred by a hole where I’d kicked it in multiple times. My briefcase, I let drop to the ground in the foyer and take my jacket off to hang in the coat closet.

The memory of the clerk's eyes burns in my head.

It’s about time you showed your face. What’s your excuse this time? My wife Sandra Bristol sits at the table in the kitchen. A white coffee mug gripped in her hands, her eyes half closed with an air of annoyance.

Don’t really care to tell you and I doubt you really care to listen. I spit back at her to meet her poisoned words with my own.

She chuckles. True, but it helps to know in case I need to kick your ass in divorce court.

I grit my teeth. A slight hiss escapes through them.

The cold witch offers the not-so-subtle hint of a threat mixed with blackmail.

My knuckles clench as I rest them on the marble counter.

The feeling of rage I remembered seeing in the very eyes of the killer I helped put in prison burns within me.

The desire to go through with the plot nagging the back of my mind grew stronger with each word she spouts from her poisoned mouth.

Is this a game with you? I dare to confront her. Do you delight in torturing me?

Please, don’t think too highly of yourself. You stopped caring about this marriage years ago. I only want to make sure I get my fair share when I decide to drag you into court, She gets up and walks over to me. Hope she was worth it.

Something inside me snaps. I grip her by her wrists only to receive a hard slap to the face before she turns and walks away.

Her high heels click against the hard wooden floor. Her platinum blonde hair bounces behind her.

I couldn’t help but glare at her back, wishing somehow she would drop dead so I wouldn’t have to defile everything I’d once believed in.

****

At what point did you decide that killing your husband was more of an ideal ending than pursuing a divorce? I question the woman put on trial who claims her abusive husband would never let her leave.

I was afraid he would kill me. Even if we did divorce, I wouldn’t have gotten anything because he made me sign a prenup agreement. I needed to get me and the children out of there. I didn’t feel like there was any other way! The woman begins crying.

I can't help but feel for her. I know what it's like to be trapped by a marriage agreement.

Instead of doing what I would usually do, I take both she and her attorney into my office and offer a plea bargain which she accepts, thanking me for considering her plight in sentencing.

Once they leave, I sit in my office. My mind swirls with each option I could go through in order to kill my wife and the possible consequences of my actions.

Suddenly, as if struck with an epiphany, I know what I will do and where I can go to get it.

****

Evening, Mr. Bristol, you’re home early. Alaina Sanchez, our housekeeper greets me with the signature bright smile she always wears. Did you put away many bad men today? She asks, shooting me a coy wink.

I smile at her, almost chuckling.

Alaina always had a way of bringing a smile to my face. Her perfect hourglass body and voluminous breasts had a way of capturing my deepest fantasies.

Often, I thought of bedding her just to make my wife angry but decided against it out of loyalty for family and vows.

Something like that, yes. Thank you, Alaina, I sit down my briefcase and close the door to the coat closet upon the removal of my jacket. Listen, you may leave early tonight. I want to try and fix things with the misses.

I put on a coy smile in an attempt to keep a lightened demeanor to avoid raising suspicion to my true motives.

Thank you, Mr. Bristol. I’ll wrap things up here and then head on out. Alaina smiles and returns to her work.

Once I am alone, I begin to prepare dinner. My wife hasn’t gotten home yet so I have time to plan on how I was going to administer the murder weapon and discard the body where no one will find it.

At 7pm on the hour, the bitch walks through the front door and sets her overpriced coat onto one of the hangers in the closet. She soon joins me in the kitchen.

What’s all this for? She scoffs at me, rolling her eyes. Do you actually think you have a chance to save whatever this is? Her finger points between the two of us.

I fake a smile as I sit a plate of her favorite pasta on the oak table we bought for our seventh anniversary. Maybe I just wanted to enjoy a night where neither of us fought and just tried to have a decent dinner.

My wife rolls her eyes as I pour us both a cup of white wine to go with the chicken Alfredo I served.

Into her cup, I deliver the poison.

Her death wouldn’t be merciful. She would suffer a slowly and agonizingly so I will be able to tell her everything I’d held back in the 15 year hell she put me in.

I set the poisoned apple in front of her and sit down in front of my own plate to begin eating.

The feeling of guilt I’d been experiencing melts away the more I allow myself to watch the woman eat in silence.

Finally the time came.

I watch as she takes the cup and lifts it to her mouth.

I can’t help the emotion now plaguing me as I watch her lick the remnants of liquid from her plump, strawberry lips.

Sadness. That’s what it is. Sadness.

I’d once loved this woman with everything I had. I gave her my mind, heart, body and soul.

From this sadness, I allow a conversation to bloom.

Where did we go wrong, Sandra? I ask her, knowing the poison is working its way through her veins even as I spoke.

As was her nature, the heartless bitch replies in a mocking tone. When you decided to become more worthless than my mom always told me you were. You chose to spend more time at that office profiling murderers, rapists and perverts instead of nurturing our marriage.

A cold smile curls across my lips as she begins to choke. The fork full of pasta drops to the plate as she reaches up to hold her throat. What? What did you do?