Misery loves Murder

There's always that point in someone's life when they experience something magical, or at least they want to. I had the very same thought after my husband's death. I felt as if I was in a bottle-less pit of darkness, unsure of the future and neither was I interested in it. But one day the magical thing did happen. In the form of a few words they came to me. They said, “Do you know what a man in the deepest darkest depths of misery wants?” At that time I had no idea that the next few words spoken by that stranger would change my life so drastically. “The answer is simple,” he said. I looked up to him. His eyes were an invitation to a whole new life. “To know that he isn't in the deepest darkest depths of misery, that there's someone suffering much more than him” the man wore glasses and his eyes were shielded but there was something that I couldn't miss. His eyes were dead and yet he was much less miserable than me. "Why are you telling me this?" I asked. "Cause honey, misery loves company.” That was the first and last time I ever saw or heard from him. I often went to the same park and sat on the same bench in hopes of perhaps meeting him again but every day I walked home empty until finally I understood what he meant by those few words. It started on the night of June twenty third nineteen ninety three, I had just pushed in my apartment key when I heard someone call my name followed by the ear piercing sound of footsteps jogging up the rusty stairs. "Anna, wait!" she yelled. It was my neighbor, Emma. She was a good friend of mine. When she finally reached the end of the stairs she started panting her back arched and her hands rested on her knees. "You didn't have to run like that." I said, pushing in the door to my apartment. She instantly straightened up, she had a worried look as if she had seen a ghost but what was more concerning was her sundress now transparent form her sweat. "You okay?" I asked. It took a few more minutes but she finally calmed down. She then grabbed her apartment keys out of her purse and handed them to me. "I have to go to my sister, she's in labor." she explained, still worried she clamped my hand holding the key. "Just give the keys to Arthur when he returns from work." "Who's Arthur?" I asked, for some reason that question surprised her, the way she withdrew her hand was enough evidence of it. "Oh sorry, My husband is Arthur." she told me pointing a finger in my direction as if teaching a kid to learn something. "You know him, Anna. He helped you with the lights just yesterday." as she said that I remembered a face not certain who it was but that must've been her husband. "He lost the spare key a few days ago, so can you please hand it to him." her feet started jogging on spot again and she was obviously trying to rush. "What if I can't recognize him?" I asked, clutching onto the keys. "I've phoned him, he will knock on your door first and you also have a picture of all three of us in the kitchen." she explained but quite honestly I wasn't the best person to handle such a task too. Ever since my husband's death I've started forgetting names and faces of people, somehow it didn't affect me but to people like her it felt somewhat cruel. What if I forget her someday too? "Okay I'll hand him the keys, you should hurry to your sister." I said as I moved into my apartment. She might've thought I was being rude but if I had just stayed in the hallway it probably would've wasted more time anyways. I laid down the keys on the kitchen table before rummaging through the fridge to find something to eat, most of the stuff was way past it's expiration date and the vegetables were polluting the environment there. All I could find was half a loaf of bread and some unsalted butter. I simply spread the butter on the pieces of bread and toasted it. That was my dinner and although I couldn't remember, I felt as if I've had it for dinner a lot lately. I turned on the TV and ate through the pieces of bread. I watched the weather forecast and general news anytime it showed anything political, I just switched onto another news channel. Apparently winter was gonna be real cold, even breaking some previous records on the charts. Why do they need to record the weather anyways? By the time I was done eating I had completely forgotten about my promise to Emma and started dozing off. It didn't take long before I fell asleep, the TV was still turned on and the miserable state of my bedroom just made it much more depressing. I laid on unwashed sheets, the room was filled with chips bags and empty cans of beers. The silence in the room was deafening along with being somewhat suffocating. Even in my sleep I could feel the air getting thick around me, the smell of my own sweat and the foul stench coming from my unwashed hair. It all blended together to make me want to puke but not enough to make me do anything about it. The rest of the apartment was pretty much the same. I haven't cleaned or even taken a bath since my husband's death. I didn't want to lose the little part of him left inside this place. The smell of his sweat, the cans he drank from and even the water he used to take a bath. I wanted to keep everything as it was and I intend to until recently when I finally started forgetting his voice. Why was I insistent on keeping things as it is? When I can't remember his voice, eventually I would forget his name and even his face. The very thought of that tore me up and yet I felt the need to move away from the memories and create a future instead but still I did nothing. Just how miserable can I be? The words of the man I met in the park rang into my ears like a chime, they brought me comfort along with clarity. I was awakened by a sudden knock on my door. It took me a while to get out of the daze and get to the door. When I opened the door it was a man I knew but somehow didn't. "Arthur?" I asked. He had worn a grey business suit, it went well with his ginger hair and lean body. "You forgot about me again?" he laughed, then suddenly stopped. Perhaps he felt a bit bad about his attempt at a joke. "Emma said I can get the apartment keys from you," he asked. Suddenly I could once again remember the promise. I nodded and brought him the keys. As I passed him the keys I realized something. Something that was in plain sight and yet I couldn't see. "I just need to not be that person." I accidently spoke out loud. "Anna, you okay? " he asked, he seemed genuinely shaken. I grabbed his hands and pulled him inside the apartment, he nearly tipped over but I couldn't care less. "Wh-what are you doing Anna?!" he said, his eyes were wide open with surprise. "I heard you the night my husband died." I said as I grabbed his shoulders and leaned into his face. "I heard Emma and you having s*x that night." the night of my husband Josh's funeral, I was crying alone in my room curved up like a ball. That's when I heard my friend's moans who had just attended the last of it. "How could you do that to me?" I asked. His face flustered and his heart racing I could feel it through our chests. "Anna I-I'm sorry, it was a stressful day." he replied, his breath growing heavier as did mine. I wrapped my hands around him and rubbed my face against his neck. "Ever since then I've been miserable, you know it's only fair I return that favor." I slowly bit into his neck, he tried to push me away but I managed to stay on top of him. I bit harder and harder. I could feel him clutching his teeth, the muscles in his neck tightened up, the force of his arms increased but I kept on biting even harder not letting go. Grunts and groans escaped his mouth but he could barely speak much more than that. He hit me with his hand on my back and even kicked me but even after taking those hits I didn't let go until finally he started falling around banging his head on my own, his hands eventually grew tired and so did his legs. He frailed on the ground for a few minutes before he finally stopped breathing. My mouth had been gushed with blood and the carpet underneath his body was the same. The smell of iron filled the air and as I saw his dead body on the ground what I felt wasn't regret but something much more amusing. I had escaped, I had escaped from the darkest pits of misery and now it was Emma's turn she would mourn her husband with her head on my shoulders not knowing the one who killed him, is nobody else but me. I felt happy, I couldn't help but smile impishly. The answer to escaping that pit was so easy. Why did it take so long for me to reach it? "You need to simply throw someone in a much darker place." The words the man had spoken rang in my ears like a chime, they brought me comfort along with clarity. Cause misery loves nothing more than a much more miserable company. I laughed.