Twenty-Eight
Between the demon’s antics and my husband’s betrayal, I couldn’t take any more. I retired up to my room. Any more interaction with living creatures would push me over the edge today. I lie on top of the white covers of the bed and stared at the ceiling. My mind flitted from Vance and Alex’s affair to the mess I’d gotten myself into with the demon. I killed Alex. My best friend since we were in elementary school. I ripped her throat out. I enjoyed it. The fear in her eyes as I lifted her out of the bed felt good. I was powerful enough to get revenge. I never realized that my murder had been so personally decided. Whenever I thought about it, I imagined that some dark, yet faraway, evil people were the cause. The fact that my husband and my Alex concocted the entire scheme and scenario of
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