Becoming His Assassin

5 - Heartache and Rage

Dallas

    After being overseas, fighting for my country for the past six years, I was finally returning home to my beautiful fiance.  We met shortly after I completed basic training, and it was love at first sight.  

    Marcy was everything I wanted in a woman.  Beautiful, smart, talented, fearless, loyal, and a freak in the bed.  There wasn’t anything she wouldn’t do, and we always had fun together.

    She was average height for a female with long, curly red hair and stunning grayish-blue eyes.  Her body was covered in freckles, and I loved to spend hours counting and kissing them.

    When I walked off the ship after it docked in Texas, I had expected to see Marcy there with a smile on her face, but she was nowhere to be found.  After waving down a cab, I had him drive me to the base, where we lived.  On the way there, he let me use his cell phone to call her, but after three rings, it went to voicemail.

    As the cab pulled up in front of our home, I could see that both of our cars were sitting in the drive, but there was also another car that I didn’t recognize.  It was a red, Ford Mustang, and it appeared to be one of the newer models.

    After hastily paying the driver, I jumped out of the backseat and grabbed my suitcase from the trunk, then I rushed toward the front door.  When I turned the doorknob, I was surprised to find it locked.  Marcy had never been one to keep the door locked, so that instantly put me on edge.

    I had to dig through my suitcase to locate my keys, then I was able to let myself in.  I could have knocked, but I had a strong feeling that it wasn’t the right move.

    Once I was inside, I glanced around in search of Marcy’s gorgeous face, but she wasn’t in the living room or the kitchen.  Nor did I see anybody else.

    I could feel in my heart that something wasn’t right and immediately walked down the hallway toward our bedroom.  Halfway down the hallway, there was no mistaking the sound of my fiance’s moans, and they only got louder as I continued walking.

    By the time I reached the bedroom door, Marcy’s moans were mixing those of a man, and my blood was boiling.  Without hesitation, I barged into the room and angrily bellowed, “What in the f**k is going on in here!”

    Marcy was bouncing on top of none other than the one guy who I thought would never do something like that.  My supposed best friend and best man at our wedding.

    Completely enraged, I stalked over to the bed and fisted Marcy’s hair, then I dragged her down to the floor and gave her one hard slap across the face, making her head whip to the side.  Joel, being the dumbass he is, thought he would be able to stop me from slapping her again and grabbed my wrist, but I easily pulled my arm out of his grasp and slapped Marcy a second time.

    I had never felt so mad in my life, and there was no stopping me from turning from Marcy to Joel.  With my eyes narrowed into slits, I angrily snarled, “I can’t believe you’ve been f*****g my fiance!  How long has this been going on behind my back?”

    When he didn’t answer the question fast enough, that only pissed me off more.  Without thinking, I punched him in the face and sent him crashing to the floor, then I fisted his hair and jerked his head back.  

    I pulled my other hand back, ready to punch him again, as I screamed, “How f*****g long?”

    A steady stream of blood flowed from Joel’s nose, as he stuttered, “F-four y-years.”

    “Four years?” I hissed in disbelief, then I completely lost it.

    As I beat the brakes off of my supposed best friend, Marcy screamed and begged for me to stop, but her pleas fell on deaf ears.  I didn’t want to hear anything she had to say, especially when she was begging for me not to hurt her secret lover.  They both betrayed me, and they both deserved whatever happened to them.

    I didn’t stop throwing punches at Joel’s face until he was an unconscious, bloody mess, barely holding onto life.  Adrenaline was still coursing through my body, and all I wanted to do was hurt him more, but I knew if I didn’t stop, I would kill him.  That’s the only reason he didn’t die that day.

    When I climbed off of Joel, I turned around to see Marcy standing behind me with big, fat, ugly tears rolling down her cheeks.  Her one cheek was decorated with my hand print, and I couldn’t fight the urge to decorate her other cheek the same way.

    After slapping her to the floor again, I knelt down and pried the engagement ring off of her finger, taking some of her skin with it, but I didn’t care.  She deserved to feel a little pain after the pain she caused me.

    Don’t get me wrong.  I wasn’t one to just slap women around for no reason.  In fact, Marcy was the only woman I had ever slapped, and she was damn lucky that’s all I did to her.

    After shoving the engagement ring in my pocket, I glared at Marcy and vehemently hissed, “You’re nothing but a skanky hoe!  I don’t know why I put up with your s**t for so long!  If I ever see your face again, I might not be able to stop myself from killing you.”

    The second that last word left my mouth, I spun on my heel and stalked out of the bedroom, grabbing my suitcase on the way.  Without looking back to take one last look at the woman I thought would be my forever, I walked out of that house for the last time. 

    I tossed the suitcase into the back of my silver Mazda Miata, then I folded into the driver’s seat and immediately started the engine.  After giving it a few obnoxious revs of the engine, I threw the car in reverse and slammed on the gas.  Squealing tires, I backed out of the driveway, then I threw the car in first gear and squealed tires again, as I sped down the street.