Read Online Killing Me Softly by Kathryn R. Biel - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Kathryn R. Biel
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carry on. This is my punishment for killing all those people. I think a negative thought about someone and—poof—they're dead. I have to erase all the negativity from my life. And there's only one way to do that.
I have to move.
I know it seems rash, especially in light of the recent turmoil I'm living, but I need to start over. I'm thirty-five years old and destined to be alone. I'm actually sort of okay with that. I'm really and truly nervous that I am responsible for people's lives. If I'm living somewhere new, then maybe I won't have as many ties, and I won't kill as many people. I know I'm grasping at straws, but I need something to hold onto in this moment.
Even if I didn't kill Rob—which seems unlikely, since we had just broken up—I had decided I was no longer settling. Living in my crappy apartment is settling. Putting up with my sister's antics and my brother's douchiness is settling. I don't have the money to quit my job right now. Even anticipating the awkwardness that will result from the goings on at the wake, I'm actually pretty content with my job. I truly love American history. I'm sort of a nerd like that. I do enjoy teaching. I like to think I make a difference, even if it's a small one.
I get back to my apartment and am once again startled to see Therese inside. "What are you doing here? Please don't tell me someone else has died. I just cannot handle any more tonight."
Therese hands me a glass. I make a face as the liquor burns going down. "Good Lord, what is this?"
"It's a Rob Roy. In honor of the dearly departed. You won't need many."
I put the glass down on the coffee table. Which is uncharacteristically clean. I look around. The whole place looks spotless. "Did you clean?"
"Yeah, I figured you could use the help. How was the wake?"
I kick off my heels and head into the kitchen to find something to eat. Drinking on an empty stomach isn't a good idea, and I definitely need to be drinking tonight. I dig a bag of pretzels out of the cabinet and find the jar of peanut butter. Dipping the pretzels right in the peanut butter, I start munching away.
"That's disgusting. Haven't you ever heard of utensils?"
"I live alone. No one eats this peanut butter but me."
"Good point. You didn't answer my question."
"The wake was a disaster of epic proportions."
Over that Rob Roy, and then another, I give Therese all the gory details.
"So ... vomit?"
"All over the funeral home rug."
"So ... she was spanking the monkey?"
"Yup. He died with it all hangin' out."
She's quiet for a minute, and I can tell she wants to ask me something big. 'Cause otherwise, Therese is never this quiet for this long.
"Was he ... like that with you?"
"You mean getting it on while he was driving? Never. I mean, this man wouldn't hold my hand in public. He would only kiss me behind closed doors. God forbid there was any public sex. I mean, once we did it on his living room rug, but otherwise, it was in bed, with the lights off."
"How boring."
"It got really bad after the fall. That's when things fell off between us."
"Do you think that's when he started seeing Jenna?"
"I don't know. I kept waiting and waiting for things to pick up again between us. For him to make a move and to take control, but he never did."
"Maybe he wanted you to take control."
I shrug. "Maybe that's why he ended up with Jenna. I just can't believe he proposed to her."
"Yeah, that makes no sense whatsoever."
"And the ring is the antithesis of anything I would want."
"Marquise cut?"
"You got it."
"Doesn't he know that you're likely to stab yourself with that cut of stone?
"Apparently not." Feeling the alcohol melt through my limbs, I sink even deeper into the couch. "I didn't want to marry him. I broke up with him. But I didn't want him to love someone else."
"I just find it hard to believe that he could be in love with Jenna. It's like he had the Madonna-whore complex or something."
"Yeah, but I would have been a whore in the bedroom. Or
I have to move.
I know it seems rash, especially in light of the recent turmoil I'm living, but I need to start over. I'm thirty-five years old and destined to be alone. I'm actually sort of okay with that. I'm really and truly nervous that I am responsible for people's lives. If I'm living somewhere new, then maybe I won't have as many ties, and I won't kill as many people. I know I'm grasping at straws, but I need something to hold onto in this moment.
Even if I didn't kill Rob—which seems unlikely, since we had just broken up—I had decided I was no longer settling. Living in my crappy apartment is settling. Putting up with my sister's antics and my brother's douchiness is settling. I don't have the money to quit my job right now. Even anticipating the awkwardness that will result from the goings on at the wake, I'm actually pretty content with my job. I truly love American history. I'm sort of a nerd like that. I do enjoy teaching. I like to think I make a difference, even if it's a small one.
I get back to my apartment and am once again startled to see Therese inside. "What are you doing here? Please don't tell me someone else has died. I just cannot handle any more tonight."
Therese hands me a glass. I make a face as the liquor burns going down. "Good Lord, what is this?"
"It's a Rob Roy. In honor of the dearly departed. You won't need many."
I put the glass down on the coffee table. Which is uncharacteristically clean. I look around. The whole place looks spotless. "Did you clean?"
"Yeah, I figured you could use the help. How was the wake?"
I kick off my heels and head into the kitchen to find something to eat. Drinking on an empty stomach isn't a good idea, and I definitely need to be drinking tonight. I dig a bag of pretzels out of the cabinet and find the jar of peanut butter. Dipping the pretzels right in the peanut butter, I start munching away.
"That's disgusting. Haven't you ever heard of utensils?"
"I live alone. No one eats this peanut butter but me."
"Good point. You didn't answer my question."
"The wake was a disaster of epic proportions."
Over that Rob Roy, and then another, I give Therese all the gory details.
"So ... vomit?"
"All over the funeral home rug."
"So ... she was spanking the monkey?"
"Yup. He died with it all hangin' out."
She's quiet for a minute, and I can tell she wants to ask me something big. 'Cause otherwise, Therese is never this quiet for this long.
"Was he ... like that with you?"
"You mean getting it on while he was driving? Never. I mean, this man wouldn't hold my hand in public. He would only kiss me behind closed doors. God forbid there was any public sex. I mean, once we did it on his living room rug, but otherwise, it was in bed, with the lights off."
"How boring."
"It got really bad after the fall. That's when things fell off between us."
"Do you think that's when he started seeing Jenna?"
"I don't know. I kept waiting and waiting for things to pick up again between us. For him to make a move and to take control, but he never did."
"Maybe he wanted you to take control."
I shrug. "Maybe that's why he ended up with Jenna. I just can't believe he proposed to her."
"Yeah, that makes no sense whatsoever."
"And the ring is the antithesis of anything I would want."
"Marquise cut?"
"You got it."
"Doesn't he know that you're likely to stab yourself with that cut of stone?
"Apparently not." Feeling the alcohol melt through my limbs, I sink even deeper into the couch. "I didn't want to marry him. I broke up with him. But I didn't want him to love someone else."
"I just find it hard to believe that he could be in love with Jenna. It's like he had the Madonna-whore complex or something."
"Yeah, but I would have been a whore in the bedroom. Or
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