I had a memory, a thought, that had haunted me since… forever. It held me into its arms and cradled me until I fell asleep, then shook me awake. Even after 10 years, even after all that time pushing the memory down and sitting on it, its bubbling up again.

They found the body. They have the evidence, and they have my DNA. I remember scrambling with the knife, rage and fear overtaking me and pushing the blade of the knife into his chest. It went all the way in, and I foolishly pulled it out.

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My beautiful boyfriend walked into my bedroom with a grim face, like he was about to tell me that he killed someone. He sat down on the bed near my feet, and took the book from my hands. I giggled, he shushed me. “Listen, Terrianna,” He began, using my full name instead of honey, or baby.

My smile dissolved into something that matched his. “What is it? Tell me it’s not something bad,” I replied, hope still clawing at my hair and eyes and cheeks.

“I’ve.. I’ve been talking to someone,” he says. I feel my throat closing and my tears pushing. “What do you mean?” I forced myself to ask. What if it’s a big misunderstanding and he was just seeing a new friend or something? He sighs. “I cheated on you,” He says. And in that moment, all the things other men had said to and about and behind me crawled out of my eyes in nimbly fashion and rolled down my cheeks like a dam had broke. Something else takes ahold of me, maybe anger, and I scramble to stand up. “Y-you what..?!” I say more than I ask, and my head spins. “Listen, it was a mista—“

I cut him off. “Shut the hell up!” I yell, tears practically puddling beside my bare feet. I run to the kitchen, where the back door is, and he trails behind me. “Baby, listen,” He attempts. All I hear is ringing in my ears as I throw a drawer open and take ahold of any knife I see— one you would most likely cut a watermelon or pineapple with —and raise it above me head.

Before I even realize what’s in my hand and what I’m about to do, I plunge the knife into his chest, then his thigh. Blood splatters on my face and hair and lips and chest, but I don’t stop. I cry and weep and scream and stab him. Then I drag his body out and throw it into the thick trees for the birds to eat. Only then do I realize what I had just done.

Only the do I know I made a huge mistake.