Be Careful What You Confess Ch. 02

********

I was more than satisfied that my vengeance had been done until about six months later when I received a phone call from a book publisher asking what the status was on the contract for 'Rita's novel'?

What novel?

Come to find out, Rita and her agent had been in the final contract stages of a deal to sell her first novel. The publisher had asked for some last minute changes to the manuscript and then had heard nothing about its progress since. I didn't know anything about it so I called up the police inspector who had visited me to ask him if they had found a novel manuscript anywhere in Rita's personal effects locked up in an evidence storage locker. There was, and they had also found a small USB drive stored in her laptop case that had an encrypted copy of the original manuscript. The police IT forensics team had partially broken that security enough to verify that the document was probably not related to the crime and had largely forgotten about it since.

I had to sign a bunch of paperwork to claim her property from police evidence, but since the case was considered closed, they were quite glad to be rid of it all. I think they had even called me about this stuff a few months ago and I had fairly rudely told them to trash it all. Fortunately they hadn't.

Her novel was very enlightening and the more I read it through the greater my doubts and concerns became. By the time I was done, I was sure that I had murdered a completely crazy, but otherwise innocent woman.

Her novel was a thriller and concerned a beaten and abused housewife who turns to an Internet gossip and confession board for solace. Gradually the heroine becomes embolden to fight back against her oppressor and even, at the end learns how to obtain illegal and dangerous drugs from unregulated oversea pharmacies. She poisons her husband's coffee and escapes police justice. She lives happily with a new man, end of story.

The 'facts' suddenly began to match her novel entirely too closely for comfort. Was she really crazy and writing her ideal fantasy, eventually to poison me at the end? Or was she really just an overly secretive novice writer, who relied upon real life for inspiration and tested every step her fictional murderess would take, including verifying that such a dangerous drug could be easily bought overseas and even shipped right to her workplace.

Was she a batshit crazy murderess or just a crazy paranoid woman not wanting to reveal the secret of her forthcoming literary success until the final contract was signed? Or even both?

I just didn't know anymore.

*********

It became very tiring, over the next year, to have well meaning folks always asking me 'how I was doing'. The answer, 'fine, I guess', never satisfied anyone. In actuality, I was not doing particularly fine at all. I'd lost a lot of weight and still wasn't sleeping worth a shit anymore. I would just stay awake half of most nights reviewing everything Rita and I had ever said or done for the last year of our marriage, looking for some lost overlooked clue. I never found any.

I signed the contract allowing her publisher to print her novel under an assumed name, first in a small hardback edition that was mostly presold to libraries and then a mass market paperback. I negotiated for a large up front advance with any later royalties being donated in perpetuity to a Men's Legal Advocacy center that specialized in false rape, spousal and child abuse cases. Rita would have loved the irony. I reserved all other rights and refused to provide any marketing assistance for the book. I just wanted to be done with it all. Naturally, Lifetime wanted to make a movie out of her novel, emphasizing the innate brutality of men probably, but I told them to go suck eggs. Not a chance in seven hells… I was going to take those TV and film rights unused to my grave!

Even reading her published book in its final format provided me with no further clues that I'd missed early. Was I a true murderer, or had I just prevented my own death by the skin of my teeth? A year later I still had no answers, but now I had a brand new question. What to do with or tell the new woman who very much wanted to be a part of my new life?

Cecilia was a bubbly short airhead of a blond in her late twenties with a failed marriage of her own behind her, and a motor mouth that was incapable of not chattering away inanely from morning until night about everything and nothing. In nearly every way she was the polar opposite of Rita… Cecilia could not keep any secret from anyone even if her life depended upon it and we quickly established trust between each other. We were still at the 'sleep-over' stage of the relationship, but the hint was there that she was ready to move her things in to stay. I was just about ready to let her.

The sex was wild, uninhibited, and she was more than willing to 'reward' me with more and better sex. She was a woman who understood the small niceties about showing gratitude. Saturday was rapidly becoming a regular 'steak and blowjob' night and after I did a little computer repair fix for a friend of hers she rewarded me by offering her ass for my use that evening.

She definitely had fantasies and at least a hundred different kinky things she wanted to try someday; semi-public sex, sure; nude beach; absolutely; threesome with a hot girlfriend; maybe someday <wink>.

I decided that Cecilia would become my penance. I was certain to be totally deaf by the time I turned fifty, probably self-inflicted via a red-hot poker into my ears. It might take her a full hour to tell a simple story of going to the shoe store and not buying anything, but at least we'd have no secrets between us.

She trusted me implicitly and I was slowly learning that I could trust her.

Still, I decided that I had one last confession of my own to make. I went to our local public library and sat down at one of their computers. I then connected to a half dozen proxies to hide my IP and logged into uConfess and created a brand new account for my confession.

**********

Hello, "Crossroads"

This is your 1st visit to uConfess

You have no new private messages and 0 users have added you as a Favorite Confessor since your last login

~

New Confession:

"I have a dirty little rotten secret that I must get off my chest. One year ago I murdered my wife… and I no longer regret it.

She was a batshit crazy lying bitch that couldn't trust anyone to even turn off a light switch without her guidance. The world is a less crazy place without her and I have a new very hot younger girlfriend who wants to fuck me at least twice a day.

It is the estrogen deficient insane women of this board that I have to thank.

Without your completely insane rabid man-hating advice that you gave, my formerly loving wife might still be alive today. Oh, we'd be divorced, but there are far worse things… like a six foot grave. Instead, you encouraged her, even demanded that she find increasingly immoral and illegal means of disposing of me, culminating in a mass orgy of psychopathic blathering that only my immediate murder could prevent global warming, solve the energy crisis, provide free government health care and education for everyone, and make the world safe for fat Dove bar oinking dingbats.

You all sound fat… I can tell by all of the anti-male whining. Put down the ice cream bowl and go to the gym.

On the other hand, since my late wife was a scheming and manipulative bitch, there is a pretty good chance that she was just a poser here, sounding out her wacked out theories for global domination upon her psycho peers, here at the epicenter of crazy for the Internet… or maybe this place is #2 after 4chan? Both places need lots of eye-bleach after visiting.

So, either my wife, tried to murder me (with your assistance, help and considerable guidance), or else she was just a paranoid dingbat trying to be secretive, but otherwise completely innocent of obeying you nutcases. I don't know what the truth is, and I no longer care.

Flip a coin… it's fifty-fifty. Either way, I blame YOU for her death.

In the unlikely event you would like to confess your sins, I don't care. I've decided to live and I'll treat my hot new girlfriend far better than my late wife ever treated me. Unlike most of you in frozen Dove bar land, I'm going to be getting laid… and often.

For those of you who feel no guilt in recommending my murder, I politely and sincerely wish you to take a bath with a toaster, or else go die in a fire, whichever is more convenient.

Leaving the crossroads…

******

After this post I promptly deleted my account and wiped out the browser cache clean from their craziness forever.

I had decided that I was going to live… and be happy!