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Fuck.
Ron thought to himself as he pulled into the driveway and parked his minivan. He could barely think of anything more complex than just the one word, except maybe to thank the lord he made it home safely after 8 bottles of beer he chugged down. Though as he sat in his car, lazily leaning back in his seat and rubbing his eyes, a feeling of dread slowly crawled from his lower abdomen to his head.
FUCK.
He couldn’t do anything but panic as a sudden clarity set over his mind. He had just slept with another man. A coworker of all people. It was only made worse by the fact that Ron had felt feelings for this man for months now. He had tried to stuff them down, going to church on more than just Sundays and he had even started praying more often, making sure he constantly had a cross around his neck.
But now wasn’t the time to think about that, he had already spent much longer than intended out at night and Cary was probably worried sick.
Hopefully the kids are in bed, I wouldn’t want them worrying too much,
Ron sluggishly unbuckled his seat belt before getting out of the minivan and locking the car. As he stumbled to the front door, he struggled to come up with an excuse, though an excuse wouldn’t do him any help as he had failed to notice that his collar and part of his shirt was unbuttoned. The opened shirt left the once blank canvas now fully exposed, showing off the hickeys and deep bite marks that adorned Ron’s chest and neck like they were part of some sort of art exhibit, one of regret and self hatred.
As he lightly knocked on the door, Ron found himself leaning on one of the columns on their small front porch. He was a mess and his mind wasn’t clear enough to care to fix himself, let alone notice how he looked. He reeked of beer and the large sweat stains on his dress shirt didn’t help the smell get any better.
When the front door finally opened, Ron was met with silence from Cary. Despite it being nearly midnight, Cary was still wearing day clothes, though not the same ones Ron remembered her wearing when he left for work that morning. Though, after a few seconds of shifting facial expressions as she thought over what to say, Cary finally spoke up.
“How was the company party, dear?”
The next thing Ron could remember was Cary yelling at him for sleeping with another woman. Clueless was she that Ron had had sex with another man while shitfaced drunk.
“Dad? Is mom alright?”
Fuck. The kids.
Ron stared down at his shaking hands.
Blood.
Not his though.
Cary’s.
Cary laid lifeless on the floor, her body bruised and bloodied by Ron’s bare hands. He beat her to death in a drunken rage after she started yelling at him. He didn’t mean to do it. He just lost control over himself, right? It was just the booze. Right?
Ron slowly stood up from Cary’s body, her blood spattered all over him, shirt, hands, face, everything.
“Would you two like to get some ice cream from Zandy’s?”
He got in the car, not caring to put his seatbelt on or even check the kids. A quiet groan escaped Ron’s lips as a headache began to set in. He hadn’t even processed what he just did. Beating his own wife to death and then going to take his kids to get ice cream, what a Christian he was.
Jesus Christ my head fucking hurts-
Was the next thing he remembered thinking as he lifted his head from the steering wheel. His neck felt like it could barely support the weight of his head as his ears rang and he stared at the blood dripping all over himself. There was glass everywhere and the twins were on the dashboard. He couldn’t see out of his left eye, a large chunk of metal stabbing right through it as Ron just sat there, completely numb and just tired.
Ron bled out before paramedics could arrive on scene.