Martha never recovered from the shock in his eyes as she plunged the knife into him. He had stated their affair was over and that his wife would be devastated if she knew.
Something snapped, hence he lay on the kitchen floor in a bloody heap. She buried him in the garden next to one of her beloved cats, yet he haunted her dreams. The guilt did not recede; the poisoned fog in her soul would not clear. Martha couldn't tell the psychiatrists the reason for her depression.
She walked into the police station.
"I want to confess to a murder."
Something snapped, hence he lay on the kitchen floor in a bloody heap. She buried him in the garden next to one of her beloved cats, yet he haunted her dreams. The guilt did not recede; the poisoned fog in her soul would not clear. Martha couldn't tell the psychiatrists the reason for her depression.
She walked into the police station.
"I want to confess to a murder."
