Submitted by REDpandaBEAR1987 t3_11ifg7a in nosleep
I don’t know how she found out. But she did. I (M27) guess she (F25) has been going through my phone, or maybe my laptop. I was so careful. I used a private browser. I used a complicated password. Like really complicated. Sometimes even I couldn’t guess what the fucking hell I’d made it. And I never wrote it down or kept it in my saved passwords. I’m not stupid.
Or maybe I am. Hell, we’ve been together for three years. Three long looooong years. At first it was great. She was fun, vivacious, and sexy. She was adventurous in the bedroom. Very adventurous. I never thought I would find a wild amazing woman that would fulfill all my needs. Sometimes I could swear she was reading my body like a book. She’d cracked my code like a safe. Looking back that should have been some kind of clue that I couldn’t get anything past her…
I have a job in the tech industry, which pays well. Very well. I’d joined up with them at 18, as a hungry, driven intern fresh out of high school when we were a just small start up. After a several years of hard work, I made partner at 24. We’d hit the big time and were out celebrating at a local dive, and that’s when I met her. She was out with a few friends and I caught her eye across the bar. Feeling pretty confident and good about myself that night, I bought her a drink. She and her friends joined the table with my colleagues and I. After a wild night of drinking, heavy flirting, and bedroom eyes, I invited her back to my place. And she said yes.
Like all relationships, things got a bit stale after a few years. It was my fault really. Long days at work turned into long nights. She felt like I didn’t have time for her anymore. Like I wasn’t interested in her anymore. That was the furthest thing from the truth, but I couldn’t convince her. She complained that she was always at home alone, seeing as she ran an Etsy shop out of our apartment. Selling home made earrings, crystal necklaces, and little sculptures of fairies and gnomes that were nauseatingly adorable. Her work didn’t just clutter up her craft room, it spilled over into the rest of our home too. And I fucking hated it.
Then she’d accuse me of cheating too, and I wasn’t. I fucking wasn’t ok? But she wouldn’t listen and was getting really hysterical and it was pushing my buttons. It really pissed me off. Didn’t she know how hard I was working to pay for the lions share of our apartment, our bills? How the fuck did she think I could afford that ugly ass 3 thousand dollar Louis Vuitton purse for her birthday that she wanted so god damn bad?
Eventually I just said fuck it, if she was going to constantly punish me for fucking cheating then I might as well do it. Besides, we had a hot new intern that was always looking at me from across the conference room, leaving cute notes on my coffee, etc. Batting her eyelashes at me. Wearing those tight fucking pencil skirts. And I wasn’t getting any at home, not anymore. At first I felt like a real asshole, but all those guilty feelings went out the window when I was tangled up in the bed sheets of a hotel room during my lunch hour with a pert little 19 year old named Emma. I figured I was just getting what I deserved after all the screaming and nagging at home. After all the bullshit accusations. My girlfriend disagrees completely. I know that now as I type this from the bathroom in my Marriott room.
I’ve got it locked and my back is pressed up against the door, but I don’t know how long I have to wait this out. I don’t know how she found me or how long I’ll be in here. I always had Emma reserve the room with her credit card and I would give her cash to pay for it afterwards. I thought I was careful. Well, not fucking careful enough.
About 15 minutes ago Emma and I were getting ready to strip our clothes off and ravage each other when housekeeping knocked on the door. This wasn’t unusual as my fiery little intern had a habit of ordering champagne and strawberries. Which I always ended up paying for. She said they’re an aphrodisiac and get her in the mood. I always thought that was fucking stupid. All I needed to be in the mood was a flash of her perky little tits. But the knock came as usual, and as usual Emma opened the door, giggling playfully.
Only it wasn’t housekeeping. It was my girlfriend. Standing there with her face flushed beet red from rage, she screamed “I knew it! I fucking KNEW IT, you piece of fucking shit! You said I was fucking crazy! FUCKING CRAZY! HOW’S THIS FOR CRAZY?!?” Shrieking at the top of her lungs, she lunged at Emma, swinging a razor sharp craft knife that she uses when making clay sculptures and other useless fucking knickknacks. The scalpel-like blade cut wildly through the air and eventually one of her exaggerated swings aimed true. A thin crimson line started to appear across Emma’s neck and it quickly exploded open, spurting giant streams of crimson red blood along the walls and the ceiling. It almost looked like art. Better than any of her other art, anyways.
Well, I didn’t fucking waste any time bolting towards the bathroom, my feet slipping in streaks of blood. Lucky for me, I kept my footing and made it inside as Emma’s body crumpled to the floor. Now I’m trapped in here as my she hacks away at the door from the outside, no doubt gouging the wood with small rivulets and feeble notches. I know she can’t get in. The lock should hold and the added pressure of my body against the door will be enough. I’ve already called 911 and the operator assured me “help was on the way” but I’m due back at work any time now for a meeting with the other three partners. I can’t believe I’m going to have to explain this to the company. I might even have to resign. And we’re going to need a new fucking intern.