Cliché Experiments: Art Imitating Life

I didn’t plan to hurt her. That’s important. I’ve watched a lot of police shows and courtroom dramas so I know that intention makes all the difference in a lot of these cases. It’s the difference between a couple of decades and my entire life. The difference between voluntary manslaughter and murder.

I think I’m ready for the questions they’re going to throw at me, the supposed curveballs. They’re going to ask what I was doing near her house last night. That one’s easy; I just wanted to talk to her, woman to woman. I’m a sensible, rational person, so when I found out what had happened, I thought it only fair to hear her side of it before I jumped to any conclusions and left my husband. That would have been a vast overreaction if she turned out to just be some random predator and he her victim . I knocked on her door and introduced myself politely. If I had been angry, there’s no way she would have let me in, is there?

They’ll probably ask about the knife first, though. The police told me they knew it wasn’t hers, and I never said it was. I didn’t pretend that I had grabbed it from her knife rack, I was quite honest about bringing it with me to her house. Why did I bring it? Well, I didn’t know how she was going to react, I didn’t know the woman. I mean, I knew she didn’t have fantastic morals because she fucked a married man, but how was I to know that adultery was as far as she strayed from her compass? Perhaps she was just bat shit crazy. I had to be ready to protect myself.

So, of course, if I didn’t plan to kill her then what changed? It’s obvious, isn’t it? She threatened me. Although she let me in and heard me out, it was clear that she didn’t want to listen to my detailed and articulate explanation of how her actions had hurt me and my marriage. I grew tired of how unforthcoming she was and went to leave, and it was then that she muttered, ‘yeah, you’d better leave’. I laughed nervously and asked her to repeat herself, while I felt for the knife in my bag, but she just shook her head and motioned to follow me to the door. At the door I tentatively went to shake her hand, and she said, ‘if you touch me, I will fucking kill you. And then I’ll kill your scrawny, limp-dick husband too’. That was when I panicked and whipped the knife out of my bag and… well, it all went wrong. But I was scared. Not for me, for my husband. I couldn’t let her hurt us, she had already done so much to damage our family.

Then there’s the question of how they found her. I get how it must have looked, finding her in the doorway like that. It would seem like she hadn’t let me in, and that actually she’d answered the door to some raging mad woman who’d slashed at her wildly, hence the wounds on her arms where she’d tried to defend herself. Because the door was open, the neighbours heard and called the police which is why I’m here now and not back home with my husband. But anyone who knows me knows that, as I said, I am a levelheaded and balanced woman, not some wild maniac. Of course, she and I know that she let me in. It’s a shame she isn’t around to attest to that.

I think the hardest question to answer will be about my husband. The last time I saw him was yesterday morning before he went to work. He was working late so after I found the emails I didn’t see him, and when he got home I had already left to go and talk to her. I was horrified to hear that he wasn’t at work this morning. I was in custody, of course. I dread to think that anything bad has happened to my sweetheart, but these things happen all the time. He walks to and from work so it could have been anything, especially when it was late and dark. I just hope he didn’t meet up with another slut. Women are insane. You never know what small thing will change her from calm and sweet to a bludgeoning murderess.

I’ll admit, it looks bad. If this were a TV show, the outcome would be that I had actually seen him before I left, that I’d killed him in some despicable way, disposed of the body and then gone to her house with a knife and stabbed her in her doorway in some kind of hysterical rampage. I get that it looks that way, but that’s not what happened. I’m not crazy. It’ll be tough, but I think I’m ready. The truth is on my side.

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