Sloppy Wet Kiss: Yolanda (2)

Sloppy Wet Kiss: Yolanda (2)

red lips isolated in white

By Tashinga Wazara, Zimbabwe:

I have been betrayed. Not only that, but I have been betrayed by someone whom I trusted; someone whom I loved. This person has been having an affair with my fiance right under my nose. I found out through texts that I saw on his phone and I have been stalking them for a couple of weeks since then and plotting my next move. I have to put an end to this. I have to deal with her absolutely. She cannot be a problem going into the future because I WILL marry my fiance and we WILL live happily ever after. Nobody is going to get in the way of that, no matter how close to me they are.

This morning, I woke up early and told George, my fiance, that I was going on a work trip. I said goodbye to him at 7am and left the house. The only thing is that I wasn’t going on any work trip, I was going to George’s lover’s house to go and deal with her. I had to put out the flame that they had started before it turned into a fire that destroyed my entire five year relationship.

I know you might be wondering, “But didn’t your fiance also betray you? Why are you not angry with him? Why do you not want to deal with him? In fact, the moment you found out about the affair, you should have confronted him and asked him to explain himself instead of going after his lover.” Well, that is because he is mine. I have worked way too hard and way too long on my relationship with Georgie just to let him go. When we first started dating, he was just a human rights lawyer working for a small NGO in the city and I was the one who spoke to my Dad and got him a really good job at the United Nations Human Rights Council and now he was earning almost triple what he was earning before. The apartment we were living in belonged to me, I cook for him, I clean, cater to all of his needs. I have dedicated my entire life to him. He does not have the right to leave me. I will deal with his lover, get her out of the way, forever.

I am now approaching my fiance’s lover’s house. My hands are shaking as I pull up on her driveway. I take a deep breath and compose myself. I’m here now. There’s no turning back. I walk up to the door and knock. I hear footsteps as she comes to the door. She opens it. “Oh hi darling!” she says. “What a lovely surprise! Come on in,” I fake a smile and I get into the house.

“Can I make you some tea,” she says as she walks into the kitchen.

“Yes, tea would be lovely thank you. In fact let me make it. I insist. Black tea, one sugar right?” I say as I walk to the kettle to turn it on.

“Yes my love. Wow you still remember!” she exclaims.

“Of course. We did used to live together?” I say as a matter of fact.

When I said that, it reminded me of the level of betrayal that this woman had subjected me to. She sat down on the kitchen table while I made the tea.

“So to what do I owe this surprise visit? Is everything okay with George?” she says and I think to myself, “I’m sure you’d really love that wouldn’t you?”

“No everything’s great. I just missed you,” I say, putting on my best smile again.

I was now putting sugar into the tea and while she wasn’t looking, I put a little blue pill into her tea as well and stirred.

“Okay, tea is ready now,” I say as I pass her the cup.

I made my tea as well and joined her at the kitchen table. We started engaging in small talk about what’s been going on in our lives and about my wedding since she was helping me plan it. I was a bit scared that she would taste something funny in the tea but she didn’t and she drank away.

After about fifteen minutes she says, “I’m not feeling too good, Yolanda. I think I need to lie down.” She tried to get up but she felt dizzy and sat back down. “I don’t know what’s going on,” she said as she held on to the table shaking her head.

“You don’t look too good, let me take you to the hospital,” I say, as I go over to help her up. I had to get her to the car before she passed out. We walked slowly to my car and by the time we got there she had passed out. I then drove her to an old warehouse that I had found a week earlier and rented out for a month under George’s lover’s name. I had made sure to pay for it in cash. It was a rundown warehouse in an abandoned place downtown but it had a door that could lock and it was far away from people. That was enough.

I dragged her inside and sat her on a chair in the middle of the room. I tied her arms behind her back and bound her feet. She was a lot heavier than I thought. I then sat across from her and watched her in her comatose-like state. I have never felt so much hatred for anyone in that one moment. I hated her for sleeping with the man she knew I was madly in love with. I hated her for smiling at me all the time while she was doing it. I hated her for calling me “darling”, for telling me how much she loved me when she hurt me so badly. Suddenly I started crying and I got up and took a piece of rope that was on the floor and went to her. I put it over her neck and started squeezing. I could feel her body convulsing as she started running out of air and I stopped. A fear suddenly came over me and I started shaking again and crying uncontrollably. What was I doing? I wasn’t a murderer. But then again I couldn’t let her live. She had to die. How could she do this to me? If it had been anyone else I might have been able to get over it, but this was different. This was my mother.

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