The Watcher

24

When the change came, he didn’t notice it. Even though it was like the sky and the sea traded places.

The apathy and hopelessness gave way, leaving room for the fantasies—fantasies of getting even and revenge, of terror-stricken screams and violent death. And then one day when she knew she was home alone, she got out of bed, got dressed, and packed her workout bag.

The day she decided to kill her husband was a Friday. But she didn’t know then what form it would take. This was something she would need time to prepare for. Until she had a plan, she would dedicate herself to building up her body. She would become stronger than she’d ever been. There was no assurance that pure raw strength would matter at all when the critical moment arrived, but it wasn’t out of the question, either. She needed to be prepared for everything.

He didn’t touch her anymore, didn’t see her without clothes on, and wouldn’t notice the physical change. He wouldn’t understand what was happening, and that was the way she wanted it. She would let him believe that she was weak and fragile, that she was still spending the majority of her days lying in bed. She would let him believe she was harmless.

There was a contraction. She felt it in every cell. It wouldn’t be long now, not long at all.