The Black Widow

The Black Widow.

By C.J. Johnson.

©C.J. Johnson

Published on Amazon 2013

All characters in this novel are a work of fiction based entirely on the author's imagination. Any resemblance to person/s, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Other titles by C.J. Johnson.

Female of the Species.

Snapped.

From the Shadows.

All these titles are available to purchase on Amazon.

Keep up with C.J's upcoming novels and check out her reviews blog.

www.cjsdarkfictions.com

www.cjsdarkfictionandreviews.blogspot.co.uk

Like her on Facebook - C.J. Johnson Author Page.

Follow her on Twitter - CJWriter666

C.J. is currently working on two adult fiction novels in the thriller genre and has notes for 4 YA novels, also in the thriller genre.

Prologue

Cheryl hissed in pain as the blade swept quickly over her stomach. Her tender skin parted and the blood flowed thinly downwards, soaking into the waistband of her tight fitting jeans. The cut burned, as if the blade itself had been burning hot.

The blade moved lower and the tip lightly brushed against her. Squeezing her eyes shut, Cheryl sobbed once as the blade hovered, then began to shake.

With a guttural growl of pain and rage, she threw the knife into the sink and grabbed a roll of kitchen towel from the side of the microwave.

Tears flowed freely down her beautiful face as she fumbled with the unopened roll, unable to find first sheet through her tears.

Bastard,
she thought repeatedly as she struggled, becoming angrier and angrier. Grunting in rage, she ripped a handful of paper towels away and dropped the roll to the floor.

Trembling and leaning on the kitchen counter, Cheryl pressed the wad of towels to her cut. She winced in pain and pressed the wad tighter against her to stop the bleeding.

Bastard
, she thought again as the intense stinging of her wound made her want to scream at the top of her lungs.

I shouldn't be doing this, I'm better now.

Cheryl sobbed as she threw the wad of bloodstained towels in the bin. Her eyes latched on the framed photo resting on the unit at the far side of the kitchen.

Her wedding day.

Giving in to the surge of emotion that burst from her broken heart, Cheryl slumped in a chair and rested her head in her arms.

She cried. She cursed. She raged.

Bastard, bastard, bastard.

She thumped the table and cried the tears of a betrayed woman, furious yet overwhelmed with pain.

Images tumbled through her mind ; Dave sitting at the breakfast table this morning ; their first date ; Dave screwing his young hot secretary on his desk, his face screwed up in ecstasy as the bitch cried out in pleasure.

Cheryl cursed.

The last was not a made up image, it was an image she found in Dave's email not ten minutes earlier. The slut secretary had taken a picture of she and Dave making love in the large mirror at Dave's office. Then she'd emailed it to him, the text for the image a disgusting string of dirty words, describing in full detail what she'd like to do with Dave next time.

Cheryl forced herself to stand on trembling legs and made her way to the cabinet that contained the alcohol and reached for the good whiskey.

Taking a long swallow, she squeezed her eyes shut as the liquid left a trail of fire from her throat to her stomach.

Feeling somewhat calmer, Cheryl took another swallow and capped the bottle. As she placed it back on its shelf, she once again looked at the framed photo of her wedding day.

Dave looked handsome and she looked beautiful.

The happiest day of my life
, Cheryl thought bitterly.
The day Dave vowed to love me, only me, and forsake all others.

Fury grasping her once again, Cheryl grabbed the photo and raised it above her head, intending to smash it. The thought of watching it shatter against the wall, the broken pieces scattering far and wide, was satisfying but painful at the same time.

Instead, she stopped herself and stared at it.

No. I have to be smart about this.

She carefully placed the photo back down and made her way to the sink. Picking up the knife she'd used to cut herself with, she turned the tap on and rinsed the blood off.

Suddenly, the picture from Dave's email flashed into her mind, the pleasure on Dave's face slicing into her heart. Leaning into the sink, she vomited violently. Gasping for air as tears streamed down her face, she cupped some water from the tap and sucked it down thirstily.

She busied herself for the next five minutes or so as she cleaned the kitchen, removing any evidence of her hurting herself.

As she removed an empty wrapper from the counter top to place it in the bin, she caught side of the bloodied tissues and her eyes flooded with tears.

This is all my father's fault
, she thought bitterly. She pushed the tissues further into the bin and pulled rubbish over to hide them.

She hadn't harmed herself in years but it was her father's fault that she'd started. Always on her back, telling her what to do, how long to study for and who she could and couldn't date. Then, in her middle-teens, she'd rebelled and started going out till all hours, wearing make-up and short skirts. Her father had shouted and she'd shouted back as her mother sat hunched over, weeping into her hands.

Once Cheryl had realised that her father had no control over her, no matter what he said, it was easy. By the time she'd reached 18, her father had given up. He told her she would amount to nothing and focused his energy on her younger sister, Tess.

Two years younger than Cheryl, Tess was the apple of daddy's eye.

Cheryl had secretly harmed herself until she'd met Dave at the age of 20. He'd been nine years older than her and Cheryl was instantly smitten.

They had married 2 years later.

Her father had been impressed; Dave was handsome, well off and ran his own successful business in computers.

And yet, her father couldn't resist that last dig on her wedding day as they'd had their father daughter dance.

"Keep hold of him, Cheryl," he'd told her quietly, his cold eyes boring into hers with the same look he'd been giving her since she was 13. "It's time to grow up, you have a husband now. Pull your socks up and get to college, get some skills and qualifications behind you to help Dave out. Just because he's well off doesn't mean you can sit around at home all day doing your hair and make-up. Get out there and do something to contribute to your marriage."

Cheryl had smiled and gritted her teeth as tears shone in her eyes.

Her wedding day.

Her father couldn't even tell her he was proud of her and loved her on her own wedding day.

Instead, after his little speech to Cheryl, he had told anyone who'd listen about how well Tess was doing at college and what a successful career she had ahead of her in architecture.

Cheryl had vowed that one day
she
would be the reason for his pride, that it would be
her
name he bragged about.

Now here she was, 3 years into her marriage and her husband was having an affair.

Her father would never say anything to Cheryl, but she knew what he would think. He'd think that he was right, that Cheryl hadn't looked after her husband well enough and he'd sought out other women to give him what Cheryl was to self involved to give him.

Cheryl stared at her wedding picture.

This wasn't the first time that Dave had cheated, in fact, she believed he slept with other women every time he had business meetings or whatever the reason he told her his weekend trip away was for. When she first realised this, a mere 6 months into their marriage, she'd been devastated.

But then she'd realised that Dave didn't have affairs, he had one-night stands.

These women meant nothing to him, and he was always extra nice and loving when he came back from one of his trips.

Thinking of the situation in the positive light, Cheryl had followed suit and regularly had lovers of her own.

Some may wonder how a woman could be happy with such an existence, but Cheryl loved her life.

She did not want anything to change.

This situation was different; this wasn't just some woman he'd met and bedded at a bar, this was a woman he worked with and saw everyday. Judging by the email and attached pictures Cheryl had seen, this was something that had been going on for a while and would continue for some time yet.

What if Dave fell in love with her? What if he already was?

Cheryl had met the woman three months ago as she'd turned up at Dave's office to surprise him on his dinner hour. Noticing the woman's beauty immediately, Cheryl had felt a stab of jealousy.

She wondered whether Dave had bedded her yet.

Telling herself it didn't matter if he had because it wouldn't mean anything anyway, Cheryl had forced it from her mind.

But now, she had to do something about it.

The bitch wanted Dave, and Cheryl was not going to sit back and do nothing.

What if Dave left her for this woman?

She had no qualifications, no savings and nowhere to go. She would end up dumped and penniless. She'd have no option but to move back in with her mum and dad.

A feeling a despair rushed over Cheryl.

I'd rather be dead.

Wearily getting to her feet, Cheryl glanced once more at the bottle of whiskey.

No. I can't get drunk. It'll solve nothing. I need a plan.

She made her way down the hallway and into the living room, looking around her as she went.

With four bedrooms, two bathrooms, two reception rooms and a large garden, their house was far too big for a couple with no children. But Cheryl liked having a big house and could not imagine living anywhere smaller than this.

This house made her feel good about herself, her achievements. She had decorated it all herself. Dave, being a typical man, hated decorating and had given Cheryl full control. With his credit card in hand, she had created the most beautiful home that money could buy.

True, the money had been Dave's, but she was his wife so it was just as much her money as his.

Settling into the large corner suite, a calm logic settled over Cheryl. She wasn't going to lose everything, not to some slutty secretary that was probably only interested in Dave's money.

No.

She couldn't crumble and fall apart. Dave was having an affair, which may or may not be serious, but she couldn't risk just sitting back and hoping it was a meaningless fling.

There was too much at stake.

Dave knew she used his computer and that email account for various payments to catalogues and credit cards. He was either incredibly stupid or he simply didn't care whether she found out or not.

Cheryl's jaw clenched, causing her temples to ache.

Why should her life and reputation be ruined because of him? She knew she could probably get some money from Dave in a divorce, but it wouldn't be enough to sustain the lifestyle she had become accustomed to and, indeed, deserved.

The shame of being dumped for another woman and ending up back at her parent's house was just too much to take.

Wrapping a fleece throw around her slender shoulders, Cheryl nodded in time with her thoughts.

There's only one solution
, she thought coldly.
I'll have to kill him.

***

For the next week, Cheryl kept up appearances. She told no-one of Dave's affair and continued to play the part of a devoted loving wife with public displays of affection and stories of marital bliss with anyone she encountered.

Dave must have wondered about the email because Cheryl had caught him staring at her oddly now and then. The day she'd found the email, Dave had returned home looking like a whipped dog, and had seem surprised and delighted when she not only did she not mention any emails, but she served his favourite meal at tea time with a bottle of his favourite wine.

Barely managing to control the rage within her, Cheryl planned Dave's death with precision and dedication, leaving no angle unexamined.

Not only would she keep everything after Dave's death, but she would also inherit a sizeable life insurance.

The evening before Dave's planned death, Cheryl allowed him to make love to her. She looked into his eyes and gasped with pleasure as she ran through her plan one more time. She wrapped her legs around him and cried out as the strength of her orgasm swept her away.

Her body still tingling as she laid her head on Dave's chest, Cheryl smiled tiredly.

Dave's own weakness would be his downfall, the cause of his death.

Cheryl had put her murderous plan into action the day after learning of his affair. Such a simple plan, it was the perfect murder.