Tigers Are Deadly

October 18, 2010
By Anonymous

My name is Elle Miretto, and last year I murdered my husband.
You may be wondering how I’m even writing this in the first place. Well, you see, I haven’t been caught.
I'm a zookeeper at the Central Park Zoo. I am an environmentalist, and an animal rights activist. Whereas my husband, excuse me, EX-husband, is a rich New York City lawyer. You may wonder what's wrong with me? Why did I do it? Do I do drugs? Am I crazy? No. I'm just sick of it. Sick and tired of him. His name was Steven. Steven Miretto.
It started the day I met him. February 14, 1999. Yeah, it was Valentine's Day. I was out at this bar alone. My boyfriend had recently broken up with me and I was a wreck. A man named Steven walked in, and sat beside me. He was goregous; clean shaven, dark clean cut hair, and goregous blue eyes. We sat in silence for awhile and he offered to buy me a drink. I gratiously accepted, and we started to talk. He seemed okay enough, he was a pretty interesting guy. He was there that night because his girlfriend had gone missing recently. The police had looked everywhere for her but never found her. There wasn't any evidence that she had been killed, so they figured she had fled the country. He'd gone to Harvard Law, and graduated with a 4.0. He had worked almost everywhere from Tokeyo to Paris, and he had always promised we could travel the world together someday. It was like something out of a fairytale. I was a girl who had grown up in a small rural town, and had found this seemingly perfect guy. He adored me, he was handsome, charming, and very wealthy. That was amazing while it lasted. About three years after we met, he asked me to marry him, I accepted, and we got married on Valentine's Day, the anniversary of when we'd met. It was like my own little Cinderella story. Until I found out how he really was.
He was a workaholic. The working made him so stressed, and he would drink away his problems. He'd come home drunk almost every night, and beat me until I had bruises. I'd tried to leave on multiple occasions, but he always found me and brought me back. The attempts always came with consequences. He stopped paying for my cell phone, I couldn't contact anyone because we didn't have a home phone. He would check my emails, so that I couldn't hide anything from him. Steven kept me under constant surveliance, except for when he was working. One day, while he was at his firm, I snuck out. He didn't notice this time, because I came back. I met another man, his name was Chris. He wasn't rich like Steven, but he was amazing. He was tall, muscular, and had medium length blonde hair, with emerald green eyes. We agreed to meet the next day, and I drove home before Steven would notice that I was gone. That evening, he came home drunk again. This time, he was even more drunk than usual. I snapped at him. I told him that I could find someone better, and he told me that I was stuck with him. That night, he raped me. The next day I went out and met Chris, and I told him about what Steven had done, and how horrible he was. Chris told me that he'd never do that to me, and he leaned over and kissed me, and then again, and again. I loved it. I was happy with him. I decided that I needed to find a way to get rid of Steven. But two weeks later, I found out I was pregnant. I'd always wanted kids, just not his kid. I know I'm a horrible person, but I tried to kill the baby. I drank, I smoked, I did everything in my power to try and hurt it. Steven was working every day. He went to work early in the morning, and came back late at night drunk. Every day I would sneak out to meet Steven at this little Bistro, and every day I felt more sure that he was right for me. Months later, in the middle of the night, I went into labor. The pain was excruciating, and my efforts had failed. It was a perfectly healthy little baby girl. I named her Delila. Steven didn't care at all about the child. We made her a room and bought her everything she needed. She and Chris were the only good things in my life. I hated Steven with a passion, my life was a tornado, and there was no way out. Then to make matter's worse, Steven caught me with Chris. He had a lunch meeting, and he came to the bistro. He saw me with Chris. When he got home that night he ordered security cameras to watch me, so he could tell if I left the house. He was so angry and drunk that he ran in and murdered Delila. I bawled, and he beat me. I knew then that I needed to find some way to escape. I needed some way to still see Chris. I decided to get a job. I loved animals, so I decided to apply as a zookeeper. I told Steven, and he approved, saying more money would be a good thing. I worked as a volunteer at first, and eventually applied for a paid job. I wrote a letter to Chris, and said that I had begun working at the Central Park Zoo, and that he should come visit. Weeks passed and he never did... I begun to think that he might never... That he had moved on... I was heartbroken. I began to work more and more hours to avoid being with Steven. Plus, being with the animals kept my mind off of Delila and Chris. Months passed, and one day a man walked up to me while I was tending to the tigers. He had a blonde beard, and shaggy blonde hair to match. Plus, he had these stunning emerald eyes. I stared at him and asked if I could help him. The man just stared at me, and then kissed me passionatly. I realized it was Chris. I asked him where he had been. He said that he had gone to California, to visit his family. He had come back because he couldn't stay away from me any longer. I realized that I wanted to spend my life with him. I realized there was some way I could get rid of Steven.
When I applied to work at the zoo, I had to write a paper on one of the animals in order to get the job. I had written mine on tigers because they were my favorite. I remembered something interesting I had learned... The whiskers of tigers have microscopic barbs along the entire lenth of the hair. If someone were to eat them, the barbs would snag on the intestinal walls and cause infections that cannot be cured...
I had to do it. I knew it wasn't right. Then again, what's best isn't always what's right. While the tigers were asleep, I went in and collected some whiskers that they had shed. I cut one of them up and placed it in Steven's dinner. I did the same for the next five days... He told me he was having really horrible abdominal pains, and so I rushed him to the emergency room. I knew at that point, that there was no turning back, I was a murderer. The doctors said that it was bleeding intestinal ulcers, and just gave him tons of antibiotics. I knew it wouldn't have any effect... For two to three months he would suffer, and then it would be over...
Just as I said, 3 months later, he passed away. They preformed an autopsy. They didn't know what it really was... They blamed it on massive intestinal ulcers. So I was free to go. I went and found Chris, and told him that Steven had passed away. He told me that he'd be right back, and he ran into his house. He came out and had a small box in his hand. He proposed to me. I kissed him, and accepted. We didn't have a big wedding, it was just us. We moved into my mansion, and lived happily ever after. Or so that's what everyone thinks... including Chris. Now you know the truth, the whole truth. My name is Elle Miretto, and last year I murdered my husband.

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