Anthony had really grown to hate everything about his wife, Samantha. Hate is such a strong word but it truly defines his passion against his wife. Samantha freely spent his paycheck at the mall with the rest of the dentist’s wives.
She argued and threw her arms when having to prepare his breakfast each morning, which she served either raw or burnt; Anthony could no longer name one admirable characteristics about his wife. He is at the point in his life where he doesn’t even understanding the reason he said, “I do.”
"“You want me to get up every morning to make you breakfast, and you can’t even cook dinner for me, you’re a silly joke, she would yell, “I don't understand why you can't cook this damn breakfast yourself; you're just going to work!"
The thought of working herself had never crossed Samantha’s mind, for the couple lived in complete luxury. Their house was referred to as the "Mansion of Fire" by neighbors in the community because of its unique red brick, sat atop an out-of-the-way hill overlooking the city and was encircled by a pond of foreign fish. He knew Samantha would never thought about running across town in heels looking for a job, and she knew it, too.
Still, despite the financially secure life that Anthony's career as a Dentist provided, she never missed an opportunity to complain about something. About everything if it’s possible!
Anthony had tried to tune her out whenever she began to complain to him about work. She would say that, “Anthony you’re always tired and coming home late.” They had now been married for almost two decades, although Anthony was unsure as to how he managed to deal with Samantha’s selfish attitude for that long. He often wondered how different his life would be if the two were to be divorced, but he was scared - scared of starting over, scared of being alone.
Anthony believed the opportunity to leave his wife was gone. The door to a satisfying life, where he could be appreciated by a woman he loved, had been slammed shut and locked. He felt stuck with Samantha forever and forever is a long time.
The fact that he had buried their time together deep in the recesses of his mind would often result in a slap to the back of the head when the topic would arise during dinner parties.
"What the hell you mean you DON'T KNOW how long we've been married?" she would yell in a high, high pitch.
The couple that had asked the seemingly innocent question would have to excuse themselves from the conversation, as Samantha would continue to yell until they retrieved their coats from the coat room hours later.
As a young couple, the coat room had served as a place to feel up one another once they had become drunk. But that part of their life, the intimacy, the romance, was over now, and it had been over for quite some time.
The dinner parties, which were attended by only the wealthy couples of the community, served as Samantha’s "night on the town." For Anthony, though, he chose to separate himself from the conversations about golf swings and salary bonuses, finding them rather meaningless. Instead, he would watch his wife as she made her way around the dining area like a kid that wanted candy, joining her uninformed and unvalued opinion into conversations.
He was embarrassed at how superior she believed herself to be, pirouetting about the room, her big figure and black and gray hair swaying from one side to the other. While others would become ill from the alcohol that flowed freely, or from the foreign dishes the caterers would prepare, Anthony had his wife.
It was the evening of one particular party that Anthony had become completely enraged by Samantha. He was unsure what caused this sudden fire burning within: the verbal abuse he received for misplacing the address and phone number of the host, or prior to that, when his sexual advances had been turned down, causing an argument that threatened his attendance at the party, altogether. Perhaps it was a combination of both events, serving as the last piece of bullets compacted into a shot gun that was ready to explode at any moment. Anthony did not care to think why it happened, but it happened. Samantha had pushed Anthony over the edge. She was so disgusting drunk it was ridiculous.
During the forty minute drive to the party, not much was said between the couple. Samantha complained and fidgeted with the radio, finding no station that satisfied her childish musical taste, while Anthony appeared to day dream in his own thoughts. He tried to envision asking Samantha for a divorce, but knew that the years of psychological abuse would not be erased by a folder of legal documents. She would still find a way to make his life miserable, whether she lived with him or not.
He needed closure from Samantha, for their marriage felt like a lengthy novel that he had wanted to finish, but could never find the energy. As the couple walked up the host's driveway, Anthony glanced at Samantha and then down at the blue stone beneath his feet. There was only one way to satisfy the contempt bottled within. He knew it to be the only sure option to get rid of Samantha from his life forever. While driving home from the party, Anthony would murder his wife.
Darkness seemed to take over Anthony's body as he entered the party and greeted the guests, many of whom noticed on how free-spirited he appeared. His shoulders, usually tense and hunched over, were relaxed, while the lines in his forehead that made him seem much older were visibly absent. Throughout the evening, he listened in on several conversations and even offered a few opinions of his own that had gone over well with the other doctors. At one point, Anthony had even gone so far as to put his arm around the neck of Samantha while the hired pianist played for the party."Is that Chopin?" asked one guest.
"No, no. It has to be Beethoven, but I'm not sure which score," added another.
Holding Samantha close and curving his upper lip, Anthony spoke.
"The first was right," he proclaimed. "It's Chopin's 'Funeral March.' It's such a beautiful song. I could just get lost in it forever, It remind me of my wife’s eyes."
With that, Anthony seemed to drift from the party and its guests. He extended his left arm and pointed it toward the pianist, holding it in place for several minutes. He then leaned over and kissed Samantha gently on the cheek. It was an act of intimacy that the couple had not experienced for several months. She seemed startled at first, unsure of how to react, but soon gave a smile in his direction. They both looked like a happy couple.
Soon after midnight, the party began to dwindle in size. Several couples had decided to leave, because of early work meetings and highway traffic to end the long night. Anthony had not glanced at his watch during the entire evening, as would be common for him on such occasions. Instead, he watched Samantha make her way around the room as she always did, clumsily weaving in and out of guests' conversations. His eyes, now sunken and bloodshot, rarely moved away from her.
Anthony clenched his hands tightly and felt all the blood in his body rush toward his head. He envisioned jumping over the caterer's table to secure a large carving knife as the pianist ferociously played Chopin, each key in sync with his quick strides about the dining hall. He tried to picture Samantha’s terrified expression as he lunged forward and tackled her to the floor. He felt the coarse hands of the male guests as they attempted to pull him off of her cruel and cold body.
Coming out of his day dream, Anthony knew that a plan so involved could not be executed in this type of environment. A person, or group of persons, would be sure to try to stop the knife before it reached Samantha. He decided to wait until the ride home, where theywould be alone.
The couple was the last of the guests to leave the party, with Anthony politely refusing the hosts' attempts to have them stay the night. Samantha, intoxicated and stumbling toward the car, decided to question her husband's cheerful disposition, which was made noticeable to her by most of the guests.
"Why were you...so happy tonight?" she slurred. "Are...are you drunk? I don't want you driving if you can't even see straight! Gimme the damn keys!"
"I'm not drunk, Sam, just leave me the hell alone!," Anthony barked loudly.
The pleasured state that Anthony habited during the party immediately disappeared. It was as if he had been placed under hypnosis for the entire evening, with Samantha’s voice serving as the loud trigger to bring him back. His face became a dark shade of crimson and two thick veins protruded out of his neck. Breathing heavily, he jammed the key into the ignition and sped off.
"What's wrong with you, HUH? Answer me...NOW!" Samantha whined.
Anthony said nothing. His eyes were fixed on the country road that rarely saw any vehicles that time of night. As Samantha’s yelling grew even louder, he knew that the opportunity was here. The moment to become a free man was now. With both hands firmly grasped on the steering wheel, he jerked the automobile to the side of the dark road. Without hesitation, Anthony lunged to the side, grabbing her neck with his right hand while using the other to pin down her arms. Unable to free herself from the safety belt, she desperately tried to loosen her husband's grip, but grew weaker by the second.
She was able to let out only a few words during her struggle for air.
"Why are you doing this?" she pleaded.
"Why? WHY? You've ruined my life, that's why!" shouted Anthony. "You nag and b**** and complain that everything I do is wrong, wrong, wrong! Well, you know what? You were right! Everything I did in the past was wrong...but this...this is the first right thing I've ever done!"
With that, Anthony's grip tightened. He appeared to be possessed as his sweaty palms clenched her throat. Samantha’s face had begun to turn a shade of bright purple, similar to a lilac during the first week of spring. Her efforts to fight him off now stopped. Only her eyes seemed alive, for they remained fixed on him as he continued to strangle her. He felt them, felt their cold stare on his body. He squeezed even harder. She was dead.
Anthony released his hands from her lifeless body. Samantha’s head quickly fell to the side, slamming against the passenger window. The car was complete silent. He deiced to continue on his trip to home.
As he drove Anthony didn’t know what he got himself into. Now he started to panic and hyper ventilate. Looking at his wife dead body, he went into shock. In his state of shock, he couldn’t move, speak, react, or anything. He seen the big semi truck headed right towards him .He just let it happen. He knew he didn’t want to spend the rest of his life in jail. So there they were sitting in the car dead.