Dressed in black again, I prepared my acting skills. “Perhaps I should go with the quiet, and then burst out crying scene, I haven’t used that technique in a while” I thought to myself while waiting at the funeral home in a taxi. As I looked out the car window, I saw an unfamiliar face- the face of a handsome young man, and by looks of it, very wealthy too. He had chiseled features and short light brown hair. I whistled quietly as I noted the Rolex watch one his wrist, and expensive fitted suit he wore. I got out of my car, and purposefully bumped into the man. Sniffling, I looked back slightly and said “Oh! I’m so sorry”, and then quickly walked away. This gave them a feeling of curiosity, and gets them to come back for more. I finally realized that I had found my next project.

         I found a seat in the front of the church, away from another one of my recent late husband’s family. I usually thought of how my father died to get the waterworks flowing. I remember that day like no other. I came home from school and found police cars in front of our house. I tried to walk in the front door, but my mother stopped me and said tearfully “Carol, it’s your father…he was killed”. I remembered the sadness that came over me. It must have been a feeling similar to how Romeo felt when he thought Juliet was dead, except my father really was gone. Since then I swore that if my father, a good man, had to die, then certainly all other men deserved to die. After my father died, my mother then fell into a deep pit of drugs and alcohol abuse. Ever since then, I always swore to never be like her. She kept saying the same thing over and over again, “That was the tenth one, no more for me right now, that was the tenth one”. I always thought she was talking about a bottle or pill, but ten of either of those never seemed to be enough, which seemed ironic to me at the time.
          After the funeral, the man from earlier came up to me. “You’re the late Mrs. Richardson, right?” he asked. “Y-Yes but please, call me Carol, and you are?” I asked while continuing to sniffle. “I’m Eric, I was and old friend of your late husband, do you need a ride home, you look a bit shaken up?” He replied. “Oh thank you, a ride home would be nice” I easily answered. We got to my house, and I poured some wine for the two of us. We ended up talking all night, and I gave him my number. The next week he called and asked me to join him for a dinner date, and I accepted. “Gotcha”, I said to myself, after hanging up the phone. At the time it seemed a little odd that he asked me out so suddenly after my late husbands death. However, I disregarded the thought.
          As time went on, I actually started to feel something towards Eric. I repeatedly told myself to keep it together, but it was no use. “I’m in love with him” I thought, I guess this is what all of the other 15 men felt towards me before I killed them.” Two weeks after my newly discovered feeling, and quite suddenly, Eric proposed to me. We decided to get married in a week, and before I knew it, I was getting ready, standing in my wedding dress, looking in the mirror once again. It was a white, silk, loose, empire waist dress with beading on the top.  I had always used the same dress for sentimental reasons, but this might have been the last time I had to wear it.
        After the wedding was over, we arrived at our hotel. I was so happy, I never thought that I could fall in love with a man besides my father before. “How about some champagne?” Eric asked. “Great idea!” I said as I walked towards the champagne. I was facing away from Eric while opening the bottle, so it was no surprise that I didn’t see him coming with the rope. I felt a choking pain in my throat. I had been outplayed by my own kind. Only then did I realize what “That was the tenth one, no more for me right now, that was the tenth one” really meant. I had turned into my mother, who I had sworn never to be like. We were both black widows.