The Confession

The Confession

By

Jeanette Muscella

Copyright © 2015 Jeanette Muscella

ISBN: 978-1-4951-7580-0

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Chapter 1

1986

***John***

I can’t believe she fucking married him. I am so angry I want to hurt someone. How could she do this to me? How could she choose him over me?

Get over it dude. There are plenty of other women out there for you to feed on. Find someone else to fuck.

I want to ram my fist down his fucking throat. He doesn’t understand how I feel. I don’t want someone else. I want her, and now that she has a husband, she wants us to be friends. She always invites me over for dinner. I hate seeing them together. She hangs all over him. It makes me want to puke!

Why are you so hung up on this girl? Jake asked me for the thousandth time.

I still love her Jake. I don’t know what to do. I know she doesn’t love me, but I can’t get her out of my mind. I know I fucked up with the drugs. That’s why she left me. I’ve tried dating other women, but I haven’t been with anyone in over a year.

Wow, you seriously need to get laid! What can I do to help you?

What can he do to help me? I think about this for several minutes. I know what I want to do. Do I have the balls to do it? Hell yes, I can do it. I’m pissed off and I want revenge. I have to plan this correctly. I need something to make her amenable if you get my meaning.

What do you have in mind?

I need something that will fuck up her memory. I have a score to settle, and then I’ll walk away.

Ok, dude. I have to call my supplier. Do you really want to go down this road? You could mess up her mind if you give her too much.

I don’t want to hurt her. I told her I was in love with her, and she laughed in my face. She said, I never told you I loved you. We have been friends for a long time. I don’t think of you that way."

I have to go over to their apartment to a birthday party tonight. My balls are aching. I just want a piece of her pussy, and I want her agreeable when I fuck her. Will this drug wipe her memory?

A friend of mine slipped it into some girl’s drink at a club. She was out of it, and to this day, she has no memory of what happened to her that night.

I can feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, but I have to push down the guilt. I’m too angry to give a shit about remorse. Perfect. I need one night with her before I walk away. I don’t want her remembering anything.

I hang outside the bar for a few minutes while my friend Jake calls his supplier. Several minutes later, he exits the bar. Hey buddy; can you get what I need?

Yeah, I’ll have it for you in an hour. Where do you want to meet?

Meet me at the park on Tasker Street.

***Her***

I planned a special dinner for my husband’s twenty-eighth birthday. I’m not a great cook, and it took me all day to prepare the meal. He calls me at four o’clock to tell me he can’t make dinner. I’m upset and frustrated.

It’s your birthday. Why do you have to work, tonight of all nights? I’m sick and tired of being alone. I never see you, and the one night I make a special dinner, you are on call? I hate this, and I hate you. Why did I marry you? I knew I upset him and he let me know it.

Why did you marry me? What are you saying? Do you want a divorce? I am working my ass off to make a better life for us. I don’t need this bullshit. I work sixty fucking hours a week and all you do is whine and complain about how lonely you are! Why are you breaking my balls about working late?

He’s so angry. I have to calm down. I don’t want to fight with him. I can hear the stress in his voice. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I am in such a foul mood. I miss you. I do understand.

I’m sorry I snapped at you, honey. I’m exhausted. I haven’t slept in twenty-four hours. I just want to come home and fall into bed.

Please, try to take a nap. I worry about you.

I’ll try, but I doubt I will get more than a few hours. Please be patient honey. I love you.

I love you too.

When I hang up the phone, I look around our little apartment. I have spent so much time alone lately and I feel neglected. I call John, knowing he’ll have some dickhead response. I worry about him. His substance abuse is getting worse. I’m afraid to say anything to him. It’s really none of my business.

Can you believe he has to work tonight? I made a special dinner, bought a nice bottle of wine, and he waits until the last minute to call me. His parents will be here in a few minutes expecting to see him. What am I going to tell them?

Well, you have two options. One: Cancel the dinner. That will get you a lecture, as I am sure they will bend you ear for a good hour. Two: Suffer through dinner and save the wine for when everyone leaves. I will stay and help you polish off the bottle. We can watch a movie, and I’ll make popcorn. You know, sometimes he gets on my last nerve. You’d think he could walk on water.

Do I hear a hint of envy in your voice John?

Not envy baby doll, anger. You had been my girlfriend before he took you from me. Hell no, I’m not jealous of him. I feel sorry for him. He tries so hard to please everyone. Evidently, he dropped the ball with you. Why did you marry him? Do you love him? Tell me the truth.

Why does he do this to me? He needs to get over the fact that I married someone else. I never loved him, and he is really starting to piss me off! Why would you ask me that question? I love my husband, and I don’t appreciate the third degree. Are you still angry with me for ending our relationship? I thought you understood I considered you a good friend. I hear the anger in your voice.

There is no way I am admitting I still love you. No, I’m not angry. We have been friends for a long time. Let’s get through dinner, and then we’ll have our own private party.

Ok. I like the sound of that. Dinner is at seven. Do not be late. I want them out of here by ten.

***John***

I’m nervous and pace the sidewalk outside her apartment. My moral compass has doomed me to the fiery pits of hell and I don’t care. My hand fingers the bag of drugs in my pocket. I already snorted a few lines of cocaine, which took the edge off my nerves. I’m starting to have second thoughts about doing this to her. As I am walking away from her apartment, I see my parents. It’s too late to back out now.

I sit through probably the worse meal I’ve had in a long time. The chicken is dry, and the vegetables overcooked. She really does suck at cooking, and her pretend to be a good little housewife act is getting old. I escape to the bathroom to snort another line. When I return to the kitchen, my mother is consoling her.

It’s ok honey. It takes time to learn how to cook. You’ve only been married for six months. Give it time. You’ll learn.

I don’t understand what happened. I followed the recipe. How hard can it be to cook a stupid chicken?

My mother laughs and the sound of her voice grates on my nerves. I watch my mom interact with her, and I get pissed off. She’s so patient and solicitous. Why can’t she be that way with me? Why does every conversation end in an argument? I can feel my father’s eyes on me. Does he know I’m high? Probably, and I don’t give a fuck.

Thank all that is holy when my father rises from the sofa and announces he’s tired. My parents finally leave and it’s just the two of us. Game on! I walk over and turn on the television. I scan the measly assortment of movies available and pick one that I like. I pop it in the VCR and sit on the sofa. She walks into the room with two glasses of red wine, my favorite. It will mix well with the cocaine.

How many times do you want to watch this movie? She asks me when she sits next to me. I resist the urge to reach out and touch her. My cock is already twitching in anticipation.

Hey, this is a classic, and I refuse to watch a chick flick. Suck it up and be quiet. As the night progresses, I switch from wine to beer. The buzz I had earlier is fading. I need another fix. I grab her empty glass and walk back to the kitchen to refill her drink. I make sure I fill it to the brim. I take the bag from my pocket and drop two pills into her wine. I snort another line of coke while I wait for the pills to dissolve. She made me do this, I think to myself as I feel the coke hit my system. I’m angry and this will end tonight. I’ll walk away from her after I get what I want. She will give it to me, even if I have to force it from her. I walk back to the living room and give her the wine.

This will be my last glass of wine John. I’m feeling buzzed and I don’t want to be drunk when he gets home. You’ll have to leave soon. I’m getting tired.

Sure, I’ll leave when the movie is over. Drink your wine, and I’ll be out of here by midnight.

I try not to be obvious as I watch her drink the wine. How long will it take before the drug starts working? I have no idea, and I’m trying not to freak out. It takes several minutes and finally she drops her head onto the back of the sofa. I feel dizzy, she says to me. I don’t know what wrong with me. I feel… I hear her words slurring. Her eyes are glassy. I reach out to touch her thigh. God, her skin feels so soft. It surprised me when she grabs my hand and thrusts it between her legs.

Oh, I want you to touch me.

Is she talking about me? I can’t be sure. I kneel in front of her and spread her legs. I push her dress up and over her thighs. I want to see what she’s wearing under her dress. Damn, she’s wearing pink lace panties. I grab her legs and pull her to the edge of the cushion. As my thumbs trace along the band of her panties, I pull them down and off her body. I spread her legs and bury my face in her pussy. Her scent is fresh and feminine. Her skin is soft and her taste sweet. She opens her eyes and blinks several times as she tries to focus on the face that is now between her thighs.

She reaches out and runs her fingers through my hair. Her nails scratch my scalp and my cock twitches. That’s right baby, I am going to fuck you all night long. Keep your legs spread for me, baby. Let me taste you.

I feel her trying to sit up. She is staring at me. She knows it’s not him with his face in her pussy. She pulls my hair in an attempt to push me away from her. Her words are slurred. She’s telling me no, she doesn’t want me to touch her. After a weak attempt to get me off her, she closes her eyes and I feel her body relax.

It’s too late bitch. You deserve what I’m going to give you. I grab the top of her dress and rip it off her body. I’m staring down at alabaster skin, and perfect breasts. I’m beyond the point of no return. I reach down to free my cock, lift her from the sofa, and carry her to the bedroom. I don’t want to fuck her in their bed, but the urge to sink balls deep is too strong. I pulled her to the edge of the bed, grab a condom and take what I want, rough and fast.

Why did you leave me? I growl between thrusts. This is wrong. I know it’s wrong, but I can’t stop now. My balls drew up quickly and when I come, I feel…nothing. I thought I would feel something. I wrap up again and go slow this time. She’s slipping in and out of consciousness, and I feel like a stalker. I pull out, tied the condom and collapsed next to her. I’ve had too much alcohol and cocaine, and I feel sick. I look over and she is lying motionless next to me. I panic and reach out to feel her pulse, which is steady but a little slow. Did I give her too much? Her soft hair is a tangled mess, and her makeup smeared from my roughness. I can’t focus on her face. My head is spinning. I close my eyes and drift off into oblivion.

I awoke to a dark room. Fuck, my head feels like it is in a vice. It takes a minute for my eyes to focus and I realize I am still in their bed. Shit, it’s four in the morning. I quickly dress and bend down to pick up the empty condom wrappers from the floor, and emptied the wastebasket next to the bed. I shove everything into my pocket and run for the door. I turn one last time to look at her, and that’s when I see her eyes staring at me. I am so fucked it’s not funny.

***Her***

I awake in the early hours of the morning with a terrible hangover. What time is it? I roll over and stare at the clock. It is four in the morning. The light is on in the bedroom and I see John turning around to look at me. He is partially dressed! Why is he in my bedroom? I panic when I realize I’m naked under the sheet. The last thing I remember is watching a movie with John. I scream at him. What are you doing in my bedroom? The look he is giving me scares me. He looks angry.

You had no problem with me being in your bedroom last night when I fucked you. Why question me now?

I stare at him as his words sink in. I can’t remember what happened last night. That’s not possible. I would never cheat on my husband.

I watch as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out three tied condoms. This is evidence that I did fuck you, and you enjoyed it. You screamed my name and begged for more. Why deny it now?

I sit up, not realizing that the sheet is no longer covering my naked body. Get the fuck out of my apartment. If my husband sees you, he will kill you. Get out now!

He’s laughing at me, and the sound of his voice makes me sick. Deny it all you want to bitch. I have to say you were a shitty fuck. Do you satisfy your husband? He laughs again and walks towards the door. Turning, he says to me, I want you out of my life. Let’s not pretend we are one big happy family. You know how I feel about you, and you brushed me off as if I was dirt under your shoes. You never gave me a chance. I’m done with you, he says as he slams the bedroom door.

My mind is racing as I try to comprehend what just happened. What did I do that would make him so angry with me? I never said I loved him. Did he do this to get back at me? Why would he do this to me? I can’t remember what happened last night. Why can’t I remember? I start to hyperventilate and I pass out.

When I try to get out of bed to grab my bathrobe, the room begins to sway. I feel disoriented and open the window to air out the room, hoping the fresh air will clear my head. I am sweating profusely and feel dizzy. Bile rises in my throat, and I fall onto the bed. I struggle to regain my footing and stumble into the bathroom when I feel the sudden wave of nausea. Leaning over the toilet, I empty what remains in my stomach.

He hears my retching as soon as he enters our apartment. He finds me curled up on the bathroom floor. Honey, what happened? Are you sick?

Unable to speak, I just nod my head. He picks me up off the floor and carries me back to the bedroom. He gently lays me on the bed and covers me with a sheet. What happened?

Looking up at him hurts my eyes. I cover them with my forearm. I think I had too much drink last night, and probably ate too much. I feel awful.

I’ll get you something for nausea. He returns a few minutes later carrying a bottle of liquid antacid. Drink some of this while I make you a cup of tea. I stayed in bed for the next two days wondering what happened to me.

***John***

How long have I been sleeping? What day is it? I stumble out of bed and turn on the television. It’s Tuesday! I’ve been sleeping for two days! It didn’t take long for remorse to slam into me. How could I do it? Do I really hate them so much I would hurt her? I know I hurt her. I committed a crime for fucks sake. If she remembers, I could go to prison. I pray she never remembers what happened between us. What I said to her was horrible. As I stumble out of bed, I grab my jeans from the floor and empty the pockets. There were three condom wrappers in my pocket, and I counted three used condoms. My heart leaped in my chest when I noticed one of them has a hole in it. When did this happen? Did I rip it when I shoved them into my pocket? I can’t remember.

The next few days pass in a blur. I feel like a robot. I go to work, come home, and hide in my apartment. I don’t answer the phone. I can’t face my family. I can’t handle the guilt. Several days pass and I feel like I am suffocating. I need to find absolution. I know of only one place where I can beg for forgiveness.

I feel like a hypocrite as I open the church doors. The church is empty so I walk over to the confessional and push back the curtain. I kneel before the screen and bless myself. "Bless me, Father,