I’m not a murderer.
Okay, technically I am. But when I imagine somebody being a murderer, I imagine something different. I imagine somebody evil, who goes around killing good people for no reason.
I killed my fiancé, Cody. But he wasn’t a good person.
We were supposed to get married in two months. Two months! The wedding invitations had gone out already. I had plastered photos of me holding up my gorgeous diamond ring all over Instagram. We had already registered at half a dozen places and some of the gifts had even come in already.
Then I found out Cody was sleeping with my best friend, Alexis.
Do you know what it feels like when someone betrays you like that? The love of my life and my best friend. Going at it like rabbits. Right under my nose, because they thought I was too stupid to find out about it. And I might not have—if that text message from Alexis didn’t pop up on Cody’s phone while he was in the bathroom. Yes, they were that careless.
I knew the code to his phone, and I typed it in the next night, while he was sleeping. I found out Alexis and Cody had been messing around together since shortly after the engagement. That it was serious. He was planning to break off the engagement to be with her, but he was worried about how I might take it.
She’s not the most stable person in the world, he wrote to her.
That was unfair. I was stable. Anyone would have cracked if they found out that their fiancé was thinking about ending their engagement to be with her best friend only two months before the wedding. I can’t imagine anything more humiliating than that. I would have had to call all my guests and explain that the wedding was off, and of course, many of them would ask what happened, and I’d have to lie and say we just weren’t right for each other. But of course, everyone online would be whispering about it.
So nobody could blame me for doing what I did. Honestly, anyone in a similar situation probably wishes they had done what I did.
Alexis was probably snickering to herself when I told her about the cabin Cody and I rented, which had an extra two bedrooms. Why don’t you and Megan come along? I suggested.
I had to invite Megan, even though she hadn’t technically done anything wrong. It would’ve been suspicious if I only invited Alexis. And to be fair, I never liked Megan much. She was one of those people who always put everyone down every chance she got. The world is better off without her. Trust me.
I brought a bottle of tequila, some limes, and a salt shaker. I also brought a dime bag of weed. I made sure everyone in the room got good and wasted. I wouldn’t have a chance to take them all down otherwise. After all, it was one against three.
I picked a night when I knew it would rain. I was worried that if they didn’t see a fifth set of footprints, nobody would believe my story. But if it was raining, the soil all around the cabin turned to mud.
I had to do it one by one. I took care of Megan first, on the porch, because I didn’t want to draw that one out. I told her I needed to talk to her about something outside, and then the second we were in the woods, I took the knife out of my jacket and slashed her throat.
Cody was next. I did it right in the bed where we were sleeping. There was a moment after I stabbed him three times, just before he lost consciousness, when I whispered in his ear, That’s what you get for messing around behind my back. I wanted him to know why I did it—I wanted that to be his last thought before he died.
Then came Alexis. I was the angriest with her. She had been my best friend since we were five years old. How could she do it to me? I let her die slowly, bleeding all over the floor while she begged for help.
I was last. Nobody would believe my story if I were completely uninjured, so I read about where to place the knife to avoid serious injury. When I showed up at the police station, soaking wet and sobbing about the intruder in the cabin, most of the blood I was caked in wasn’t mine.
I played the part so well. Honestly, I deserve an Academy Award for that performance. My parents and sister never doubted for a moment that we had been a victim of a vicious attack by a psychopath in the woods. Only that awful detective suspected I might be lying, but he couldn’t prove it. As far as everyone was concerned, I was the victim.
No, I was a hero. Because I survived.
My mother was the one who insisted on the sessions with Dr. Hale. Dr. Hale is the best. And she always said nothing is more important than mental health.
So I agreed to go. And it was fun. Even though I wasn’t the victim of a psychopath in the woods, I was still traumatized by the entire experience. I mean, having to kill your boyfriend and your best friend does a number on your head, although it’s not like they left me with much of a choice. Dr. Hale knew just what to say though. And I sort of enjoyed the game by that point. The deception.
I had no clue she saw through my entire charade.
So you can imagine how I felt when she told me she was on to me. She mentioned recording our sessions at the beginning of therapy, and I think I even signed some sort of consent form. It didn’t seem like a big deal to me. But once she revealed what she knew, I thought back to all my sessions, mentally reviewing all my slip-ups.
I had to do what she asked of me. I had no choice.
