Bob's Story

There is only so much disrespect a man can take and remain a man, at least in his own eyes. As I stared into the smirking face, I had reached my limit.

Rattling the handcuffs keeping me in the chair, I said with all the bile in me, "Run. That's my answer. Not yes, not no. Just run. You're remaining life expectancy is measured in minutes." His smirk faded from his face as he stepped back.

"Hey, you aren't man enough, little man. I want this. She wants this. This is going to happen. So you can either watch, or not. Your choice, but when I let you go, you're either out the door, or sitting."

I looked over at my soon to be ex-wife and saw the fear that came over her face when she realized how wrong she had been with her guess as to my choice of 'allowing' her this indiscretion. She knew, to use the old euphemism that her father had said repeatedly over the years I'd known him, and probably all her life, 'She done fucked up.' How she could have ever thought I'd allow this, or to accept this ambush attack, I'll never know.

"Uncuff me. I'll leave the room." I said through clenched teeth. The fool stepped forward, his smirk returned.

"Ah, too little pride to see how a real man fucks a woman, eh? No problem, cuck. I'll let you have her back when I've made her scream for more of me." He dropped the keys in my lap and stepped back while I unlocked my wrists. It didn't matter the blood dripping from my arms, the skin torn. All that I felt was rage, and adrenaline. I stood, taking a look at the now shaking form of my wife. She hiccuped at that moment, something she did when she was nervous or afraid. Her shoes off, her blouse open, her short skirt bunched enough that I could see her teal green panties. I had always until now loved that look, the sexy-secretary-greeting-her-lover look she was pushing. But until now, that look had always, to my knowledge, been just for me.

Shaking my head in disgust, I ignored the towering form of her boss, the soon to be deceased John Brown, standing by the bed, and walked out the door.

I could hear arguing even as I walked down the hall coming from the room. Perhaps Sue was changing her mind, hoping it wasn't too late. It was too late, of course, but it didn't matter because Brown wouldn't let her. The fact she was arguing didn't hold weight with me; she had been the one to put the cuffs on me, she'd been the one to let the viper into our nest.

I walked down the hall even as I heard her get more frantic with their argument. I finally made out her words, "He's going to kill us. You don't know him." I guess she did know me a little in the end. Too little, too late, though. I could even hear her screaming into the phone, "He's going to kill me!"

Turning at the den, I walked over to my desk and pulled out the lock box. I don't remember keying in the combination. One moment the lockbox was in my hands, the next my Glock was there.

I could hear movement and Sue's crying as she tried to run to the door. I heard the door open, even as I heard Brown yelling she "owed him". The person that she owed anything to was me, and she was taking my advice.

He was not.

"The cuck's not going to do anything! Sue, get your ass back here. Sue! Sue!" I heard him calling from the front room. "I'm going to beat the hell out of that asshole for scaring my pussy off!"

Oh yeah, I'm the asshole. Only in his world.

I was nearly on him when the door came open, with a figure clearly holding a gun outlined against the bright street light into the dark room.

He saw me standing behind Brown, my Glock pointing down, but forward, and swung his gun towards us. I hesitated.

Brown did not. He pulled his revolver and shot the silhouette. Perhaps he thought it was me, or maybe just training, when he saw a gun.

I reacted immediately.

So, yes, officer, I did it. I shot the Sheriff. But I did not shoot the Deputy.