Rage

"Oh, please. You knew exactly what you were doing. Don't give me that shit. You're a grown woman and more than capable of speaking up. I didn't make you do anything you weren't already prepared to do."

The pressure in her jaw went through the roof and she contemplated any number of insults to hurl in return. A image flashed through her mind. She saw him doubled over on the floor from having been kicked in the balls. She debated making the fantasy a reality. But it was that last sentence that stung the most...the underlying truth of the evening laid bare in all its ugly glory.

Then she felt it. Cold air hit the stream running down her inner thigh. Some of it was her, but most of it was his. It was the last straw for her. The last straw in her descent into disgrace ands humiliation of her in the aftermath. She saw her heel, tossed onto its side a couple of feet away from her. She bent to pick it up and held it in her hand, weighing it and her options. She hesitated for the briefest second before sending it flying in his direction. She had intended to hit him in the back of the head as he had turned away from her, but at the last second he turned and the heel landed just above his left eye. She heard the thud and watched the shoe fall to the floor once again.

Philip cursed and immediately brought his hand to his face. Simone quickly scanned the room, looking for the other heel only to find it just under the couch. She went to reach for her next projectile when she felt a hand grab her by the hair with a strength she had not anticipated.

"You bitch," hissed an increasingly unfamiliar voice.

Anticipating his intentions and not willing to give him the chance to show her what he had planned for her, she reached up to grab the his wrist, holding it in place. Not skipping a beat, she pivoted on the balls of her feet, turned to him, and struck him immediately in the jaw with her fist. He let go out of sheer surprise and, using his shock to her advantage, proceeded to deliver a straight kick to his still exposed groin. Philip collapsed to his knees, spittle and curses flying from his mouth and onto the teak hardwood floor.

Simone braced herself for the next attack but noticed something was different about Philip as he stayed low, appearing to console himself. The olive tan skin she had once admired looked darker, almost the color of the hardwood he was kneeling on. It appeared in splotches around his body and appeared to be spreading, giving his skin a mottled look until it was barely recognizable. Muscles bulged and grew out of proportion with the frame she until recently been enjoying until his mass had all but doubled. Simone shook her head in disbelief. What was happening to him? Her feet involuntarily moved to put more distance between herself and whatever this, this...this thing was. Yet, in her move towards the door, she bumped into the furniture. The leg scraping the hardwood floor might as well have been her requiem bell.

The creature's head came straight up and a low, deep growl began deep in it's throat. It scanned the room, seeking out the disturbance and Simone saw the honey brown eyes were completely gone. The iris and the sclera black as pitch and beyond anything that could be called human. He...It? The creature formerly known as Philip finally set it's eyes on her, rooting her to the spot with one singular message that was so clearly communicated from those infinite pools: You're dead.

It's claws scraped against the floor as it rose, bracing itself in her direction. It's face distorted into a snarl, two elongated protrusions jutting out from its lower jaw reminding her of a wild boar and their thick razor sharp tusks. Simone knew he would charge at her, striking her soft belly and disemboweling her or hitting her jugular and letting her bleed out. If he could get his hands on her, he might just beat her to death or break her neck. The thought of watching her own intestines spill out of her body as she lay dying...the thought of her throat being ripped apart and feeling the life drain from her with every beat of her fading heart. The idea of her warm blood drenching every inch of her body. Her blood ran cold with each possible death scenario in a multiverse that screamed: Tonight is the night you die.

Time stopped. Simone did not want to die tonight. She would not be disemboweled, bleed to death, or be bludgeoned. Simone would decide when and how she would die. Tonight was not going to be that night.

Her options were limited. She wasn't familiar with her environment and therefore the layout of the apartment would be more of a liability than an asset. If she took a wrong turn, she might meet a dead end and then there would likely be no more Simone after that. No weapons either. Sizing him up, she knew she would not have the advantage in hand to hand combat. All he would need is one good hit and she'd be laid out and vulnerable. The only thing she could use was the element of surprise. After all, she told him she was a school teacher.

Before he could charge at her, she lunged for him. He was stronger but bigger and slower. If she could wear him out, make him sloppy or over confident, she could exploit it and possibly survive this nightmare. She got in close and began to land kicks and jabs, starting low but making a connection wherever she could. Dodge and strike. Keep moving and you get to keep breathing. Another combination and another dodge.

She finally saw an opportunity and landed a punch at the base of his left ear. His torso exposed, she threw her knee into it. He fell to his knee and for a moment Simone thought she had rung his bell. She had planned to punch his once more to put his down even further when his right hand arced out and up, connecting with the right side of her face and sending her flying into the bookshelf behind her. Sliding to the floor amongst the debris and completely disoriented, she thought twice about getting up. Tonight is not the night you die. Still dazed, she grabbed one of the shelves above her and pulled herself up. She watched him circle around to cut off any path of escape. She saw the window behind her but thought the chances of it being unlocked were slim to nil. But maybe she wouldn't need to. She slid towards it and considered how much force she would need to use to break the glass. This was her only chance and she would need to get him to run at her full speed.

"Fine, you want to kill me? Come and get me, you son of a bitch." The same low growl vibrated in his throat and he lowered his head like a dog waiting to attack. "Are you afraid now? You should be, you freak. What the hell are you? I knew you were anything but a decent human being before," she gestured wildly in his direction, "whatever this is. You're an animal, you're not a man. Throw responsibility on my shoulders for what happened? Fuck you! You gave in to what felt good, like the fucking pig you are. You're a monster but a fucking coward to boot." His eyes narrowed and he snarled and roared, taking one step towards her. No, she needed him to run at her. "You're scared of me? Asshole, you don't get to be scared of me after what you did to me. We finish this now." She began to pick up anything she could find to throw at him, from the heaviest books and pretty, heavy things that looked incredibly expensive. She then snatched a trophy that had yet to fall from the shelf and lobbed it at his head. The marbled base hit his left temple and that was the final blow. He was off his heels in a second, barreling straight towards Simone. She would have to time it just right.

She bent at the waist, dodging his clawed hands just in time. She threw her shoulder into his midsection and used his momentum to propel his body up, over her, and through the glass behind her. In a brief display of her own brute strength, he was gone. Falling down and away, the immediate threat against her became more and more distant until the body struck the pavement with a sickening thud. As she launched him over her, she could feel the heat of his rage against her skin. But she also remembered the man he was in those moments before they both lost their temper. If she were to look out onto the street now, would she see the monster, or the man he had once been?

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She watched the Uber drive away before turning towards the house. Her body had finally quit trembling during the car ride and she knew there would be a soreness in the morning that would cover her from head to toe. More than once she looked into the screen on her phone to see if that spot where the beast had hit her had started to bruise yet. The house was dark. Reaching into her purse, she withdrew a small golden band and slipped the cool metal onto her left ring finger. She prayed her husband was asleep. It would at least give her a few hours of rest before having to face the onslaught of questions regarding her condition.

Removing her shoes before stepping into the foyer, Simone had hoped to avoid making any noise that would draw attention to her. She didn't think she could stand to be seen the way she was and wanted nothing more to hop into the guest shower and let the hot water melt the aches and pain and mayhem and murder away for just one blessed night. She was no fool. Her DNA was all over that apartment. The bartender saw her leave with him just an hour before the incident. Though she was no cheerleader for the brain power of law enforcement, Simone knew the evidence was mounting against her with every passing minute.

And the motive? There was no motive. There were her juices on his couch. He went out the window completely naked. She would be all over his chin and fingers and cock. And he came inside her. Jesus christ, what if I get pregnant? Her hands went to her stomach. She had never been able to conceive with her husband. Something about his motility. Pregnant off a one-night stand whom she was then forced to kill because he was trying to kill her only after she provoked him. Why? Why had she reacted that way? She knew what was happening in the moment. She had to admit that now. She wanted him to fuck her that way. She wanted him inside her, nothing between them. She wanted him to spill every drop of his seed inside her, deep, balls deep. Pumping every ounce of his climax to join with hers.

And now he was dead.

All the sordid details would be released and everyone would know what Simone had done. Not the self-defense, because honestly, who would believe her when she explained this man transformed into a hideous berserker monster before her very eyes? No, they would classify her as a murderer. An adulteress, first, but also a murderer.

A light came on in the den which startled Simone. Staying quiet and attempting to move quickly towards the guest room, she heard a voice call out, "Babe, is that you?"

Fuck my life. She wouldn't be able to catch a break tonight. The tension returned with a visceral hatred for every muscle fiber in her body. Stretching her neck from side to side and trying to appear loose, she answered, "Yeah, hun. It's me. I'm sorry if I woke you."

"Could you come here please?"

Her eyebrows drew together. That was a first. He normally had nothing to say to her when she got home late because he was always passed out. "Um...yeah, let me just get cleaned up and brush my teeth and all that...it was a long night you kn—"

"It won't take long," came the voice from down the hall. He walked out of the den and stood in the hallway. "Please. I have something to show you." He gestured with his hand towards the spare room they both used as a home office.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck me and fuck my life. Shit.

She set her shoes down in the hallway and walked towards the den, still shrouded in the darkness that filled every corner of the house like a sentient, malevolent observer of both her guilt as well as the penance she would have to pay to absolve it.

Emerging from the darkness and slowly stepping into the light that spilled from the open den, her husband's face underwent a parade of emotions. Where initially there was utter calmness, it was now occupied by the face of man who barely recognized the person in front of him. His mouth opened but whatever answer he sought, the question went unasked. He knit his brows together, unsure of how to proceed and settled back on the look of tranquility...even if it was tinged with completed resignation this time. He dropped his gaze to his feet and heaved a sigh laden with a burden Simone could relate with too much.

Her first instinct? Lie.

"It was a client's husband. He didn't like what I had to tell his wife and things got out of hand."

The gaze rose from the floor and met her's with a fury matched only by the inhuman thing she encountered earlier that same night. He lifted his left hand and pointed to the floor in the study.

"You win."

Confused, she took one more step towards the door. Holding onto the door jamb, she looked at the images that had been printed out and strewn about the room, each one depicting her in an act of utter wantonness that paled in comparison to the next. For weeks, he'd had her followed. For weeks, he'd had someone chronicle her every move and every indiscretion. For weeks, or more, he had suspected she was being unfaithful and his first impulse? To not only catch her in the act but then to throw those very same acts back in her face as though she were some common whore. It was beyond the pale. It was beyond words. The gall...the unmitigated gall of this man to do this to her... Pain wracked her body but she showed none of it to him. She would not allow this pig of a man to see any weakness in her. How dare he attempt to belittle her when she could just as easily break his neck and tear him limb from limb?

She tore her eyes from the pictures and stared into his.

"How dare y—", he began but was cut-off when Simone's left hand shot out and away from the door jamb she had been clutching, and struck him against his left cheek. He stumbled and fell against the wall opposite the den. He looked at her in horror.

"How dare I?" she yelled. "HOW DARE I?" she roared. "I wasn't the first one to be unfaithful, you little shit." She pointed to the images. "I did this for three weeks. You did this to me for YEARS!" She lunged for him and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. Simone drew him close while bringing her knee into his chest. She heard a crack and smiled at the thought of his ribs splintering. "How dare you paint me the whore after you crawled to me, begging me for forgiveness, after not one, not TWO, BUT THREE OF YOUR LITTLE FUCKING SIDE PIECES CONFRONTED ME IN PUBLIC?!" She released his collar and allowed him to fall at her feet. "You're worthless. You're a man-child. You don't need a wife, you need a fucking wet nurse!" She cocked her right foot back and kicked him in the face, sending him flying back and sliding down the hallway.

The pain no longer hurt. It felt more like a searing heat that coursed through her entire body. Looking down at her hands, she noted they were black as pitch. Assuming she had walked out of the den's light, the darkness began spreading through her skin. The new pigment leached up her arms and began to bleed across her chest. Her nails were no longer manicured but growing thick and long. Somewhere in her mind, she knew she should have been scared. She knew what she was becoming. But at the same time she also felt a power she had never felt before. So this...condition. It could be spread to other people. Had Philip known? Did it even matter now? She was angry with him at first but he had indeed given her the gift of release, in every sense of the word. He drove her to orgasm. He gave her a mechanism to exorcize her rage. And now, he was giving her the chance to escape her marriage. She really wished she hadn't killed him now.

She heard her husband cough. She looked up in time to see him spit on the floor, blood spraying across the tile and heard the clatter of...a tooth, maybe? She watched him try to get up only to collapse on the floor again, clutching his left side. In long, adamant strides, she soon loomed over him with a manic grin spread wide across her face...or at least what used to be her face. Her husband regarding her with utter horror.

In a voice she no longer recognized, Simone said, "I should have done this years ago."

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The rage passed, as it always does, but the damage was done. Simone sat on her front step, looking at her hands dripping red and in some places covered with the hair and brain matter of her recently bludgeoned husband. She expected to hear the sound of sirens any minute now so she'd patiently wait for them right here. She still felt empty but it was a different kind of empty.

No, not empty. That was the wrong word. Unburdened. Simone simply took all the baggage of the last 12 years of her life and used it to beat the ever-loving shit out of her husband. And in all honesty, she had never felt better.

"You should know we are notoriously difficult to kill," a familiar voice said.

Her head rose slowly. She knew her madness was finally complete. It was impossible to be hearing that voice. He was dead.

There he stood before her. Not as refined as when they first met earlier that night, but he stood there nonetheless. How had he found her? She laughed at asking such a stupid question. You could find anyone these days with the right connections and the right access. She noticed he wasn't naked anymore. This disappointed Simone.

"I'm sorry," he began, as he walked towards her and sat next to her on the steps. "I don't know what I was thinking but by the looks of things, I fear I may have overcomplicated your life tonight."

She shook her head. "Actually, this is the simplest my life has been in a very long time. But I do have a lot of questions." She paused and cast Philip a sidelong look. "Are you here to kill me?"

He laughed. "No. You were protecting yourself. School teacher, my ass. But you couldn't have known what would happen. It wasn't your fault." He heaved a sigh. "I have...anger management problems."

Simone displayed her hands in front of her. "It seems I do now, as well." She sighed, letting the hands fall into her lap. "What now?"

Looking out into the darkness, Philip weighed any number of responses to that question. "I suppose I should help you clean up inside. You can ask me the million-and-one questions chomping at the bit in your mind. And...is it wrong for me to say you look beautiful covered in blood? Red really is your color."

She smiled. "Then you're going to love how I redecorated inside."

"Perhaps you can show me. The smell of blood is tantamount to an aphrodisiac for people like me...like us, now. Maybe you've noticed?"

Now that he mentioned it, she did. A literal bloodlust. Her disappointment at seeing him clothed made more sense. "Then I suggest we not clean up right away. Care to come inside?"

"I thought I already did."

She elbowed him in the ribs but couldn't help smiling at the memory.

"Let's have ourselves a little encore then."