Page 2 of Venomous Kiss

ONE

LILITH

Dear Diary,

When someone bleeds out, how long does it take them to die?

I’ve googled it, but it gives me different answers.

I hope no one searches my Google history or even this diary.

If my last therapist saw it, that bitch would lock me up and throw away the key.

Damn! That woman is a cunt.

xox

I have bad thoughts.

Really bad thoughts.

And I don’t think it’s normal.

It can’t be, right?

Maybe I was broken somewhere along the way when the right pieces were chipped off and replaced by something more sinister.

Gone.

My husband tells me I have issues and that I should see a therapist.

I don’t want to see a therapist again.

I don’t want to tell a stranger the inner workings of my fucked-up mind; the last one was shit.

I tried that a long time ago, just once, and she told me I should only have happy thoughts.

Like, what the actual fuck does that mean?

How do you simply have happy thoughts?

How is that even possible?

Taking a deep breath, I open my car door.

I quit work today. Deven is going to be angry, so I’ve been sitting in the car outside of our house for what feels like ages.

He knows I hate what I do and hate dealing with people.

In fact, I despise most people.

I surprised myself when I married Deven. I’d like to say he got me when I was at my most vulnerable—drunk. But, unfortunately, I was sober.

And now it’s been two years. I had hoped his normalness would rub off on me. Somehow, being a wife, sharing a home, and doing a regular job would tame that darkness inside me.

I first met him through my job—the one I just quit. He was a client at the construction business I worked for. I handled the accounts for all the high-profile clients. He was building a house. It’s the house I’m looking at right now—the one I moved into three years ago, a year before we got married.

I wouldn’t say it was love at first sight.