The Perfect Crime

It seemed so beautiful up there, being married to a wealthy man who's highly respected in society. The public show of affection and the attention he gave whenever in a function with him was enviable.

Most women desired to be in my shoes and literally tapped from the blessings they all thought I had. Many of them reached out to me, wishing they could have a husband like mine. I wished they knew better. It was crazy listening to their approbations on my husband. I was trying to protect his name and not bring shame to my family. I didn't want them to be mocked as having their only daughter out of marriage, so I had to stick with him, even though I was dying slowly.

Physically, I had everything. I had the money, the firm, and everything you may think of, but I lacked peace, respect, and value. I didn't have a life of my own; I was being tortured daily. Have you ever imagined being married to a man who brings his friends to have their way with you at will? Have you ever imagined your own husband bringing other ladies into your home, sitting there listening to all their crazy moans and noises, and you can't do shit or say anything? I bet that has never crossed your mind.

I was just 18 years old when this man came to ask for my hand in marriage through my dad. I never said yes, and neither did I say no. I was just being an obedient child, doing what dad and mum wanted. He promised to build my dad a mansion which he fulfilled within four months. He got dad a car and furnished the house for him. I was told he loved me and would take very good care of me. I believed my parents, and a proper wedding was done, both traditionally and otherwise. On my first night in his house, I was greeted by three of his friends invading our bedroom. They all tried to touch me; I jumped from where I sat and looked at hubby to disapprove of it or ask them to leave, but he felt cool with it and was enjoying the show. I freaked out on seeing them, but my dear husband was very calm and assured me everything was fine.

He told me how he would like his friends to watch while he made love to me. I was dumbfounded and didn't know what to do. How can these men see my nakedness? It was so crazy listening to him. I told him that it was my first time, I was still a virgin, and it was wrong to have a third party in our bedroom. He looked at his friends with one crazy kind of look, and they all boasted out in laughter. ''She's still fresh and spicy, uuuushhh! One of them exclaimed. In seconds my clothes and undies were ripped off, and I found myself naked before four men, including my husband. I tried to run out of the room, but they blocked and held me down forcefully.

That was the worst night ever. I died several times and was resurrected; I wished death could take me because it was a very terrible experience for me. People are meant to enjoy sex, but mine was pain and torture all through. Hubby never showed any sign of remorse; he acted as if nothing had happened. That very day marked the beginning of my mystery. I got depressed many times and attempted suicide severally, but I usually got rescued while trying. I guess God never wanted me to die that way. Then this fateful day, I decided to end it all. I'm certain I can kill somebody else if I can't kill myself. I had given enough, 12 years of torture, 12 years of a perfect marriage that was far from being perfect. A marriage with no child to show for it, a marriage with no peace nor happiness, a marriage of pain and anguish. I wanted and needed to bell out as soon as possible.

There's this beautiful damsel my husband usually brings home every last weekend of the month. She was ruled and disrespectful, and I needed to teach her the lesson of her life. Poisoning was going to be too suspicious; I needed a perfect plan to carry out my mission. A plan that will never get me involved in the crime I was about to commit. I thought so hard, and boom, it all came playing in my head like reggae music. That very day, he brought the lady home, as usual; both were already drunk. My husband is the worst at drinking; he usually passes out when it comes to hitting on him. Thank goodness he was drunk; a good opportunity for me.

He usually made me prepare pepper soup for the lady whenever she came; that very night, I was done with the catfish pepper soup and took it to his room to serve her as usual. I dropped it on the table for her and entered my husband's bathroom as if I was going there to get something. While in the bathroom, I called the lady to come to see something. She didn't suspect anything or insult me like she used to; I guess it was because I just served her favorite. When she came inside, I pushed her so hard that she fell and hit her head on the bathtub, and passed out. I listened to hear if my husband was going to ask what happened, but he didn't; that was when I realized he had already passed out through the influence of alcohol.

It was crazy, I know. You can call me wicked and heartless; I'll gladly answer. But don't forget that it was somebody else that built the monster that grew inside of me; it was somebody else that fed and nurtured this monster that I became. I don't know how I did it, but I cut the lady's body bit by bit and rubbed her blood all over my husband's body; the wall, his bed, and the floor were all covered in her blood. I placed the murder weapon in his hand. But before that, I gave myself a few cuts on my neck and both hands and hit my left shoulder and right chin with a hammer, causing my face to swell up like someone that was attacked. I left both the hammer and other weapons in his room and made sure his room door was wide open. I waited patiently for him to wake up before calling the neighbors for help.

My husband was finally arrested for murder, for a crime he never committed. Presently, he is languishing in jail. I don't know the kind of monster you're building and nurturing in the life of others, don't let it come back to haunt you. Be careful about the kind of life you live.

Monica Ama