The Returned

By month four she was already looking like she’d been around the bend a couple times. There was an international manhunt out for her still which she knew about from the newspaper clippings I brought her.

She did all the talking those times I visited, her voice hoarse from disuse or screaming the place down when the ennui got to be too much. I give a fuck!

One day I found my wife crying in the laundry room. We were about to move into our new home, she’d just told me she was indeed pregnant, but she was afraid to go to the doctor to have it confirmed.

The fear in her eyes brought it all back and for the first time I came close to ending Mindy’s life. Instead I locked her in the box for a week the next time I went up there. It didn’t do much to ease the anger in my gut.

For the next few months I couldn’t leave her side. It was like all the old fears came back and I knew it was because of the child she carried. I spent hours reassuring her the only way I know how. By making love to her as long and as often as I could.

Each time I saw that look on her face I’d drag her off to bed. My nosy ass kids were growing up fast and it wasn’t always easy to give her what she needed while they were up and about. But I made it work.

As time went by and her tummy grew she learned to leave the fear behind. Then it was my turn to freak the fuck out. I’d been working from home long before she came back to me, so there was never any need for me to be away from them for too long.

But every once in a while I’d have to go out of town. I could’ve taken dad and Mike up on their offers to watch my home while I was away, but I chose to pack the three of them up and drag them with me.

We found our home two weeks before her due date which meant it was all hands on deck. I was a nervous wreck, and once or twice forgot Mindy who by this time had lost a good twenty pounds or more. She looked like hell.

She’d taken to pleading for mercy, begging for forgiveness, both of which I ignored. Every time my wife felt fear I was reminded of what she went through because of this twit so I had no give in me.

I could’ve killed her any number of times, but that’s not what I wanted. I wanted her to suffer and she can’t do that shit if she’s dead. I did take great pleasure in telling her about my wife’s pregnancy when I did get around to talking to her.

I knew that shit would eat away at her black heart. I also liked sharing little tidbits about her parents and how they were coping with her absence and not knowing where she was. Monstrous I know, but fuck if I didn’t get immense pleasure from that shit.

Each time I left that place I’d go home and fuck the shit out of Zandi to release the anger that usually came with being near that female. Once or twice Zandi caught on to the fact that some shit was up, but I was always able to get her off the scent.

No way did I want her involved in any way shape or form. If she’d continued to be spooked by Mindy’s escape I would’ve had to come up with something, but thankfully she’d gotten over that shit quick.

All in all life was getting back to normal, barring the fact that I had a woman locked away for the sole purpose of making her lose her damn mind. But it beat putting a bullet in her damn head and ending her insignificant life.

It was crazy the way I was able to keep that shit a secret. Made me wonder about the sick fucks of the world who do that shit and fly below the radar. That shit’s way too easy if you ask me.

Then I got the surprise of my life the night my wife went into labor. Of course it was the middle of the damn night, because, why not? For weeks everyone had been on alert.

Mom and dad had the hospital route mapped out, Mike knew he had backup duty and her bags were packed and ready to go. She was a few days past her due date and miserable as hell.

I told her ass we shouldn’t have sex, but she listened to some chick who convinced her that sex or spicy food would move things along. I wasn’t too sure about that shit, because a few days ago I had her and her tummy was doing some weird shit. I vowed not to go anywhere near her snatch until after the kid was born.