Murder Me

“Murder me.” He said.

“Murder you?” I asked

“Yes. Simple as that and the money is yours.”

This was the proposition presented to me as I sat across a table, haphazardly wiped with a semi-dirty wash cloth, and still smelling slightly of the bleach that was used to sanitize the bucket of water the cloth came from in the McDonald’s restaurant. I was disturbed at having this put before me while I politely chewed on the Big Mac that, until now, I never had the inclination to try.

My first bite was rather enjoyable. ‘No wonder Micky D’s is so popular!’ I thought. The second bite was abruptly ruined by my date getting into brass tax. I was already wondering how long I would stick around before making up some excuse to high-tail it out of there.

He was so interesting from the start, though; good looking even. Maybe this was some sort of test? What if he was trying to see how judgemental or discriminate I would be. He was dressed in a three piece suit and his brown hair was neatly groomed and combed. He picked me up in a BMW that still had the “new leather” smell. So sue me if I thought it was some kind of joke when he pulled into the Macker’s on Shortberry Road.

I met him on Dates.com. We chatted online over a period of a week before I finally agreed to a video chat. I even did my hair and makeup, if that shows you how impressed I was by his demeanor and attitude. In the video, I could see that he was very well mannered and polite; the markings of a man brought up well, and educated. He made me comfortable right away. He complimented my auburn hair and green eyes, which he later begged to be allowed to meet me so he could see my eyes in their full splendor. I giggled and told him to stop, but as anyone knows, flattery will get you everywhere. It was more than that, however. He wasn’t full of himself. He was kind. He wanted to know about me and he didn’t hold back when talking about himself. Well not completely. As I would find out, he had a very particular fantasy that one could experience only once in a lifetime.

“Is this some kind of joke?!” I asked and stood up.

I had to choke down my second bite of Big Mac to avoid spitting it out, altogether.

“Please, Cheryl, sit down. At least hear me out. I am not joking or putting you on. I am not crazy or unpredictable. I assure you, I have everything worked out. If you let me finish, you will see that both of us will get everything we have ever wanted and we both will have only sacrificed one thing. I, my life; and you, your innocence.”

He was so sincere and without malice, that I found myself lowering back into the yellow plastic bucket seat that squeaked when I settled. Needless to say, I was no longer able to continue with eating my Big Mac. I haven’t been tempted to get another to complete the experience yet, either.

“Fine. Let’s start over so we’re clear on this. I am sort of floored at what you just said to me. Please, start at the beginning.” I asked him.

“Of course. I understand. Since I was a child, I have always been fascinated with dying. More than that, though. It wasn’t enough to just ponder suicide; or a fatal accident. I would watch horror movies and always sympathize with the victims, as one should. Yet there was something more behind that emotion. It took me many years to figure out what that was. Accidents on the side of the road. News stories on television. Research on the internet. Everything that had to do with death; you name it, I was looking for it. The incidents of death always seemed to interest me, but particularly, the incidents of murder. It wasn’t that I wondered what it would be like to murder someone, but what it would be like to actually be murdered. That’s what fascinated me.”

I must have wore a look of utter shock and disgust, because he paused and said, “I know what you must be thinking. ‘This man is off his meds.’ I assure you. I have sought professional psychiatric consultation, and have been assured that I am not mentally disturbed or a danger to myself or society.”

“How can you say that? You just asked me to murder you!” I asked him.

He thought for a moment before replying.

“Yes, well there is that.”

Yet, if I didn’t know any better, I am certain there was a look in his eye that told me he wanted to rebut with, “No, my dear, I am not a danger to myself. That is where you come in.”

“This is really messed up! I don’t know why I am even still sitting here.”

“With all due respect, Cheryl, you are still sitting here for two reasons. One: you know I am no threat to you. You can feel it. I have never in my life harmed another living soul, nor would I ever. You can sense that, I’m certain. I am very careful about the company I choose. Second: You were just offered over eight billion dollars, secured cash money, to spend one evening with me that will end with my death. There aren’t many things a person will walk away from with that sort of reward without at least hearing the details.”

He had me. I wasn’t hurting for money, but I would be lying if I tried to tell him or anyone else that there weren’t eight billion ways I could use it. And he was right about my feelings toward him. I was devastated by what he was asking me to do. Not because of the nature of the task so much as the fact that for the last week I had been thinking, ‘Finally! Here is a man I could fall in love with!’ It was disappointing to say the least. He was determined to have someone end his life. But why?

He saw the question forming on my lips and saved me the trouble of having to voice it.

“I’m so sorry, Cheryl. Look at you. You are so very beautiful. Inside and out. It’s why I chose you. In another life I could love you easily. Maybe in another life I will. In this life, however, this is happening. If you say no, I will ask another. I am prepared to pay for your silence in the matter, as I would like to keep this whole thing quiet. My family. You understand. However, if you will not keep this to yourself, there is nothing I can do to stop you nor would I. Yet I would at least protect myself against any harm that might come to my reputation and the reputation of my family, and I have more than enough resources to keep my name from being dragged through the mud. Does that sound fair to you?”

Message sent. Message received. Keep my mouth shut = everyone’s happy. Sing = I’m screwed! Not a tough decision in the grand scheme of things. I nodded in the affirmative, prompting him to continue. What really amazed me about all this, was he was talking to me so openly and innocently while people were walking back and forth through the aisles in the McDonald’s restaurant. Carrying trays with Happy Meals and large combo McMeals while children darted between their legs looking for the destination known so affectionately as the “Play Place” without any sort of care whether anyone else was hearing our conversation. Any attempt to hush my own voice made me feel silly and awkward, and after a moment or so, I simply quit trying.

“If your answer is no, upon returning home this evening, you should check your online banking account. You will find that an even five million dollars has been deposited into your account. Don’t ask how it got there. Just enjoy. That is what you have earned just for hearing me out. However, if your answer is yes, then our date will continue long into the night and by morning I will be dead, and you will be a billionaire with a perfectly explainable back story as to how you inherited your newfound fortune and a team of experts that will guide you in your new life until you are ready to make your own way without help. These are my people and they will be pre-paid, and paid well.”

“People know about this?” I asked, astounded.

“Of course. I’m a billionaire. I have people that would take a bullet for me if I was threatened, or put one in their own head if I asked them to. Not that I ever would, but people like me … we get what we want. And what I want, Cheryl, is for you to murder me. This evening. I want to taste my own blood as it gurgles up my throat, into my mouth, from my eviscerated lungs. I want to feel the pain. I want to feel the agony of panic as my life slips away. I want to feel the anxiety of knowing that it is too late to change my mind, and that nothing I say or do can take it back.”

He spoke so genuinely and rationally about something so insane and irrational, I was beside myself. I was in some kind of surreal movie set in a popular diner with the hustle and bustle of life while this man was telling me he wanted to enjoy having someone murder him. And he wanted it done that evening. He was tired of waiting, but he would wait some more if he had to. I heard all I needed to. This was no joke and I had a decision to make. Apparently, I had to make it quick.

Andrew stopped and looked at his tray. He hadn’t touched his Quarter Pounder with Cheese and only nibbled a few of his fries. Then he excused himself to use the restroom. He gave me a look then, that I could read if it had been given to me by my BFF from junior high. ‘I’ll be needing your answer when I get back.’ For the first time in my entire life, I remember wishing that he was going for a number two. A long one. I needed time to think.

So I thought. And I thought. I weighed the options. Apparently I was now rich. I had five million smackers in the bank as I sat and thought. Five million dollars and I was sitting in a McDonald’s seriously pondering murder. You can’t write this stuff, folks. (*wink) Five million dollars richer to hear a request. Fulfillment of said request would require me to take someone’s life. I listened and heard. I made five million dollars to do so. Easiest five million anyone in my position has ever made. There was still the matter of the decision and what I was weighing.

In a moment like this, one has to halt the imagination from taking control of one’s emotions. It wasn’t a fair predicament I was in. I would be selling my soul for massive wealth that would last well beyond my own life, and the lives of my progeny if I played my cards right. Images of getting everything I ever dreamed of and everything I never dared to dream of began to bubble up. I felt myself beginning to smile at the prospect. It was fleeting, for once I realized that murder was making me smile, it instantly became a frown.

An eternity passed while Andrew was in the restroom. I wasn’t sure if it was a matter of perspective or if he actually did have to go number two, but in hindsight, I now believe he took extra long washing his hands in order to give me a chance to really try to think through this properly. Although, I would have been much happier at the time if he had given me a week to decide, but now I am glad he didn’t. Over the years, I have had plenty of time to think about whether or not I would have chosen the same, had I been given more time. But you can’t change the past. Some nights, lying in bed, I wish I could. Others … not so much.

So what did I decide, you are obviously wondering? He returned, finally, and took his seat. He looked at me with those pleading big brown eyes, and waited.

“Yes. I’ll do it.” I said. He smiled.

“You are clearly going to go through with this whether it is I or someone else who commits the act, but you say you have chosen me. Why? I will never know.”

“Sure you will.” He said. “Our date isn’t over yet. I plan to make this evening quite pleasant for you despite what must come later. And at any point you should change your mind, I will respect your wishes. It will have not been a complete loss. You are an amazing and enchanting woman, Cheryl.”

“So why McDonald’s? Why did you bring me to a fast food restaurant? What were you trying to prove?” I asked. He looked dumbfounded.

“I love McDonald’s. You don’t? Oh jeez, I’m so bad at this. I’m so used to upscale dining that for me, going to a Mickey D’s is just as much a treat as going to Osteria Francescana in Modena, Italy.”

My mouth dropped open. I hadn’t even thought about that. Here is a man that is so filthy rich, going to a three Michelin starred restaurant holds the same value as going to McDonald’s. As I realized this, Andrew stood up. He walked over to me and presented his hand. I took it and we left the restaurant.

It was around 6:30 p.m. when we left the McDonald’s on a Sunday evening in October of 2016. We spent nearly the rest of the evening having the most fun either of us has ever had. He made me forget, for a while, what he wanted from me and allowed me to pretend that I was being courted by a man that could give me everything I ever wanted in life. Under the condition that later in the night, I would rob him of his. He took me dancing under the stars. He made me feel like a queen. Ever so polite with each moment that passed. We drove to the ocean and walked along the beach hand in hand. He with his pant legs rolled up, carrying his socks and shoes in his free hand. I, holding my own black high heels in mine. We looked like a couple falling in love for the first time.

We saw an older couple doing the same coming towards us from the opposite direction with a golden retriever trotting happily behind them. They appeared how we would have possibly looked in twenty years or so. I began to cry. Andrew stopped and stepped in front of me and put his hand up to my chin and lifted my eyes to his. God, how I wanted to keep this man forever.

“Don’t cry, Cheryl. You shouldn’t be sad. You will have something most people will never have. You will have the knowledge that you have made someone extremely happy in such a short period of time, and you have made him fall in love with you. All in an evening. You will be able to hold on to that moment forever. Knowing that I do love you now, and forever.”

Then he kissed me. My knees went weak and he had to put his arms around my waist to keep me from falling. His lips were so delicate and firm, that I now understand the excitement scientists experience when smashing atoms in their particle accelerators. When he released me, I knew that I loved him back, and I told him so.

“I do love you, Andrew. I know we only have known each other a week, but I really don’t want to do this.”

“So you are changing your mind?” He asked, with some disappointment.

“No. I will do this for you. I don’t want to, but I will. Not for the money, but because I want you to be happy.”

He smiled then, and we continued walking some more. Eventually, we both knew that time was growing short. The seagulls were waking up, signaling that the sun would begin rising any moment. He wanted this tonight. Not tomorrow. Not the next day. Soon. Suddenly there was anxiety between us. An awkward moment of expectation. Myself wanting this moment to never end. He wanting it to end forever. It was time for the finale.

He brought me to his home. A giant mansion of the sort you would expect a billionaire to own. As we pulled into his driveway, a well dressed man opened the front door and stepped outside to greet us. Andrew and I stepped out of the car. He left the engine running.

“Good morning, Andy? How was your evening?” The man asked.

“Spectacular! Best night ever! Believe it. Chucky this is Cheryl. Be nice to her, you’ll be working for her from now on.” Andrew announced.

“Very good. Very good, indeed. It is a great pleasure to finally meet you, Cheryl. Andy has been going on about you for months.”

“Tssssss” Andrew said. He tilted his head and scratched his neck.

I looked at him. “Months?” I asked.

“I’ll explain inside.”

“You better!” I told him.

In truth, I didn’t even care. This was the best and strangest date I had ever been on, and the hardest part was still to come. I was given the option to change my mind at any time and that, in itself, was huge. If I found I just couldn’t do it, I would be free to go.

Chucky looked immediately surprised and then I saw the mental “facepalm” he performed before he excused himself, got into the Beemer and drove it to the mansion’s garage. Andrew led me into the house and to a sitting room where there was a fireplace prepared with a roaring fire in front of designer sofa with a couple of comfy looking blankets stacked on the arm.

He led me around to the front and beckoned me to sit next to a long white cotton nightgown.

“I had Carol choose this for you. She assured me you would be comfortable wearing it. I’m going to go change out of this suit. If you want to change into the gown, you can. If not, that’s fine, but please, go into the washroom and freshen up a bit. I left you an envelope I’d like you to open.”

With that he turned and left the room. I sat facing the fire for a moment and allowed myself to become mesmerized by the dancing of the flames. I couldn’t help but think that these were the flames I would be surrounded by in my prison cell in hell. I shook my head to push the thought away and stood up from the sofa, picking up the nightgown. It was soft and clean. I wondered how long it would stay that way.  I made my way to the washroom that Andrew had pointed to and turned on the light. It was beautiful, but I will not try to describe it. The envelope was sitting next to the sink with my name written on it. I picked it up and turned it over and then back again.

I thought, ‘This is it, if I open this, there really is no going back. If I back out now, I will be disappointing the only man I ever loved. If I open this and look inside, I am committing myself to fulfilling the man I love’s darkest fantasy.’ I tore open the envelope.

Dear Cheryl

Thank you for this. I will never be able to express my true gratitude.

Love Andrew.

This was written on a plain white card that looked like at any other place in time might have said, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY” or “Get well soon! Prayers!” I opened the card and inside there was a laundry list of what he wanted to happen. Of course there was. He was a paying customer, after all.

1: I want it to be somewhat unexpected.

2: I want it to be violent.

3: I don’t want to suffer long, but I don’t want it to be instant.

4: We are not alone. Chucky will be leaving, but a highly trained team of experts will be ready to deal with the “situation” when it is finished.

5: There is a suitable tool under the sink for the act.

6: Also under the sink is a file with my medical records proving that I am perfectly healthy and free of infectious disease.

7: There is also an analogue video recording in safe keeping of a full confession, absolving you of any wrong doing. My personal lawyer will contact you sometime in the near future to go over the details.

8: When you are finished and certain that I am no longer alive, say the words “Come in, it’s done.” My team will take over from there.

9: Finally, just know that what you are doing is for me. It is what I want. What I have always wanted. I have made sure that you will be well taken care of after you’ve finished.

I read this with a sensation of numbness throughout my body and a humming in my ears that I couldn’t shake. I folded the card and replaced the card in the envelope and set it back on the sink. Opening the door under the sink, I saw the folder that must have been his medical file, sitting next to a survival hunting knife. The kind with the serrated back. I lifted it up and tested it’s weight. It almost felt good in my hand. Scary. It was like it was custom made specifically for me.

I changed out of my favorite flower print dress and laid it on the toilet. After some thought, I removed my bra and underwear as well. I don’t know why but I felt that’s what was needed. I pulled the soft, freshly cleaned nightgown over my head and washed my hands and face in the sink. When I was finally ready, I picked up the knife and held it. What was I supposed to do? Just walk out there with a big ol murder weapon like some kind of psycho killer lady?  Luckily, there were two rather large pockets on the front of the gown near my thighs. I slipped the knife inside one of them and left the washroom.

Andrew hadn’t returned yet, but a bottle of champagne and two flutes had been brought and placed on a table next to the sofa. It was a bottle of Krug. I lifted it out of the bucket of ice it was chilling in and looked around. The coast was clear so I placed the knife into the ice. I popped the cork on the Krug and began pouring. This was when Andrew returned.

He walked in the room wearing a pair of white pajama pants, that looked like it matched my gown, and a white t shirt. I poured the second glass and put the bottle on top of the knife in the ice. Handing Andrew a flute, I proposed a toast.

“To new beginnings … and endings.” I said with a smile and held up my glass to clink.

“And to a bloody good time!” Andrew replied and clinked before putting the flute to his lips.

We both took a sip and he said, “No pun intended.” and motioned for me to sit down with him.

He sat down first and I laid down and put my head in his lap. As I did this, he covered me with one of the blankets and I said, “Luccceeee, you have some splaining to dooooo!” Andrew chuckled. “Yes. Yes I do.” He wiggled to get more comfortable and we settled in, both of us looking at the fire. Feeling its heat. Entering its hypnosis.

“I told you, I chose you very carefully. This … venture … if you will … is a delicate one. I couldn’t just pick a random stranger off the street and bring them here. I searched for many people. Men and women alike. I had to be sure that I chose well from the broadest spectrum of candidates.”

“So I was just a candidate?” I asked.

“In the beginning, yes.” He explained with dignity. “I have yet to tell you one single lie. I plan to keep it that way. I narrowed down a list of first, thirty five people down to twenty. Then to ten. Five. Finally two.”

“There is another potential murderer out there.”

“Absolutely. You could still say no. I had to have a plan B.”

“Do they know?”

“Nooo. Of course not. I can tell you this, though. You are much prettier than he is, but that is not why I chose you. I had no intentions to care about you, but I do. I had no intentions to love you, but after tonight, I do as well.”

“So why don’t we just forget about this and just be together? I have never felt this way about anyone in my entire life. I am thirty seven years old. I have been in love before, but never like this. Never with anyone like you. We can have a life. We can be best friends. I don’t even want your money. It’s not about that, I swear it.” I pleaded.

“I know. It’s one of the reasons I chose you. And now, it’s one of the reasons I have fallen in love with you. I was changing my clothes just now and I thought, “I should stop this nonsense and just marry this girl. No … woman. Strong, independent woman. She will love me for me, because she will never need me. Isn’t that what every body looks for in a relationship?”

“Mhmm”  I agreed.

“But let me paint a little scenario for you. I have this … thing. This … dark … desire. To be murdered. That will never go away. I know. I am forty one years old and it has been plaguing me since I was a young child. So you and I, we fall in love and I say, “Fine, let’s forget this whole thing and we live together a year and then we get married. Maybe we even have a child. Two children … hell, Five! Then one day everything is going good and then suddenly out of the blue, your husband, the father of your children, gets murdered.”

“But you would never do that to me.”

“That’s right. I wouldn’t”

It made sense. I understood it perfectly. This could never be. He was living with an insatiable curiosity that would always end the same way. Nothing I could ever do would change that. I decided to change the subject.

“So why did you choose me?”

“Well, as I said, it came down to the two of you. You both have all the same qualities. You are strong, resolute, and very intelligent. You don’t take things lightly but you don’t let life get in the way of living. Where you win out over the other, is your ability to make yourself happy no matter what situation you find yourself in. The other guy? He is a man. A good man, with a good heart and a good head on his shoulders. He has most of the attributes I needed in order to pull this off without any consequences but I suspect that there is a slight possibility of things to go sideways once everything is said and done. Of course, beyond that, I will have given up any sort of control and matters would be left to my … lets call them … my clean up crew. At that point, I could not guarantee that everything would be completely fine. For my loved ones. My company. My legacy.”

“Your legacy?” I asked.

“Well yes. I didn’t spend my entire life building everything I ever worked for just for it to be torn down by a man with a conscience.”

“Are you saying I don’t have a conscience?”

“Not at all. I’m saying I am absolutely confident that everything I have built will be safe in your hands.”

I sat up then and looked him in the eyes for a moment and then kissed him with every ounce of passion that was within my whole entire body and soul. I kissed him with every bit of love I have ever felt for anyone in my life. I kissed him for what seemed like an eternity. When I finally pulled away from him, I asked him, “Would you like some more champagne?”

“Sure.” He answered, smiling.

I reached over him and took the bottle from the bucket. When I sat back up I plunged the knife into his upper chest, just under his collar bone, with all my might and yanked it back out. He screamed in pain and surprise.

“I love you!” I told him.

Shock took him instantly and he was unable to respond. I plunged the knife into the other side of his chest, trying not to hit anything vital yet. Blood began to ooze quickly into the white shirt he was wearing. I yanked the knife out again. Trying to keep the resolve that I had been chosen for, I stabbed him in the belly. Once, then twice, then three times the charm.

“Is this what you wanted, Andrew?!” I screamed.

I didn’t mean to, but murder was hard work and I had become winded. Hearing my voice, I realized I was sobbing. Already out of breath, I had one more strike to go. The blood from his chest had stayed in his shirt but the quick succession of stabs to his stomach had caused the blood to splash onto my face and body. It was in my hair and all over the couch. I must have looked crazed to him in that moment.

I stroked his face and tried to calm myself.

“Is it everything you had hoped for?” I asked, more calmly.

Andrew collected himself enough to answer me. His words still haunt me to this day.

“More. Everything and more. Please … it’s too … intense. Finish it, please. But … first … Thank you, my … love.”

I slammed the knife into the center of his chest. I understood it would take the last of what I had. He had drained me physically and emotionally and I still needed to get through his breastplate. It was easier than I thought it would be and I ended up burying the knife to its hilt. Ripping into his heart, stopping it forever.

I saw the life go out of his eyes and heard his tidal breath escape his lungs. The death breath. There was no mistaking it. People who have never witnessed a person dying may think that they might not know it when it happens. I’m telling you now, if you are one of those, you will know for certain. I was feeling all of these feelings. Rushing like water from the ocean in from the tide, crashing on the sand and back out again. Then the adrenaline began to subside, and I started feeling sick.

Then my sense of smell returned and it was time to speak the magic words. “Come in, it’s done.”

Three men dressed all in black entered the room, followed by a professionally dressed woman. She looked like she was in her late fifties or healthy early sixties with tightly pulled and pinned salt and peppered hair.

“Hello Cheryl, my name is Carol. I am–was–Andrew’s personal assistant. I’m here to help you get cleaned up.”

She wasted no time time smoothly walking to the front of the couch, while one of the men started to put out the fire. Carol took me by the hands and spared a brief glance at her former employer. There was grief in that look, but she was a professional, and just like any other day, she had a job to do. She held my hands gently as I stood up from the sofa. I nearly lost my balance. Everything was happening so quickly and I needed to stay focused. It was clear that I was just as much in shock then as Andrew had been after I struck him the first time.

“It’s alright, dear. I got you. You did real well. Andrew chose very wisely. Come let’s get you cleaned up.”

There’s not much more to tell and you’re probably wondering why I’m even telling you this at all. To finish the story, Carol walked me to the wash room and helped me get the nightgown off, taking no precautions of getting any of the now drying blood on her. It was clear that everything that was happening had been planned and rehearsed. She guided me to the shower and turned on the water. It was luke warm. I would have preferred it to be hot, but Carol told me the colder the better.

“There’s no soap.” I said.

She was right, the water’s temperature was bringing me back to my senses. I also remember reading somewhere that the best way to remove blood stains from clothing was with cold water.

“It’s alright, just rub off what you can and rinse with the water.”

Carol helped me get the areas I missed, which was good. I was trying to keep my eyes closed to avoid having to see the blood wash down the drain. Eventually the blood ran clear and I was clean again, though, I would never be clean again no matter how many cold showers I would take. This is the thought that broke me. I began sobbing, and Carol instantly stepped into the shower and took me in her arms. She was soft. Caring.

“Shhhh. There, there. Just go on ahead and let it out. You deserve it. You were asked to pay a terrible price, but things are going to be better for you from now on. So just go ahead and let it out now, and tomorrow we can begin your new life.”

I pulled back and looked at her. “I really did love him. I wasn’t lying.”

“I know, dear. I’ve seen what love looks like and I saw it again this evening. Come here.”

Carol pulled me back into her again. She understood that I needed to be comforted. “You saw us?”

“It was just a precaution. Andrew had everything planned perfectly. If anything, and I mean anything, looked like it was going south, we were to step in and end the event. Don’t worry, Cheryl. Andrew told me personally that you were the one. That you would not turn him down. That everything would work out just fine. He was right. You were … no … you are perfect. Now come on. Let’s get you dressed. I’m going to take care of you from now on. Andrew has paid me for life to be your personal assistant. I do believe we will get along just fine, you and I. Andrew didn’t just choose you for himself. He was thinking of me, as well. I swear, as long as I’ve lived, I’ve never met a more strange and wonderful man than him. I have never witnessed him ever be wrong about anything. Yet I could not talk him out of this.”

“You must have loved him.”

“More than my own son. That sounds bad, but don’t worry, I love my son plenty. You will meet him. He works for you too.”

“I have people working for me.” I said. It was starting to hit home.

And why not. I just made a pretty powerful sacrifice. I fell in love with a man and murdered him in the same day. Because he asked me to, no less. I deserved something good. As it turns out, though. My new life wasn’t enough. Sure, I went on a massive spending spree. Bought everything I could lay my eyes on. I took on a position within my new company that Andrew had cleverly weaved me into. Of course, as you well know, there are people that actually run everything. I am just the face. Eventually though, the novelty wore off and my life became incomplete once again. As your father knew, I was able to make my self happy regardless, but something was missing.

When Carol, your Grandma,–I know you know she is not really your grandmother by blood–saw that something was bothering me (It amazes me how intuitive she is. Your father really was right about everything!) she told me that Andrew had his sperm frozen and asked that when the time came, if she would present me with the option to carry his child. Needless to say, I jumped at the chance. I could never be with another man knowing I could never love him like I loved your father, and who would that be fair to? But you. Well you are part of him. He knew I would choose you, and so I did, because like everything else, he was right. And you filled that something that was missing. It was the last part of the deal. Your father understood that he could never pay me with wealth and fortune for what I had given him. My true payment was a night of heaven that ended traumatically and a little baby girl that is the light of my life. And now you know the truth. My beautiful Andrea. I am forever impressed with your intelligence, but I see the darkness that you get from your father and I only just pray it is a curiosity that won’t end with your life. That is, unless it involves you wondering what it’s like to be a hundred years old! I love you.

 

 

 

 

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