Free Limelight by M Jet Page A

Layla were entirely invisible as he dragged Tara back across the room and tossed her like a rag doll onto the couch.  "You think you just get to fuck my wife and walk right out of her FOR NOTHING?  Fuck you, Tara.  You been asking for this from the first time I meant you anyway, you fucking bitch!" 
    He held her down with a knee planted firmly between her shoulder blades and buried her face down into the couch cushions while he awkwardly grappled with his fly.  Tara wept and squirmed as much as she could, but he quickly brought out his cock and restrained her hands at her sides just after yanking up her skirt.
    "Oh yeah," he said, grinning down at the sight of her perfect body.  "This is gonna be good."
    Tara began screaming and pleading.
    And then, with a sickening, liquid sounding thud, Seth tipped off the couch and crashed to the floor.
    ***
    "Oh my god!  What did you do?!"  Tara screamed hysterically.  She scrambled off the couch and onto her knees next to Seth on the floor.  Layla stood looming over them, her hands up as though surrendering.  A look of sheer terror riddled her face.
    Seth lay on his side on the floor, his eyes closed, and blood pooling beneath him.
    "I…  I couldn't let him hurt you, Tara," Layla croaked.
    Tara hovered over Seth, assessing his injury.  He looked incredibly pale, and the heavy handle of a butcher knife protruded between his shoulder blades.  Blood steadily oozed out around the imbedded blade. 
    "Can we help him?" Layla asked urgently.  "Can you save him?"
    Tara gently placed her fingers on Seth's neck and found only a weak pulse.  She looked up at Layla.  "I can remove the knife and he'll be dead in a matter of seconds.  Or I can leave it in, and he'll be dead in minutes.  Either way, he's not going to make it, Layla.  This is a fatal injury, you hit his heart.  No one can save him now."
    Layla began to weep, and she beckoned for Tara.  "Move away from him.  Don't get his blood on you."
    On trembling, weak legs, Tara stood, and the two women left the room.  In the kitchen, they both sank onto chairs at the table.  Tara fumbled with her purse and extracted her phone.  Layla's hand shot out and snatched the phone away from her.
    "What are you doing, Tara? You can't call the cops!"
    Tara's jaw dropped and she stared blinking at Layla.  "What?  Layla, I have to!  We just killed a man!"
    Layla's bottom lip began to tremble as she felt hysteria bubbling up.  "Exactly, Tara.  I just murdered my husband!"
    Tara reached across the table and took Layla's hands.  "Lay, it was self-defense.  Anyone can see that."
    Layla shot out of her seat, yanking her hands away.  She began to pace.  "Can they?  Tara, every single person who knows us can attest that I had plenty of reason to want to kill him.  But just because he was a dead beat certainly doesn't mean a court will think it was OK!  And what about you!  If the truth comes out about us, if anyone finds out you were here when he died?"  She shook her head and rubbed her temples.  "They'll think we planned this Tara.  You'll go down too."
    The wind rushed out of Tara as she sat lifelessly contemplating the sobering thought.  It occurred to Layla that she was thinking of her future while the only man she'd ever been with lay dying in the next room.  She turned and bolted to the sink where she vomited.
    Tara crept up behind her to pull back her hair and comfortingly rub her back.  It took a long time for the violent heaving to release Layla.  She finally straightened and splashed cold water into her face.
    "What do you want to do?" Tara asked quietly.  Layla turned to face her.  Tara's face was calm and her eyes searched Layla's.
    "I'm so scared, Tara."
    Tara wrapped her arms around Layla.  "I know, baby."  She pulled back but left her hands on Layla's shoulders.  "But we'll get through it together.  I'll do whatever you ask of me.  Now, what do you want to do?" she asked again.
    Layla stared at Tara