Free Blackened Spiral Down by Pete Altieri

matter to her.  She was of an age where romantic notions were plentiful and rarely grounded in reality.  It was when I sternly told her that we would do no such thing, and that she should not continue with the pregnancy, that things took a turn for the worst.  Despite being Catholic, I knew the pregnancy could not continue.
                  She began to scream and throw things about the cabin.  I tried to subdue her, and explain that it just could not be.  I told her that my stature in the community, and my responsibilities of running the family business were too great, and appearances were important.  Having a child out of wedlock was bad enough, but with a 16-year-old girl who was hired help, was simply not possible.  It would be an abomination to the world.  Rosemarie would have no part of that logic.  She continued to scream and threaten to tell my wife about the affair if I didn’t at least let her have the baby.  My mind was racing, and fully cluttered with every possible angle of the tangled web that was woven.  As she continued to yell and scream, my temper began to burn out of control.  Every venomous word she spat was like a searing hot dagger in my back.  I knew that I had to do something to keep her quiet, but no good thoughts came to mind.
                  That was when I lost all control.  I could see the face of my father and my grandfather, in total disgust at what I had done.  I could also see the countenance of my humiliated wife, hurtful and crying over the illicit affair with the young and beautiful Rosemarie.  Even though our boys were far too young to understand, I knew that eventually they would, and how it would hurt them to know their father did such a dreadful thing.  It was all of these things at one time that pushed me to the breaking point. 
    It seemed like everything I did after that was in slow motion.  There were no sounds.  There was only her horrified face as my hands reached up and grabbed her by the throat, and threw her down to the bed with ferocity.  Her face turned bright red as my hands clenched tighter.  The once smooth and luxurious skin of her face and neck was now oxygen-starved and turning blue – veins protruding from her neck in a desperate cry.  Her arms flailed as she tried to fight back, but to no avail.  She even tried to kick me, but it was no use.  Within a few minutes she succumbed, and took her final breath. 
    I stood up, gasping for breath myself at the outburst of rage.  She looked as if she were sleeping peacefully in the bed.  The same bed we had used as our playground for the sordid affair.  I knew I did the right thing, but I felt horrible about it.  I took a few deep breaths so I could formulate a plan to get rid of the body.  Thankfully, in the shed behind the cabin, was a variety of supplies that would come in handy.  I came back into the cabin with some rope, a black vinyl tarp, and an old rusty boat anchor.   I laid the tarp on the floor and put Rosemarie in the center, rolling her tiny body into it, and then using the rope to wrap her up, I attached the anchor.  I hoisted her up over my shoulder and walked down to the pond.  There was still not a sound as my gaze scoured the horizon, making sure no one else was in sight.  Thankfully, I saw no one.
    I set her down at the shore, while I stripped off my own clothes, so I could wade out as far as possible before tossing her body into the water.  I made sure to go into an area of the pond that was thick with vegetation, which no one typically used for fishing or swimming, and tossed her as far as I could.  The tarp must have had too much trapped air, because it took a good minute to sink, even with the weight of the old anchor.  That was when I thought I saw the tarp move, as if Rosemarie was breathing inside!  I knew she was dead, or at least I thought she was.  As the tarp slowly went under, I saw what I thought were a few bubbles rise to the