She sat on the couch, drenched in gore, calmly combing out the hair on his mistress’ severed head. Her eyes had a glassy, vacant look and she hummed tunelessly to herself. He considered it a tribute to his self-control he was able to close and lock the door behind him before confronting Charise.
Twelve years of marriage had progressed from disinterest to discord, from dislike to disgust. Though Derek had tried to be discreet, his wife was, apparently, incapable of accepting their circumstances gracefully.
His thoughts calmed as he realized the situation was anything but untenable. Stella had been an enjoyable diversion but hardly anything special. In reality, pretty young whores were a dime a dozen. On the plus side, Charise would be gone from his life once and for all without the economic misfortunes of divorce.
He spoke in a low measured voice, “You know, they’ll put a needle in your arm for this you crazy, sadistic bitch. Not that I really much care anymore but I’m pretty sure there’s a cozy little corner of Hell just for women like you. Enjoy your new life there.”
Charise sat the comb and her grisly trophy on the coffee table, reaching into the handbag at her feet. She withdrew, of all things, a hand grenade and pulled the pin with a wicked smile. Tossing it his way, she was delighted to see her husband instinctively catch it.
This story was written for the weekly Thursday Threads flash fiction challenge prompt: "I'll see you there, darling."