Inspired by Vast
"Tattoo of Your Name"
Another man's wife.
I murdered him to protect her.
Our future together.
She played me.
I am a fool.
During my trial, I tried not to look. I couldn't breathe whenever I caught sight of her. I'd never seen or experienced such beauty before. I believed her to be a goddess, I treated her as such. Worship. For weeks I fell to my knees and prayed at the altar of Bella Cullen. I became her willing lapdog.
As two deputies led me out of the courtroom, I saw her hand was intertwined with her lawyer's. Her lawyer's name is James Itinerante. Something about his name rang a bell, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it at that exact moment. But that didn't matter; incarceration gave me ample time to mull things over.
She softly smiled at him as I passed them. They both looked exhausted, like they had not slept much the night before. She looked happy. She looked content. She looked like she always did after I had fucked her.
She came to my door during a violent rainstorm in the middle of the night. I held her for hours, drying her tears, softly caressing the bruises on her face. I listened. She told me that he was beating her and had been for years. I was her only friend. I asked her to leave him. She couldn't. She feared for her life. Edward Cullen was a dangerous man. He'd find her, he'd finish the job.
He had money, he was big shot attorney. She couldn't leave him; she needed him for his money. Her mother had cancer and he was paying the medical bills. She told me that there was a hundred thousand dollars in the bank and a life insurance policy that would pay. We could leave the country; go live in Mexico for a few years. She feared for her life, she feared for her mother's recovery. I was the only one who could help.
I got angry. This had to stop. I had to stop this. I didn't see her face when I said this; I didn't see the pleasure that probably colored her eyes.
We made love soon after. Being in Bella was amazing. No other words. She made her mark inside of me; she tattooed her name across my soul.
The next morning, I was awoken to a carefully thought out plan. Bella would go visit her mama, Renee, in Kentucky. I would go to that pawn shop on Decatur, the one owned by my friend Peter. I'd tell him that I was in debt to some bookies and needed a few guns for protection.
Peter sold me a rifle and two black guns without using my name, he believed my story. When Peter looked into my eyes, he knew that I was in deep trouble.
I watched her husband for days waiting for the right moment. I wanted it to look like a robbery or a car jacking. I followed Edward to his car and I waited until he slid behind the wheel. I confronted him. He gave me his wallet and his expensive watch but begged me to keep his wedding ring.
I saw red.
My anger exploded.
His marriage was a mockery; he beats her like a dog. Comprehension crossed his eyes when I cocked the gun and then he asked me if my name was James. I emptied both of those guns into him. His car had become a slaughterhouse. I felt relieved as I dialed Bella's cell phone. She started to cry when I told her that it was done, and then she hung up. The police came to my apartment later that night.
I was arrested for the murder of Edward Cullen.
He asked if my name was James. Not Jasper. James. He begged me to not take his wedding ring, his eyes shone with love for that ring.
Edward's sister, Alice, came to talk to me on one of my visitation days. She answered several of my questions. She told me that Edward was a struggling attorney, and had just made partner. Bella spent their money faster than he could earn it. They didn't have any life insurance policy and Renee was not sick. Bella had fallen face first during a block party and had bruised her face up pretty bad.
Alice had never trusted her sister-in-law. There was no love lost there. I told Alice my side of the story, she listened and said that she was going to set things right.
I never heard from her again.
No one had.
I woke up in a cold sweat last night. I was screaming her name and my dick was aching with need. My cell mate told me to shut the fuck up and deal with it. This was it. This was my life now.
Bella had become my drug, my everything. I would have existed for her love. Sometimes I close my eyes and imagine that I am inside her, and everything is right in the world. Other times, I want to scrub her existence away, I want to remove her from my soul.
I got life in prison without the possibility of parole. I deserved this. I murdered a decent, hardworking man. A loving husband. Someone's son. Someone's friend. A good man. I had the rest of my life to think about what I'd done.