Kyle came home in a fit of rage screaming;

 

"You’ve been cheating on me NICOLE, I KNOW YOU HAVE"

 

The putrid smell of stale Stella Artois, permeates from his sweaty skin. The stench wafting its way into Nicole's nostrils; she cringes at the smell of his horrid body odor more so than the accusatory tone of his voice. 

Nicole lets out a loud annoyed sigh "I've never cheated on you Kyle" she says calmly. 'you know this, I've told you this time and again" once sitting comfortably in her favorite lime green plush recliner, she stands up and locks eyes with him. "We go through this every night you get drunk Kyle, which is well...every night!"

 

Kyle, looking as if she had slapped the fire out of him, continues his drunk accusing, bellowing obscenities at her, realizing she's not taking his shit tonight, he sees that as a challenge and stumbles towards her. His horrific body odor getting even worse.

 

"What did you say to me?" he spits out, wiping his beefy hand across his mouth. 

 

All she can do is stare at him in utter disgust. 15 years she thinks to herself, 15 miserable years with this excuse of a man...

Before she could finish her thoughts, Kyle lunges for her throat.

 

"I know you have you whore, I can smell him on you! Was it J from the smoke shop? Or Hamill from the car dealer ship?"

 

With almost inhuman strength, he picks her up by her throat and flings her into the armoire. Thank god it wasn't her pottery shelf. Nope. Slung like a rag doll into his mothers prized china collection, tucked away nice and neat...or was. God, she always hated his mother. 

 

Precious china now broken around her, precious antiques once harmless, leaving jagged cuts on her face and arms. Nicole tries to sit up, gasping for breath, trying to regain her focus, she sees him angling back towards her. Knowing this could be the end, she spots a jagged piece of his mother’s collectable antique tea pot. Kyle lunges for her again, but before he can make any time of contact she plunges the once perfect polished porcelain piece into his fat throat. 

All she can feel is sticky warmth trickling down her face, and Kyle's once menacing, towering body, slowly crumbles on top of her. His breathing still rapid, she can feel his hot breath against the crick of her neck. Ironically that was always her sweet spot. She shrugged that thought off, he hasn't been that man in years. He tries to say something, all that comes out is bloody gurgling. As his heart begins to slow, and his once warm breath starts to get cold, he manages to choke out, ever so slowly, "it’s not over" and goes completely limp against her body.

 

Nicole has always been a planner, maybe a little bit OCD, nonetheless she knows she can't waste any more time with Kyle's now 300lb corpse pinning her down. She manages to roll him off of her, he lets out a wet sounding fart. She stares in disbelief, and disgust. She manages to stand up, looking down upon him, glaring into his once vibrant bright blue eyes, now glassy, red, they've already started to glaze over; gazing at her blankly. Lost in more thoughts she grimaces and shakes it off, she can’t stand to look into those eyes any longer. Rummaging through drawers, she finds what she's looking for. Ha-ha she giggles to herself maniacally, his favorite roll of duct tape. She rips a good piece off and slaps it over his eyes. "Rot in hell you bastard" she seethes.