Orange. I Fucking Hate Orange.

We pulled up to the thrift store, mostly just a way to get some fresh air and work through whatever this was between us. I went in first, he followed behind. I walked through to the back of the store before I found anyone working. The store was empty otherwise, empty and quiet. There was a lady in a room full of shelves already covered with an orange curtain. She smiled and asked how I was. She smiled even bigger when he walked into the room. “Oh, hey” her smile too big to have been for a stranger. I felt my chest tighten, there was only one reason for that. They knew each other.

Her eyes never leaving him as he walked behind me and around to her. Behind the counter, he introduced me as he put one arm around her. “This is my..” She cut him off before he could finish. “Oh, you are married.”

I tapped my fingernails on the countertop as the words spewed from my lips, “No, we are not married.” Out the door I went. This was pointless. He wanted to fix things, but his attention was with so many other women, that that was an impossibility. I felt anger, both at him and at her. I swung the door open and felt the cold air blast me. Every inch of uncovered skin felt the chill. I was wearing a summer dress, not really a dress, but it passed for one. I think it was actually some sort of nightgown, but he hadn’t given me time to change.

Standing outside the store, I noticed her perfectly shined and spotless windows. The only obstruction was a bit of water that had collected on the outside. I felt the anger building up inside and I smeared my hand over the front, leaving a streaked mess. I smudged my fingerprints and got into his jeep and waited. I saw him come to the window and frantically close the curtains. Trying to help her close up and get the hell out of there, I’m sure. Or possibly he wanted to give her a quick fuck, who knows. I was surprised though, he was out the door within seconds of closing the curtains. He jumped in the jeep and threw an orange dress at me. I hate orange. “Here put this on, its at least warmer than the one you have on.

We hit the road and started in the same direction we had been heading before we stopped. He was strange today, not that he wasn’t an odd character anyway, but today he was different. He’s angry with me, but he says that he wants to fix US. I don’t know if there is anything left of us to fix. He’s been with so many women during our relationship, it makes me sick. Not just random women, but women close to me. It was only a matter of time until I figured it out or someone spilled the secret.

He kept insisting that I change. “Just lay down in the seat and change”. Fine, whatever, if it will make him stop, I’ll change. I laid down in the seat and took my dress off, I was reaching for the other one when he thrust his fingers between my legs and inside me. This was always his way of ending an argument, getting me to forgive him, changing the subject. He thrust and massaged until I was close to orgasm. I could feel myself about to explode and I began to see the faces of those other women. The orgasm was gone, I jerked away from him and sat up in the seat pulling the dress over my head. Trying to, that stupid orange dress was too fucking small. I threw it at him and began crying as I fumbled for the dress I had just taken off.

I pulled it over my head and bent over in the seat, cradling my head in my hands and lap. I was mumbling and crying. I said, “I can’t stop thinking about Megan and Rachel.” I knew that I should not say their names, that would only make him angry. At this point, I was hurting so much that I just didn’t care. I was sobbing, tears poured from my face and I was beginning to choke on my own snot and tears from being bent over like that. I raised up and everything went black.

I opened my eyes to a brightness, a brightness that ended up being headlights. I saw trees, trees everywhere, and him digging. What was he digging? Why? It’s dark and.. And there was my half naked body laying on the ground in front of his jeep. He walked over and picked me up, cursing and crying a little. “Why couldn’t you just let it go? I didn’t want to hurt you, Fuck baby, I loved you. I didn’t even like that woman in the store, I don’t even remember her name, you made me kill her too. You should have just let it go, and we could have been ok.” He stood there holding me, kissing my bloody face. He’d killed the woman in the store and my prints were on the counter. She was dead and I’d never be found.

He laid me gently on the cold earth and filled the hole with dirt. I followed him back to the jeep, got in and he drove away. So, I was a ghost now I suppose. A ghost following home the man who killed me. Well, at least he loved me. In his own strange way.