And, to be perfectly fair, she was really, really, exceptionally good at it. In the 12 years they'd been married, he'd never seen her make a single mistake. And before that...well, he didn't actually know how long she had been doing it before they met, but he'd certainly had no idea, and he considered himself particularly observant.
It had been the night of their second date. He had arrived exactly on time to pick her up, and found the door of her modest house torn completely off the hinges, and heard sounds of a struggle coming from inside. He hesitated for a moment (one which he was always ashamed to remember). There was a tremendous crash of splintering wood, and then the tumbling of a body falling down a flight of stairs. At this, he rushed in to save her.
She had not needed saving.
Sprawled out on the landing was a large, twitching man with a massive piece of broken banister sticking entirely through his chest and out of his back. And there, crouched over the dying man, holding on to that chunk of blood-stained oak, like a pirate captain to the mast of a prize ship, eyes blazing, taking in quick, quiet breaths, was his date.
She met his eyes and flashed a quick smile, her teeth like little pearls. "So sorry love," she said, "but dinner is going to be a bit late. Unexpected guest."
She did a little hop off the man's back and brought her heel down on his neck. The large man stopped twitching.
He had blinked, spun on his heel and walked out the way he'd come in. Her smile dimmed a little, and she shrugged. She ran downstairs to the basement to retrieve a pack of plastic painting drop cloths and duct tape. When she came back up, she found him standing over the body, holding a shovel he'd found in her garden.
"Are we going to bury him here?" he had asked, "Or do you already have a spot?"
There really wasn't a need for a third date, but they had one anyway. She had later explained that she had rejected the dead man (pre-bannister) on the same online dating site they had used to meet, but that he had somehow found out where she lived and taken it upon himself to show her the error of her ways. "Wow, what terrible luck for him!" he laughed.
She didn't laugh, but instead had asked if he liked peach cobbler. He did, he had said; it was his favorite. He had not thought to say that the way to his heart was definitely through his stomach, not through his chest and out his back. He was never good at being witty, but that didn't seem to bother her. He was honest, and when he did think to tell her later, she had laughed and it was genuine.
She had only killed one more before they were married, but it was a very short engagement.
She'd buy gifts that were thoughtful, that he hadn't even realized he wanted. He chose not to think this meant she was one step ahead of him, that she knew him better than maybe he knew himself.
He had asked her why, only once, on the night of their first wedding anniversary. They had rented a secluded luxury cabin in the woods, and were curled up on the couch in front of the fire. She said they weren't people, they were space aliens. He had nodded.
He didn't love the murdering she did, but every serious relationship will encounter at least one seemingly insurmountable problem, and if they could work together to get through it, it was usually smooth sailing afterwards.
He was boring, his job in shipping was boring, but she seemed to genuinely like him. He had even feigned illness once to avoid helping her once, just to see if she would get upset. And she didn't. She had even picked up some flu medicine on her way back from the quarry.
For all her blood lust, he loved her, and he felt that she loved him.
He was boring, he knew that. And, if he was being honest with himself, he didn't believe in space aliens. Still, he made a decision. If there were space aliens, when they did finally catch on and come for them someday, he wouldn't let them capture her. She was an amazing partner, and she'd put up with him all these years. He knew a spot that they had never used, that he didn't think even she knew about. It was the perfect place to hide her body, in case the aliens had some kind of crazy resurrection abilities.
He was boring, but he could be a good husband. If she ever needed him, really needed him, he would be there for her.
For O.R., every time a siren sounds
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