Green venom flowed throughout the arms of that who I hated from the start. Stephen’s brawny arms enclosed around my beloved’s neck. Feet dangling, Amy’s fragile figure, starved by Stephen, couldn’t breathe any longer. Her knees fell to the ground. The sound of her neck twisting in a 360 degree angle reverberated through my legs. Her neck, skin stretching from north to south, snapped into a puddle of dark crimson on the ground. Never before had my anger shown through my eight beady eyes.
His feet scuttled along the wooden floor. Unlike most times, I had the advantage. Stephen’s four shots of Polar Ice vodka disoriented each step he took. To him, the hallways seemed to be a maze in which every time he went forward, it was a step backward. My eight eyes allowed me to see the focal point of the corner in the bathroom. I swerved into the bathroom, hurrying into the tight corner. His back slammed against the wall. He looked into the corner, reaching out to me; his hands were too large. Eventually, he left.
Once I knew Stephen had retired for the night, I went and found a sect of flies in the yard outside. I crept along the high-cut grass, making sure they wouldn’t be able to see me through their peripheral vision. A stench arose from the crusty poop they lay eating. On the count of three, I seized their bodies. I broke their wings, disabling their flight. My jaws tore through their bodies, yellow liquid oozed from their organs. Then, with every muscle in body, I pushed the dead flies through my skin, reviving them with my digestive fluids.
The floor creaked when I walked back into the house. Stephen, delirious and with no idea what was happening, held a knife this time. His keen sense of hearing must’ve led him back to the corner, the only safe place I had in the house. The pronounced point on the end of the knife could pierce my body at any given moment. Before he had the chance, I dislodged the flies from my abdomen. They shot out at his eyes. Screaming in agony, he fell to the ground. The screaming continued until the flies eyes had become his own. He saw generations of flies being killed, crushed by the foot of humans. His sobriety, rushing back to him like a freight train, allowed him to realize the act against his wife he had just committed.