It had become impossible to banish Christine to a dark and distant corner of my mind when I walked through the door of my house. I tried not to think of her in the presence of my wife. How I tried not to think of her! But her voice was being misused, and I could not stand by and watch it happen a moment longer.
I knew how to take lives, silently and without struggle. I spent time tinkering with herbal remedies in my youth. I learned how to heal and how to harm, which substances reaped the most havoc on which parts of the body and the exact dosages that transformed medicine to poison.
Of course I wasn't looking to kill Christine. Only to close off the air supply to one small piece of her. Still, once I recognized what needed to be done, the wild fervor of planning felt very much like how it was to plot a smooth and proper execution.
I tore through the living room on my way to the kitchen. My thoughts were consumed by my destination, my mind's eye focused solely on the cabinet I would need to open in order to access the glass jars containing the prescribed dried leaves and powder.
I passed my wife after many, many hours apart from her without even pausing to look.