Here’s An Excerpt Of The Most Highly Anticipated Book Ever…

 An Angry Woman Says…

I sat in the dark of my apartment for over an hour. The only light came from the street lamp outside my apartment building.

I looked around trying to figure out the number of times I wanted to burn this place down to the ground just like Left Eye tried to do to Andre Rison’s place. Okay, maybe that was an accident. I was just that upset.

I thought about the times I wanted to poison his food and watch him gasp for his last breath. I would then just finish my untouched dinner and then plan his funeral. I wanted him to suffer as much as possible. Then, I’d be happy. Maybe.

I picked up my drink and swirled the ice around in the glass and then ran my hand across the gun. It was lying on the cushion of the couch next to me. I wanted to make sure it was still there. It felt cool to my touch.

Touching it, I thought about all of the arguments, the fights, the lies and the threats that came down to this one moment. I wanted him to die. In my mind, I already died several times inside. I wanted him to hurt just as much as I do now.

For far too long, I put up with his brand of drama like some people put up with a headache. The only difference is that now payback is a bitch.

I didn’t plan on killing him at first, but right now, I didn’t have the strength to live with what he has done. At least what he did to me, I didn’t even want to think about it. My blood ran cold when I did.

Now, sitting here, I realized he could take everything from me. I realized that my happily ever after fairytale was all built on a lie. I looked around again and had to ask myself what would drive a woman to murder?

How did I let it get to this point? I should have left. I should have been strong enough to walk away. It doesn’t matter. I know how I planned to end it. I am going to finish it my way.

I put my drink down on the coffee table and ran my hand across the gun again. It was still there. Where was he? I took a deep breath and waited. Hold on. Wait. You hear that? I heard the familiar jingle of the keys to the front door. He’s home.

I picked up the gun, stood up and aimed it at the door. I wasn’t sure if he would turn on the lights. I prayed he wouldn’t. My hands started to shake.

I felt my palms grow damp under the weight of the gun. There were six bullets in the gun and every one of them belonged to him.

Slowly, the door opened. I heard a voice. Then, a brighter light washed over the room overtaking the light from the street lights outside.