[Short Story] - Open Dump

“… Clearing the site of a grand total of 900 lb worth of trash. The members of the so called Trashgram organization told us they are planning to clean the large open dump near route 56 next and are inviting everyone willing to help to join them tomorrow. I will also be there. Back to you, Fred.”

I turned off the television and stared blankly at the reflection of myself in the screen.

Large open dump near route 56, I repeated the words in my head. Near route 56… Open dump… Route 56, the words were on loop in my head.

“Enough!” I said out loud and stood up. “They cannot link it back to me. There’s no way.” I proceeded to walk up and down my living room. “I’ve destroyed all the evidence. I got rid of the knife, I set my clothes on fire, I cleaned everything with bleach, and if there was anything that I might have missed, it must have been destroyed by now. It has to be, right? It’s been three years!” I pulled on my hair and changed direction, making my way towards the kitchen. “But what if it isn’t? What if they can find something still?”

I opened the door of the liquor cabinet and pulled out a bottle of whiskey. “I can’t let that happen. I can’t go to prison. I’ve got kids for Christ’s sake.” I took a large sip from the bottle on my way back to the living room.

“Okay, Thomas, think. What new information can they get from the body?” Sitting down on the couch I took another large sip. “That she’s been stabbed twice, the depth and position of the wounds, and–…* I only stared blankly in front of me when I remembered.

Three years ago my then wife and I got into an argument late at night. She had wanted to divorce me and take the children from me, only allowing me to see them every fortnight or occasionally pick them up from school. Things heated up and at some point I slapped her. Nothing too serious, I only wanted her to shut up and listen. She, however, wouldn’t have it and started slapping me back with full force, at which point I managed to grab her by both her hands and throw her to the ground. For some reason I reached for the knife on the counter and pointed it at her. She begged me to put it down and I can still remember yelling at her that she either stays or dies.

With tears rolling down her cheeks, she pointed at the envelope on the kitchen table. “I want you to sign the divorce papers, Thomas. I cannot live with you any longer.” She slowly got back up on her feet but I could feel the rage building inside me. I couldn’t think straight, and when she tried asking me again to put the knife down, I snapped, and stabbed her under her ribs.

She put her arms around me for support and coughed up blood. She desperately needed an ambulance, but I knew had I called for help I would go to prison. The wound was also too much to take care of myself and given she wanted a divorce, she would definitely not keep quiet. I knew I only had one option.

Covered in her blood and soaked with both our tears, I removed the blade and swung it another time. With the initial wound now open, I could feel how life was slowly leaving her, until eventually she collapsed on the floor, dead.

I knew I had to act fast so long as the adrenaline was still present and I wasn’t a crying pile of misery. I grabbed some towels to soak up the blood, wrapped her in them, then dragged her corpse to my car and loaded her in the trunk. I set off without knowing exactly where I’d get rid of her, just driving into the night. The nearby lake would have been easy but I knew that was the first place the police would check. I also couldn’t just dump her without digging a grave because someone would definitely pick up the smell. Driving down route 56 the perfect solution presented itself to me. An open dump. Nobody would ever check an open dump near a high traffic highway, and the rotting smell would be nothing compared to that of the trash.

I dragged her body as far into the dump as I could and turned her on her back to say my goodbyes. “I loved you more than life itself, Isabel. I did. But I am not going to let you take my children from me.” I pulled out the envelope with the divorce papers from my back pocket. “And these…” I crouched and flailed it in front of her face. “You can very much go fuck yourself with these.” Tucking the envelope behind her belt and throwing her shirt over it, I looked at her one final time before covering her with some nearby trash.

They’ll know she wanted to divorce me. They’ll know I lied to them about our marriage being happy. I took another large sip of whiskey.

To join them tomorrow,I realized I still had time if I worked fast. I rushed to my car and sped off to route 56. To my surprise, however, there were at least ten cars parked at the side of the road opposite to the dump. Covered in sweat, I parked behind them and went over to check it out.

“What the hell are you guys doing here? Isn’t the cleaning tomorrow?” I yelled to the first guy I saw, a flashlight on his head so he could see in the dark.

“It is! We just thought we’d do a little surprise for the good folk of Trashgram and bag as much as possible before they arrived. I take it you’re not here for the same reason?” I didn’t know what to answer. The tone of my initial question made it clear I didn’t come to help and even if I tried helping, I couldn’t move the body anywhere with them there. I only stood in place, dumbfounded. “Listen, man, if you’ve got trash to dump, please take a bag over there and stash it with the rest.” His flashlight was pointed directly into my face.

“I only stopped by to check what was going on. I’ll leave you to it.” Defeated, I raised my hand in goodbye and turned around to get back to my car.

The entire way back I was thinking of my next move. On one hand I didn’t want to go to jail, on the other I didn’t want my children to think I was a coward for running. Either way, they were losing their father, the only family they had left.

I pulled over in my driveway, adjusted the rearview mirror to see my own reflection, and made the decision to turn myself in. Knowing they were both asleep upstairs, I knew I had to wake them up to break the news. I sat down on the couch to try and of a way to tell them why I was getting arrested, about how much I loved them, but the more I thought about it, the more I cried. I knew I couldn’t look in their eyes and tell them what I did.

Thus, instead of waking them up, I picked up a pen and a sticky note, and wrote upon it: “John and Stella, whatever happens, I want you to know that I loved you more than anything in the world. Your dad, Thomas.” I left the note, stained with tears, on the living room table, and left for the car.

Same as that night three years ago, I drove without a set course, wishing for a solution to present itself to me like it did then.

To my fortune, it did.

This time in the form of two headlamps coming straight toward me.