“The Loser” (A Short Story)

By MollyMolotov666

PART 1: Todd

Todd began to panic as he frantically searched for his inhaler, before finally finding it wedged between his couch cushions. The 38 year old gamer then turned his mic away from his face in order to administer his medication as quietly as possible. He was worried that if his voice didn’t stop shaking, everyone at home would know just how scared he was of losing this match.

He took one more puff before carefully pulling the mic back into its place. “Let’s get it on, motherfuckers!” he barked loudly in faux confidence while waiting for his opponent to choose a fighter.

Though Todd had known this moment was coming for a while now, he simply couldn’t have prepared himself for the rush of emotions that he was experiencing. His desperate desire to win was only matched by the anxiety of possibly losing, leaving him wondering if anyone could hear the sound of his panicked heartbeat from over his microphone.

28 other players had already been wiped out from the tournament, while only Todd and his current opponent remained. Soon, only one of them would be left standing in the winners circle, leaving the match’s loser to suffer in public humiliation and defeat.

The victor of this match would receive $5000, as well as bragging rights as this year’s world champion.

After months of training and honing his skill, it was finally time for Todd to show the world exactly what he was made of. The controller was sweaty in his hand as he sat there in his living room, dying for just a taste of victory.

Then, the battle soundtrack began to play in the background, signalling him to focus on his TV screen. Despite this being a home tourney, eyes from all around the world were locked onto their screens as the two pixelated warriors readied themselves for combat.

The fighters were primed, and the players were ready to go as the announcer loudly exclaimed: “Round 1!”

That is when the unthinkable happened: Todd’s power went out. The entire house went black.

Todd screamed in horror, quickly running to his front door for answers, but to his shock, he was just in time to see the electric company’s van drive by. There was also an orange note that was taped to his front door.

“Notice of Termination,” it said in big, bold letters.

Todd recoiled as he heard his wife, Diane, stomping aggressively down the stairs. “What the fuck happened?” she screamed, her shrill voice echoing throughout the house.

When she saw the orange letter in her husband’s hands, her eyes became as wide as tea saucers. “What’s your excuse this time? And don’t tell me it’s because you ordered the PS5! I told you, we can’t afford that right now!”

Her husband just stood there, staring at the floor, completely ashamed of himself. Todd noticed just how quickly she came to the right conclusion about him, and it tore him apart inside. Yes, he ordered the new console instead of paying the bills, exactly as his wife had guessed.

“It’s a business investment,” he started, but she cut him off with a firm slap to the face.

Her hand rose up faster than he could have dodged, striking Todd across the mouth hard enough to bust his lip wide open. The man stumbled backwards, hitting the floor behind him with a solid thud.

Todd was cowering at his wife’s feet, guarding his face with his hands when she began to laugh at him.

“Fight back! Do something! Show me you’re a man, you asshole! When was the last time you’ve even gotten a hard-on, huh?” She kicked him again. “You’re not a real man at all, are you? It’s why you still play video games, isn’t it? You never grew up, you bastard!”

“Please, stop hitting me!” he yelled, but was promptly ignored. Yet another strike made contact with him, this time, right in the shoulder, “I just wanted to win the tourney! That’s all! I could have won, too, if the power didn’t go out!”

“Fuck you, you selfish prick!” Diane screamed, her fist coming down hard against the bridge of his nose.

He screamed in pain. “If I would have won, all of our problems would have been solved! That prize money would have been enough to fix everything! It’s not my fault that I lost! The power was cut off!”

The barrage of insults and strikes continued to rain down on Todd’s face and body as he feebly tried to dodge.

Her voice was shrill, dripping with rage: “It’s never your fault! You were the one who didn’t pay the bill! You did that! You are the reason we had lost power to begin with!”

Todd began to cry. He sobbed and begged for her forgiveness, but his wife responded with the cruelest thing she could have ever said to him: “Misha Clanton was right about you, you really are a sad little loser! I wish I never married you!”

His eyes changed the very moment that name came out of her mouth. That was when his wife realized she’d gone too far, but it was too late to apologize now.

The physical alteration was over in mere seconds.

Todd couldn’t remember getting his hands on a knife, or how it ended up in his wife’s neck, but that didn’t stop him from doing what needed to be done. After a decade of abuse at the hands of his wife, she was quickly buried in the basement, never to hit or bully anyone ever again.

Her last words would haunt Todd for the rest of his life, because yes, Misha was in fact right about him.

Sure, he was a loser, who could never win in life. He was also a deadbeat, and he wasn’t going to amount to anything. Todd knew it to be true, and wouldn’t be able contest this fact, even if he wanted to. All the same, his wife never should have rubbed it in his face.

“You should never have mentioned her, Diane,” he said out loud after burying her corpse in the basement. “If you actually wanted to live longer, you wouldn’t have said that to me,” and with those words, Todd went upstairs to take a shower.

Once he was clean and freshly changed, he was off to pay off the electric bill with his wife’s emergency credit card. Then, he needed to make a stop at the Home Depot for some necessary building supplies.

After all, the dirt floor in the basement wasn’t going to cement itself.

To his shock, Todd didn’t feel bad about what he had just done to his wife. Not in the least. In fact, as he went on about his chores, all Todd could think of was how much relief it felt to kill his wife, and more so, how amazing it would feel to kill that other thorn in his side, as well.

PART 2: Misha

Misha Clanton was Todd’s first girlfriend.

The two met in the 9th grade, and though he was one year older than her, they were in the same grade. It was her first day of class in a new school, and he was the only person to greet her. They hit it off immediately, and Misha even let Todd hold her hand as he walked her home from school that day.

Their relationship started out extremely well. Todd and Misha walked everywhere together, hand in hand, stealing little kisses between classes, and of course, passing notes in the hallway, just as the other young couples would often do at their age. After school, they’d often make out at the bus stop until it was time to go home, only to repeat it all the next day.

This was their daily routine, but their relationship changed the moment Misha had started to become popular. Slowly, Misha started pulling back from Todd, spending nearly all of her time with the cool kids. He didn’t know why she was behaving like this at first, but soon, it became crystal clear after confronting her one night as they walked home from a movie.

Misha ended up confirming Todd’s biggest fears.

“Listen, I really like you, Todd,” she started with a soft but firm tone, “but I really would like to date other people. Can we still be friends?”

He stuttered in shock, “What the hell, Misha? Why do you want to break up?”

“People have been teasing me for dating you.”

Her words knocked the wind out of his lungs. “What? Why are they teasing you? What’s wrong with dating me?”

She began to nervously fiddle with her acrylic thumb nail, as if avoiding eye contact. “It’s not important. I just want to date other people, and I’m sorry about that, but I really do hope we can still talk to each other. I like you so much. We have so much in common, and…”

Todd cut her off. “No. Just don’t.”

When he stormed away, Misha didn’t chase after him, which, weirdly enough, had hurt him even worse. Once he got home, Todd ran to his room and locked the door behind him.

In Todd’s nearly 16 years on earth, he had never been so furious. His very first girlfriend had broken up with him for, in his mind, purely selfish reasons. Misha clearly only dated people for clout purposes, he thought to himself while pacing frantically around his room, nearly panicking from the sheer humiliation of it all.

Misha was beginning to look less like a girl he loved, and more like the selfish bitch who had hurt him, and by tomorrow, everyone in school would know she dumped him because he wasn’t good enough for her image. The bitch broke his heart for clout, and he simply couldn’t take it anymore.

Todd stalked her social media. He saved every picture, and screenshotted every post where she said she loved him. By morning, his phone was filled with their selfies, the depressing keepsakes of them together in happier times.

He went to school as usual, quickly heading to breakfast in the hopes of seeing his ex, but once he arrived at their usual table, Todd was horrified by what he saw. One of the popular boys had taken his seat, the chair that was closest to Misha’s.

Misha’s clique, who were casually hanging out before Todd’s arrival, had gone awkwardly silent as he sat down to eat his lunch. After a moment or two of silence, one of Misha’s friends finally spoke up.

“Um, excuse me,” she said, “but it’s pretty cringe that you’re still trying to eat with us. Please go away.”

Something in Todd snapped, and he couldn’t control the vitriol pouring from his mouth.

“Oh, go fuck yourself, bitch,” he yelled, slamming his lunch tray on the table. Everyone jumped, and the entire cafeteria went silent. Todd’s pancakes and eggs sprayed all over the table as a few of Misha’s guy friends had quickly got between them, protecting her.

Todd’s words were cold and angry: “Do you really think she likes any of you? She only broke up with me because you guys didn’t approve. Misha doesn’t date because she likes someone. She dates for clout! She doesn’t like any of us! Can’t you see she’s using all of you?”

Everyone, except for Misha and Todd, started to laugh.

One of her friends, another popular girl, said “Wow, what did you use Todd for, Misha? His food stamps?”

Her face was red with embarrassment as she Misha retorted with a dismissive scoff. “Ugh. Knock it off, Katie. I liked him because I thought he was cool. When I realized he wasn’t, I bolted. It’s not that deep.”

A teacher came and broke everyone up before Todd could explode in a fit of violence. He was instructed to sit elsewhere for the rest of the year, but that wasn’t the end of it. Far from it. In fact, the drama between Todd and Misha had only just begun.

Any time Todd walked by her, in a breath barely over a whisper, he’d insult and threaten her, saying things like “I wish I could punch your lights out without going to jail,” and “I hate you, you fucking slut.”

By their sophomore year, he was sliding notes into her locker and sending her threatening emails. She would save them as receipts, but was hesitant to use them at first, feeling strangely guilty for Todd’s bizarre behavior.

“He was perfectly normal until breaking up with him. Maybe I’m the problem?” she often thought to herself,” but whether she deserved to or not, the guilt felt like a heavy weight that Misha found herself carrying around for a very long time.

She felt like she almost deserved the abuse, because honestly, Todd wasn’t wrong about her. Misha did break up with him for clout purposes. He had the right to be angry, Misha had reasoned. After all, Todd didn’t do anything wrong, technically. He just wasn’t cool enough for her image. She’d be bitter, too, if in his shoes.

By mid-Junior year, Misha was being teased by her friends again. Todd was talking openly in class about what it was like to kiss her their freshman year, and the popular kids were having a field day, laughing and making jokes at Misha’s expense. Trying to be reasonable, Misha tracked down Todd after school, to calmly ask him to stop embarrassing her.

Todd scoffed in her face. “I’m going to tell everyone we fucked, just to humiliate you. I know how much they tease you about me, and I’m going to make it worse, bitch!”

Misha seethed with rage, “If you do, two can play at that game. I’ll tell everyone you raped me. They’ll believe me because you’re nobody. You are just a sad little loser, and everyone knows it.” Those words haunted Todd, even before his wife invoked them during their final fight, they echoed into his very soul for decades after.

“I’ll fucking kill you, bitch,” he huffed, but Misha dismissed his threat with one of her own.

“I’m always two steps ahead. You’ll never win when it comes to me, so give up while you still can. I’m not taking your bullshit anymore.”

Misha never gave him a chance to retreat, though. Her first strike against Todd was also her finisher.

Immediately after this encounter, she compiled all of her receipts over the years, and delivered them to their school principal. Sobbing uncontrollably, Misha pleads for help. She technically told the truth about how Todd was stalking her, threatening her life, and wouldn’t stop sending those crazy letters and emails to her, despite being asked to stop. The only hint of a lie was on the subject of Misha’s emotional state. Misha wasn’t scared, or traumatized, or as victimized as she made herself out to be.

The enraged teenager was actually on the warpath.

Despite her act, Misha wasn’t in the least bit afraid of her ex, but by the time she was finished with Todd’s reputation, everyone else was. Misha told everyone who’d listen how Todd was harassing and stalking her, freely showing off the receipts as proof.

By the time Misha was finished in her unholy task, everyone in the entire city knew that Todd was dysfunctional, dangerous, and to be avoided at all costs. He had no friends. The few he had before all of this had bailed on him, leaving him in complete isolation.

Even his parents started to see him in a different light after being made aware of their child’s behavior.

Todd then freaked out early in his senior year, making his terrible situation even worse. A security guard had overheard him threatening to blow up the school because Misha was giving him the silent treatment. Todd was promptly arrested, and refused the privilege of graduating with the rest of the class.

Instead of going to graduation, Todd was charged, sentenced, and forced to spend what could have been his college years in state prison. He stayed there for a total of 4 and a half years.

Once released from incarceration, all it took was a simple background check to prevent him from various job and education opportunities over the years. As a result, Todd was forced to take menial jobs, working barely minimum wage at retail and restaurant positions in order to make ends meet.

This wasn’t his fault, though, Todd thought to himself. No. The fault was on Misha, and Misha alone.

She was the one who ran a smear campaign, ruining his good name. It was Misha who broke Todd’s heart, clearly triggering some kind of  mental illness in him. As far as he was concerned, every single problem he had could easily be traced back to Misha, and there was no convincing him otherwise.

In Todd’s head, he was the victim, and he needed to be avenged.

He spent years trying to cyber stalk and bully her, but Misha blocked him every single time, refusing to take the bait. After a while, Todd got bored and stopped with the insulting and threatening emails, and decided to just watch her life online, instead. Which he did, for years.

PART 3: The Gun

Nobody ever noticed the disappearance of Todd’s late wife, Diane. She didn’t work, had no friends, and had previously been disowned by her family only a few years ago. There simply wasn’t anyone available to call in a missing person’s report.

Todd was finally free to follow his dreams, but he had only one goal in mind: Getting revenge on Misha.

After burying his wife’s body in the basement, Todd began to lay down a thick layer of cement to further protect his terrible secret from any chance of a future discovery.

“God, I hated you,” he said to his late wife as he cemented her into her tomb. “I only dated you because I didn’t want to die alone. Misha ruined my life, and she destroyed my self respect, too, for good measure. That must have made it so much easier for a bitch like you to weasel your way into my life. Nobody else would date me, except for you. That’s how terrible my reputation was. You couldn’t find anyone because you’re a bigger piece of shit than I am, and it’s why we both had to settle. I never would have had to settle if it weren’t for her.”

Every night since the murder, while in bed, Todd would stare sleeplessly up at the ceiling, deep in thought. The last words of his wife were trapped in his head, keeping him awake. Why did she have to mention his damned ex girlfriend? The only person he hated more than his wife was that evil bitch, Misha.

Todd wondered how she was doing.

Though he promised himself he wouldn’t do this anymore, Todd grabbed his phone, and logged onto Twitter. Using his alternative, secret account, he went snooping around, seeing what he could find. Desperate for some news of her suffering, he was left disappointed, because Misha’s feed was so happy that it had made Todd’s chest hurt with envy.

Misha’s posts were upbeat, positive, friendly and relatable. She seemed so down to earth on Twitter, presenting herself as so sweet and gentle, the kind of woman that anyone would want to be friends with.

This only served to make Todd feel even more unhinged.

He should have stopped looking, but Todd couldn’t stop himself. He promised himself a month ago that he’d stop stalking her social media, but he had clearly fallen off the ladder.

Unlike his dead-end job, which barely paid enough for rent and food, Misha was a professional writer. She even had her own website, promoting her books for sale. The link was pinned at the top of her profile. He hated how proud she was, bragging about her book sales every few posts or so.

He could hardly stand it, knowing his worst enemy was living her dreams while he squandered his life, performing slave labor in order to survive.

When Todd scrolled to her most recent pictures, he cringed with jealousy. Misha looked so happy with her new boyfriend. The two had gone on a romantic getaway a few weeks ago, as evidenced by their blissful, wholesome selfies. They looked so happy together as they kissed next to a big, beautiful waterfall.

Other Twitter posts of theirs showed them dancing under the stars, smiling lovingly in each other’s arms. He was twirling her around in a circle, her dress spinning around her like a puff of red smoke. They looked so ethereal together, like two characters on the cover of a romantic fantasy book.

Todd wanted to scream.

He was pulled from his thoughts by the familiar sound of gunfire, which was a shockingly regular occurrence in his dingy, low income neighborhood. Instinctively, Todd ducked down to the floor, and waited patiently for the shooting to end.

It was over in seconds. There were 6 loud pops, followed by a few screams, then the unmistakable sound of tires squealing loudly while making a hasty getaway. Unbothered, Todd stood back up, and went to the kitchen to get himself a beer.

Just another drive-by, Todd thought to himself while going outside to assess the property damage, cold can in hand. Thankfully, nobody was hurt, and his windows and property were all unharmed, but something shiny had caught his eyes when walking by the bushes in his front yard.

Hidden in the weeds, he found a gun, discarded and still hot from the shooting that had just taken place. Todd didn’t think twice about suddenly pocketing the firearm in his jacket, quickly hiding it from the view of any nosy neighbors.

“Finally, some good luck for once!” Todd whispered under his breath in subdued triumph.

This gun couldn’t be traced back to him! This was perfect timing, and a clear sign to follow his instincts, no matter how foul those instincts might be.

Over the course of the next few days, all Todd could think about was committing murder.

The gun felt heavy in his hand as he practiced posing with it in the mirror, daydreaming about the moment when he would finally show his evil ex-girlfriend who’s boss. Very soon, though, his idle daydreams had turned into cold, hard planning.

After running countless scenarios in his head, Todd finally made a decision. His ex would meet her end at the end of a botched home invasion. After all, Misha made it almost too easy for him. Her social media was filled with selfie after selfie, video after video, basically giving him a road map of the entire layout of her house and property. It was like she was trying to get murdered, he said to himself in justification of his actions.

Todd brooded over her hundreds of pictures, seething with homicidal fury. Misha had it all; a mini mansion, a nice car, and lived a privileged lifestyle; a privileged life that Todd felt should have been his.

“This bitch didn’t work as hard as I did,” the troubled man muttered to himself while admiring her marble top kitchen counters. She clearly didn’t deserve any of this. He worked his entire life with nothing to show for it, and she got everything by simply being born pretty.

It wasn’t fair, Todd thought bitterly to himself as he unbuckled his pants.

While scrolling through Misha’s Instagram, his eyes filled with tears of shame. Unable to stop himself, Todd began to stroke himself to one of Misha’s many bikini selfies. Though she was smiling in the picture on his screen, posing in a tight little orange bikini, in Todd’s head, Misha was crying on his cock, his gun’s barrel pressed firmly against her temple.

She was a desperate and drooling mess, doing whatever she needed to in order to survive.

Todd’s toes curled in delight as he fantasized about slamming her head down even harder, forcing her to deep-throat him like in the movies. He was getting off on the fear in her eyes as she looked up at him with mascara tears rolling down her face, her mouth and throat forcibly filled to maximum capacity with his huge, throbbing cock.

“Your life is in my hands, Misha,” Todd moaned out loud as he dreamed about pulling her hair so tightly that he could practically feel little strands breaking under the pressure of his grip.

“I could shoot you any moment, so you better give me reason not to, you fucking bitch.”

Todd felt his toes curl as he envisioned his victim being slammed on the floor, skull fucked like a useless piece of meat. He imagined how sweet Misha’s whimpers would sound if he were to shove the gun barrel in her mouth and be forced to fellate it like it was a cock.

The way the bitch in his head grovelled submissively at his feet, sucking the shaft of his gun, made Todd’s dick throb with desire.

“Show me who’s boss, bitch,” Todd moaned as he imagined pulling the gun out of Misha’s mouth before shoving his cock in its place. His eyes rolled in the back of his head as she took him all the way down, swallowing him down completely before repeating herself.

Again and again, she bobbed her head until finally bringing her rapist to orgasm.

In Todd’s head, he was cumming all over her red, sobbing face, while forcing a little of it in her mouth with his finger. In reality, he was nutting all over his dirty bed sheets, before weakly collapsing backwards into his pillows where he immediately started to cry again.

“Fucking bitch,” Todd wailed, throwing his phone across the room.

Goddamn it, he couldn’t even cum without thinking of her.

PART 4: Preparation

The local shooting range quickly became Todd’s second home.

He spent hours there, training himself, honing his aim to perfection, and preparing himself for his final act of vengeance. When Todd fired his gun, he felt powerful. Posing like an alpha male for social media, he took selfie after selfie, getting more attention than he ever had before.

Before long, he was writing out a list of supplies he needed to buy from the local Superstore:

NEEDED: Black duct tape, 25ft rope, Taser, Bear grade mace, Ski mask/black, thick wool gloves, rubber gloves, 25/25 foot nylon tarp, shovel, lime, ammonia, a large duffle bag, a mop and bucket, and black trash bags

Todd watched and rewatched Misha’s videos. He studied her home and property carefully, finalizing his plan to break in as quietly as possible. If things went according to plan, he’d be in there no longer than 10 minutes, tops.

It would be so simple, he thought to himself.

1. Put on the mask and gloves.

2. Take his bag of supplies in with him, and break in through the garage’s side door. Misha often keeps this unlocked because she’s always forgetting her key. This, he discovered while watching one of her Facebook Live feeds. She playfully mentions it in passing. One could have easily missed it, but not Todd.

3. Todd then would murder her in bed. She’d be helpless in bed by 8. Misha was always alluding to her inability to stay awake after 8pm, and this was crucial information to someone like her stalker.

4. He was then going to do a quick clean up, and remove any sign of his presence.

5. Steal cash and jewels, just to make it look like a robbery.

6. Misha’s corpse would then be rolled up in the tarp, and carried to his truck. Todd would then slide her into the back, securing the truck bed lid in place, hiding the payload within from outside view.

7. Todd was then going to take her body back to his house. Her final resting place would be in his backyard. He was going to bury the girl in the garden after covering her with lime.

8. Anything used gets burned to remove any evidence, like receipts, masks, gloves, clothes, etc.

Todd was ready to go. Everything was in order for him to commit the perfect murder. The problem? He had to wait three more days.

In three days, Misha was going to be alone for the weekend, and there would be less of a chance of being caught in the act. As stated in his social media, her boyfriend would be vacationing with his family then, and Misha planned to stay in for a “self care” night.

Todd laughed at how stupid his victims were for sharing so many details on social media. Without their helpful status updates, he’d ever have been able to form such a well defined, clever plan as this one was. All he had to do was wait.

Six hours before it was time for him to enact his plan, Todd received the surprise of his life: An email from one Misha Clanton:

“Dear Todd,

I hope this message finds you well. It’s been 20 years since we met, and in all those years, I’ve never stopped feeling guilty for the way things ended between us. My current situation has turned quite abruptly, and I’d like to be able to make peace while we still can. Please come to my house tonight at 8, if possible.

-Love Misha.”

Todd was confused. After 20 years, why did she have to seek out redemption now?

His mind raced. Did she know about his plan to murder her? If so, how could she have figured it out? What in the hell was her end game?

Or, counterpoint, what if she were serious? Maybe Misha really did want forgiveness? His heart soared at the thought. Hearing her actual, real heartfelt apology might have been just enough to cure his troubled mind.

What did she mean by “While we can?” in her email?

Though there was temptation to stand her up, Todd was far too curious to see Misha’s end game. He desperately needed answers.

PART 5: Boom

Todd arrived a few minutes early, and cautiously approached the front door, unsure of what to expect. Before he could knock, however, an intercom by the doorbell beeped loudly, and a sickly woman’s voice could be heard from over the speaker.

“Wipe your feet before you come in,” she weakly commanded, “The door is unlocked. I’m in the dining room, just down the hall, opposite the stairwell.”

“Who the hell was that?” he whispered quietly to himself before entering the house. Surely that wasn’t Misha! That voice sounded like it was from a dying person, not a young and vibrant young lady like Misha. What the hell was going on here?

He followed the voice’s instructions, admiring the sheer opulence of her home as he made his way to the kitchen. Bitterly, he was reminded how she had everything, and he had nothing. Surely, Misha didn’t deserve such luxury. She was evil, soulless and cruel. He was the one who should have these things, not her.

Misha’s entire house filled Todd with shame. How did he work his entire life, and still couldn’t afford a big screen TV, or a leather lounge set? Why didn’t he have a fully decked out entertainment center, as well?

Seething, he found himself in the kitchen, and what he saw knocked the wind out of his lungs.

“Misha?” he asked, unsure of what he was looking at.

“Todd,” Misha said coldly before breaking out into a deep cough. “Be a dear, and fetch me a glass of water, will you? Cups are above the sink.”

Without thinking, he did as he was told, filing a glass from her tap before handing it to her.

“What happened to you?” Todd asked, earnestly alarmed and concerned by the vision of illness before him.

Misha was in a wheelchair, sitting at her dinner table with a thick quilt covering her legs and feet. There was a laptop in front of her, and next to it, a nearly empty glass of wine, stained with her red lipstick. She closed the computer, and took a sip before clearing her throat. This person before him wasn’t the picture of vitality and health on her social media!

He felt lied to. This person was bald, dangerously thin, and clearly dying of some kind of illness.

Misha’s voice was weak and thick with pain. “This isn’t public knowledge yet, but I’ve been battling cancer for about a year now. It took a nasty turn a week ago, and frankly, I don’t have a lot of time left. I need to tie up any and all loose ends. That’s where you come in.”

Todd cleared his throat and sat down at the table, opposite Misha. He didn’t know what was going on, but he didn’t trust it. “Go on.”

“I want you to know I forgive you.” Her tone was earnest.

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “What?” he scoffed loudly, “You forgive me? I didn’t do anything to you to forgive. You ruined my life!”

Misha scoffed. “I haven’t even seen you in 20 years! How could I have had the opportunity?”

Todd’s eyes filled with tears. “You’re why I didn’t graduate! You’re why I have a criminal record! I couldn’t get a good job because of it! I was rejected from work opportunities that could have raised me up above poverty, and it’s all your fault!”

She laughed at him, “You simply must be joking!”

The unhinged man in her kitchen continued: “Decent girls didn’t want to date me because of what you did to me! I had to settle with an abusive bitch! It was all your fault! If you didn’t ruin my reputation, I could have at least married into money or something!”

Misha laughed weakly from her wheelchair. “Are you insane? None of that was my fault. I’m sorry that turning you in for being a freak messed up your ability to get a job, but that’s not my fault.”

“You know what you did! You did it on purpose! You set me up to fail!” Todd then pulled out his gun, and aimed it between his ex-girlfriend’s eyes. “Apologize to me.”

Todd usually felt powerful when his gun was in hand, but not this time. He pointed it at Misha, but she didn’t even flinch. There was no fear in the sickly woman’s eyes. If anything, she seemed amused. Her smirk only served to make him even more angry.

“You want an apology? Fine! I’m sorry you’re a beta male loser who couldn’t find a girl to love you.” Her demented smirk made Todd blush deeply with humiliation.

“Shut up!”

“I’m sorry you can’t take responsibility for your behavior and had to use me as a scapegoat these last 20 years.”

“SHUT UP!” Todd boomed loudly, the gun shaking in his hand.

“And most of all,” Misha sneered coldly, “I’m sorry that you think it’s my fault that you’re still a loser. Do your worst, you garbage can, because I’ll always be two steps ahead of you, you piece of…” A loud gunshot had cut her off. As she slumped over in her wheelchair, dying of a gunshot wound to the chest, the sickly woman smiled one last time.

“Two steps ahead,” she repeated, and with that, Misha was gone.

Todd couldn’t believe this was happening. He had planned so carefully, and dreamed about this moment for so long, but now it was here, and it’s nothing like he wanted it to be. All Todd could do was stare at Misha’s corpse with pure hatred as it smiled back without a care in the world.

He didn’t feel avenged. In fact, he only felt empty inside.

The plan he had so carefully cultivated went out the window. He was supposed to be sanitizing the crime scene now, and preparing to steal the body, but no. All he could do was stare numbly, confused, lost, and completely unfulfilled.

Todd was only pulled from his fugue state by the sound of the back door opening.

“Honey, I brought Chinese food!” a man’s voice echoed throughout the house.

Dropping his gun like an amateur, Todd didn’t wait to meet Misha’s boyfriend, and before the back door had time to close, he was gone.

PART 6: Confession

Killing Misha wasn’t the experience that he had expected it to be.

Todd thought he’d feel some kind of relief, or at very least, a sense of pride or accomplishment, but there was nothing. He felt absolutely numb. The fact that Misha died laughing at him didn’t help matters, either. What Todd did to her wasn’t justice, and he knew it. This wasn’t even revenge.

It only served as a way for Misha to hurt him one final time.

Immediately after going home that night, Todd bought tickets to Canada, and began to pack his bags. He was only going to take what he could carry, and anything left behind would be considered abandoned, but that was a small price for his freedom.

By 8 pm tomorrow, he’d be in Ontario, he thought hopefully to himself, and would be safe to start a new life.

Local news was buzzing with his crime within an hour of the murder, filling him in on the investigation as he packed. Misha’s boyfriend found her dead, and immediately called 9-11. He didn’t see anything or hear anyone in the house. The murder weapon was found, but no other evidence had been reported at the time. There was even a short interview with the boyfriend.

He gushed about how much he loved her, and how Misha was a pillar of the community. The boyfriend listed her virtues, while leaving out her flaws, as well as her obvious near fatal illness. As Todd contemplated this, there was a loud knock on his front door. He didn’t need to look to know who was there.

Though Todd planned to go out fighting, he couldn’t have anticipated the smoke grenade that shattered his bedroom window. His room was instantly pitch black, and the air rendered completely unsuitable for breathing.

There was no escape. No way out. In seconds, Todd was promptly arrested, and taken into custody.

Over the course of the next week, everything Todd had tried to hide was dragged out in the open, for all the world to see. Diane’s corpse was found early into the investigation, still buried in her shallow grave in the basement.

His handwritten murder plan, notes, shopping lists, and tools were all discovered during a very thorough house raid. There was even security footage of him at the store, buying everything needed for a murder. It was everything the prosecution needed in order to cook him.

That, however, wasn’t even the best part!

During a quick search of Misha’s house, the feds had discovered a series of hidden cameras, all still actively recording. To the shock of law enforcement, after a quick search of her CPU, their investigation had led to the unthinkable: Misha had recorded her own murder.

The police could see with their own eyes as her murderer walked into her house without knocking, confronted her in the kitchen, and murdered her in cold blood.

Misha’s laptop had also proved to be a treasure trove of damning evidence against her stalker and eventual murderer. Alongside the screenshots and pictures that proved that Todd stalked her for over two decades, but Misha had also recorded the most incriminating evidence of all: It was a video simply entitled “My Final Confession.”

Here’s the transcript what was played at Todd’s trial:

“If you’re watching this, my plan came to perfect fruition. I’m Misha Clanton, and I’m dying of cancer, but my family won’t let me go in peace. I’ve begged my doctors for euthanasia, but my reasonable request was promptly rejected for “humanitarian” reasons. The very people who have been tasked to have my best care in mind have rejected my basic right to die with dignity, and therefore, I have chosen to take matters into my own hands.”

She cleared her throat, shifting painfully in her wheelchair, her heart monitor slowly beeping in the background.

“I have decided to kill two birds with one stone. For the last 20 years, I’ve been stalked by a man by the name of Todd Bruce. We met in high school, and he’s wanted to kill me for more than two decades now. In high school, he used to threaten, abuse and harass me, and continued to do so, even after graduation. He went to jail for this.”

Misha visibly shuttered. “There’s documented evidence of this abuse saved on my hard drive, just in case there’s any doubt. I had to block him on all social media accounts, but Todd still managed to find ways to look at my social media. I never figured out how, but I think he’s been cat-fishing me or something.”

Her voice started to shake with rage, “I noticed whenever I posted anything at all, Todd would be over on his own pages, making commentary about whatever I was talking about. He never named names, but there’s no way it was a coincidence. Our pages syncing up like that happened far too often for it to be an accident. However, if it’s true, that means I must have one of his dummy accounts added to my Facebook. Needless to say, I find this thought a bit overwhelming, if I’m to be honest.”

Misha’s cat jumped on her lap, and she started to pet it sweetly as she spoke.

“Now you’re likely asking yourself the question ‘If I have him blocked, why am I spying on him?’ Valid question. It’s because after years of death threats, it makes sense to keep an eye out for trouble, don’t you think?” She laughed darkly, “It’s also because his social media is the place where I’d go whenever I want to feel better about myself. Have you ever met the guy?”

“Todd Bruce is so pathetic that he increases my self-esteem, just by existing. I can look at his sad sack life online, and be thankful that it’s not mine. Also, frankly, I get pleasure seeing him suffer. He deserves every bad thing that has ever happened to him. I laugh when he cries, because every time he sad-posts, an angel gets its wings.”

“As for the threatening posts that I could use as proof, he’s careful to not point them directly at me, or to be overtly obvious in his animosity. For example, Todd once posted ‘Going to the gun range. I wish they could let me bring my own targets.’ When someone asked him what he’d bring, he simply said ‘His ex.’ I’m his only real ex. He was talking about me! That’s not the only example. They go on and on, but that’s not the point.”

“The point is this,” she continued while petting her cat, “I realized two things. 1: Todd really did want me to die, and 2: I wanted Todd to suffer. I liked it when he suffered. That’s when I came up with my master plan. Two birds, one stone.” Misha laughed darkly, “Knowing that fool like I do, I guarantee this: If my own family won’t put me out of my misery, I know that Todd will. In fact, I’d bet money on it.”

“I admit here and now that I want to commit suicide, and I’m taking Todd down with me. If you’re watching this, Todd, then it worked. I’m dead, and your life is ruined. I’m no longer in pain, and yours has only just begun. Enjoy prison, you piece of shit.”

The video ended, and the entire courtroom was left in silence for a moment to process their shock. That video was followed up by another one. This one was taken by the hidden cameras found in her house. It showed his entire crime, from multiple different angles, captured for the judge and jury to see firsthand.

It clearly showed Todd Bruce murdering Misha in a violent rage.

Todd felt like the biggest pawn in the universe. He was played, tricked, and now, his life was over. There was no way he’d be getting any less than 50 years for what he’s done. All the poor fool could do was sit there in the courtroom and cry.

This wasn’t his fault, though, he thought to himself bitterly.

Misha had clearly set him up. This was her fault.

THE END

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