I had unfairly taken something that was not lawfully mine. As I entrapped him as my own and did not care about her, his wife’s feelings.

As I robbed her of her opportunity to fight for what was rightfully hers. I never challenged myself long enough to give a damn about the family that I watched them build.  As I disrespected their bed, their vows, their sanctity, their holy matrimony and their perfect union. I did not cry as I desecrated what she thought was forever and always hers. I did not regret my actions as I manipulated his weakness and vulnerability, as I took advantage of what she could not give him, as I played on his needs as a man. I took this woman’s husband as my own. I became what he thought he needed, what he thought he wanted and what he thought he didn’t have in her. I became his mistress, his wife behind closed doors. I became his best hidden secret, his addiction and his craving. I marveled in the fact that I was slowly but surely dividing a house. That I was tearing down what once stood as one. I selfishly laughed at the repulsive truth that I was responsible for the broken heart of a woman that she not yet knew she had.

I was now the victor. No longer the victim. I was now the home wrecker. No longer the one in a wrecked home.

I had stolen another woman’s husband. I played with him, used him, and manipulated him. I gave him my hurt. My pain. My sorrow. I gave him my past. My holes. My broken soul. I gave him what I had long ago received from my own. I filled my void with his wife’s future pain and misery. I justified my actions with false reasoning that hurt people hurt people. I shamefully rejoiced in the anticipation of the questions that she’d ask him. Questions that I knew would never have satisfying answers.

The why’s, the who’s, the embarrassment, the confusion, the tears, the grief, but most of all….why her husband?

I’d send him on his way with my sex deep in his pores, revealing images of me burrowed deep in his brain, and the recent memory of all we’d done together on his mind. He’d foolishly and naively  think that I’d forever be….but only I was privy to the knowledge that my deed had been done. My misfortune and heartache had been spread. All because I wanted, I needed, stupidly and without explanation another woman, another wife to hurt as I was. Faintly hoping her ache would dull my own. Secretly wishing her pain would surpass my pain.

Forcing her company to my misery.

Bringing her unwillingly to my dark place.

I stole another woman’s husband just as someone had stolen mine.

~CeCe

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Books by CeCe