Simple Vindiation Part 1

Lumped in a bloody mass in the corner of their living room, Rita looked up through her cracked reading glasses.

"Keith ..." She attempted.

But that would be the last word she would ever utter. Keiths axe came down with force practically splitting her shoulder in two, creating a wound as deep as the head of the axe itself.
Keith had to plant his foot against Ritas stomach just to remove his weapon. It left her limp body creating a sucking noise that brought a strange smile to Keith's face. For a moment he stood there, breathing heavily, watching the last semblance of life leave Rita's body.

After 12 long years, it was finally over.

Keith reached forward and gently removed Rita's glasses. For a moment he felt a sliver of remorse, but it was short lived. After what she had done to him and his life, her demise was a fitting end to a life lived, it seemed to Keith, only to bring him pain. With a slow, concentrated squeeze Keith crushed Rita's glasses and winced softly when the shards of glass dug into his callous hand.

"You will never wrong me again." He whispered.

And with that, Keith left the house he and Rita spent over a decade occupying. With him he took only a briefcase of clothes and personal effects, what seemed like a lifetime of memories, and a wedding ring now demoted to a mere key chain, dangling from a ring holding the key to his '87 Corvette Stingray.

"The guys at the office are not going to believe this one." He muttered to himself, chortling heartily.

The air was thick with rain. A swift, cold breeze kissed his cheeks as Keith rounded the front of his car. He didnt have time to appreciate the night, however. There was much to do. He located his car key and unlocked the door. After heaving his luggage into the passenger seat, Keith started the car and backed out of the driveway.

He would never see 1664 Carlington Way ever again.

"God! Why is there never anything good on the radio?" Keith said in an attempt to shift gears from murderer to level-headed driver.

He continued to peruse the few stations that came through to where he was, deep in the woods of northern Wisconsin. Finally George Thorogood's voice leapt out from the speakers.
"One whiskey, one shot, and one beer ... "

"Thats what the fuck I'm talking about!" Keith reveled. The sound of good, classic rock 'n' roll seemed to sedate him from the pain that was creeping up his left arm. He picked what he hoped was the last piece of glass from his palm.

"Bitch." He said. A drop of spittle made its way from his mouth to the dashboard.

Although he hadn't really thought about what he would do if he ever got the balls to kill Rita, his plan was coming together quite nicely. First he would have to leave the country. He estimated a full days worth of driving before he could make it to Mexico.

"Shit ..." Keith said as he looked at the fuel indicator. Half a tank of gas with only a credit card in his possession to use to buy more.

Although he wasn't the head of his class at West Point, Keith wasn't stupid. He knew that from this moment forward he had to leave as little a trace as possible if he wanted to get out of the U.S. undetected. A quick dive into the glove box revealed a cache of bills he and Rita kept for emergencies.

"Emergencies just like this one" he said to himself, chuckling.

$180 would take him pretty far. He hoped far enough.

---

Just 6 months ago, Keith would tell you he had it all. A paid-for house, a loving wife, a great job and a lot to show for a life lived well for a 38 year-old homebuilder. He was young, strong, established and without a worry in the world. Rita would probably agree with him.

One thing Rita wouldnt tell you however, is that every month for the prior 10 years, $2,000 was being pulled from Keith and Ritas joint savings account and placed into an Italy-based trust fund being managed by a man named Johan Fendler. A quarter-million dollars that should belong in Keith's pocket was being used to fabricate a life Rita planned on living once she found a way to get away from him. Since he found out about this, the question haunting Keith has been how she planned on severing ties with him and starting anew, with Johan presumably, in some coastal cottage in Venice or something, for all he knew.

But all the events leading up to this moment werent worth pondering. Keith had 3 tasks ahead of him: get out of the U.S., find Johan Fendler, and kill him. Nothing else mattered.