Before you brand me as some kind of sexually deviant monster, it does not turn me on to see her like that. At least not in a way that I would normally consider arousal. It’s the thrill of what I could do that I enjoy, the planning and scheming. It is pure. Cleansing.

What was I hoping to achieve? I’m not really sure, to be honest. But there were worse ways to spend the day. In the end though, I paid a fortune for a fancy alarm clock that projects the time on to the wall so she can check the alarm is set from under the duvet, and moved on to finding other ways to mess with her.

* * *

We’ve now been in lockdown for three weeks. Megan’s work basically stopped—I guess no one wants those stupid workshops she runs right now—and so she’s been pacing the house and trying to keep busy with banal shit. But I’m getting bored now, and I want to get the game started. Lockdown has made things so much easier for me.

We’re sitting on the sofa, watching the daily news update about the virus, both with a gin and tonic in hand. Just like she has every evening, Megan makes some thinly veiled joke about how we are turning into my parents. Instead of my usual guarded laugh, I take her hand. “Except my mother never killed anyone, did she?” My words are quiet and it takes her a second to realize what I’ve said. I squeeze her hand, grinding flesh and bones together. She turns to look at me and I smile the gentle but vulpine smile that I know makes her nervous. “You’ve been a very naughty girl, haven’t you, Meggie?” I grind her hand harder in mine.

My darling wife now realizes I know she has killed her sister. I have been waiting for this moment since lockdown began, biding my time while I worked out just what to do next.

“Megan.” I’m sitting so close I can feel her body radiating heat. She gets warm when she’s angry. I’ll have to be gentle this evening, I suppose. Make sure I don’t push her too far, too quickly. I need her compliant “So, what is it that you think I want?”

“I… I… don’t know…” There are a couple of tears reflecting in her eyes, so I hand her a tissue. But she doesn’t use it. She merely begins to shred it into tiny pieces. I follow the journey of one small piece as it stirs from the pile of its brethren and floats to the floor I have only just hoovered. I clamp down my anger. Now is not the time.

“Well, let’s be honest, Meggie, shall we?” I take her hands and gently pull the remaining bits of tissue from her grasp. “You know what you did was very wrong, don’t you? And I think the police would be interested in hearing exactly what happened that evening. How you finally lost control and killed her. We all know how much you hated her, Meggie. All our friends, our good honest friends, will feel that they must step forward and attest that you and Leah had a fractured relationship. Don’t you think that Hannah would feel compelled to tell the truth? I’m sure if she is put on the stand, we’d watch her pile all your dirty secrets on top of each other like the upstanding citizen she is. So much motive there for you to hurt Leah. Plus, of course, your fingerprints are all over that body. You know yours and Leah’s don’t match, don’t you?” Condescension drips from my voice. “I have the body, Meggie. I moved it from the cabin. There’s more than enough evidence to convict you. No chance of parole. How long is a life sentence these days?”