As I lay there in the dark, I knew there was only one solution. Things would never get better. She was too far gone.

I had given up speaking; I wished desperately to connect with her, but it was hopeless. No matter how carefully I might choose my language, or how pure and loving my intent, she could never hear it that way. She would find something to scare her, or she would think that I meant the opposite of what I said, or that I was masking a nefarious purpose. Time and time again, she reminded me that I had said things I had not, things I could not even think. Every word I said was transformed, mangled, twisted into something destructive. I didn't want to twist the knife. So I was silent.

She was not happy, and I wanted her to be happy. Maybe not all the time, at least sometimes. I wanted us both to be happy, but there was just no way. I knew she desperately wanted closeness and acceptance, but with the damage she carried with her, she would always hear what she feared. I was smart, I was patient, I was kind. She lashed out viciously at me, backed into a corner by these imaginary demons, but I never lashed back, not even once. I spoke calmly, and tried to find a way through it. Nobody could have done better. Nobody would do better. The cycle would repeat.

Murder. I wasn't sure, would that even be murder? It would be more like a mercy killing; she could never be happy, it would be taking away her misery. And to the rest of the world, she was destructive, so I would be doing right by them. I knew she didn't want to die, but that's because in her world everyone else was mean and she was only answering in kind. She thinks everyone else is sick and wrong. She would fight back, but I was stronger. I could make it happen. I could do it.

Could I get away with it? Surely it wouldn't be just if I had to serve a life sentence in return - hadn't I suffered enough? I'm not a murderer, but certainly less clever people than myself had gotten away with murder before. What if ninety percent of them get caught? I'm smarter than 90% of people, all the standardized tests said so. I just had to be careful. And make a very good plan, a meticulous one. I could not let any detail escape. Yes, I can do this, I thought. I don't want to, but it is the only right thing to do, and I am strong enough to do it.

And what about all the lying? I could do that. I had learned to lie well, after all the traps she set for me. I learned by stepping on the land mines, and I had to avoid them at all costs. Everything had become a lie. I'd even have to lie at her funeral - I liked the irony of that. But I could just cry, and even after I'd killed her, I could cry in honesty. I would be sad. I would miss her, truly. I didn't hate her; I wasn't even angry.

I started thinking up my plan. It seemed the best thing to do would be to get her to go on a trip somewhere, and then grab her on her way out. That would give some time before anyone noticed her missing, for me to take care of things and make sure there was no evidence. I wouldn't have to rush. And if I could make it appear that she had gone to the airport, the search area would immediately increase dramatically. I think strangling would be the way, because anything bloody would leave traces. I knew plenty of faraway places to drop a body where nobody would almost ever go. That was the start of a good plan, but there was much more to be considered. I needed to do this right. But I had time; I could start by putting the idea in her head to take a trip somewhere, and then it would take at least a few weeks to come together. I fell asleep thinking of all the details I still needed to consider.

But the next day I had a full schedule, a long work day, emails to return, and a computer project I was working on. The next day was busy too, and the next. I didn't have time to make any more plans, not even to talk to her about going on vacation. The idea remained in my head, a plan waiting to be planned. It would happen, I just had other things to do right now.

A week and a half later, I came home from work and the house was half empty; she had taken her things and gone. I don't know where she went. I suppose I could have tried to track her down, but that would have been a pretty big project.

And so, nothing happened. I was just too busy. With the benefit of hindsight, I do wish I'd spent more time on her.