One thing was sure: now that I knew what I was capable of and knew that there was no way I could end Franks life, I was getting used to the fact that if I flipped I could act on it. I was full of love, but also full of rage. Earlier I had felt this renewed love for Frank, we were feeling like a couple of teenagers wanting to make love all the time. I wanted to touch him, kiss him and feel him inside me. But then it wore off, and the rage came again. I was experiencing very high ups and deep, deep downs. And if I didn't change, it could well be always like that. I wasn't sure if that was a good thing, or that it would corrupt my mind.

One day, two weeks after my last murder, I was feeling very down. I didn't know how to feel, what to do or what to think. It made me very irritable. Frank had noticed it and apparently he didn't know wether to give me more attention or to leave me alone. His hesitant behaviour only made me more annoyed.

It was evening, saturdaynight, we were watching tv. I had been unusually quiet all day. Frank came sitting close to me, and put his arm around my shoulders.

“I think 24 is really exciting.” he muttered, with his nose in my hair.
“I think Jack Bauer is so stressy, his heart would have stopped beating when he was four.”
“Aw, that's just mean. He's a hero, saving our country.”
“Yeah, right. He's a one-man-army, saving the States all by him self. It's not realistic, and therefore very boring.” I lit another sigarette. Was that my fourteenth today?
“24 and boring. Those are two things that don't go together, Mandy.” Frank smiled, and he looked very attractive. He got up to get another cold beer. I also stood up, I was too restless to sit down a whole evening. I stood in front of the window, watching the city, a sea of lights and sounds.

“Hey, gorgeous.” Frank whispered, after taking a sip of his beer. He put his arms around me.
“Hi there, cutie. I'm sorry I'm in a bad mood all day, but I'm just feeling strange.” I confessed.
“It can happen, darling. Maybe it's just hormones.”
“There's much more to it than hormones, you fool.” I said angrily. The pictures of Frank lying dead on the floor (the bathroom, the livingroom, the hall) shot through my mind and made my body feel numb.

“Well, maybe you could enlighten me by telling me what's on your mind.”
“I... I can't tell you. Yet.” I couldn't look him in his eyes.
“Why do you get so angry all the time, Mandy? It's just not fair, I'm human too, you know.” He shouted, and turned away from me. He paced through the room with large steps.
“I'm not so sure of that.” I whispered.
“I have feelings, I hate it when you snap at me, when you look at me as if you despise me.” Frank gestured with his beer and it splashed on the floor. “You shout at me, you even punch me often. It has to stop, Mandy. Maybe you should go in therapy.”

“I don't need therapy, I need... I want... It's very complicated inside me, I need some time to think everything through. Just give me some time, Frank.” I looked into his eyes, but he was pretty angry himself.
“Maybe you had enough time. Maybe I'm through with all the shouting and rage. Because I can't take it anymore, and if I say there's a line, you shouldn't cross it.” It was just as if Frank had built a wall around me, four thick walls confining me to this small space. And I couldn't take that.
“What do you think, putting down lines? I can't cross this stupid line of yours? Why would I listen to this crap. Be a man, deal with me!” I screamed, punching my chest. “I have a character and there's nothing wrong with that. You're weak, you're like a baby, Frank!”
“Look, there you go again. Refrain yourself of this kind of behaviour, Mandy.” His words seemed like little stinging needles, making my anger worse and worse.
“I don't want to refrain, I don't want to be weak, I want to be free and feel what's inside of me. If you can't deal with that, then sorry!” I ran to him and pushed him with my hands. I had quite a speed and Frank dropped his bear and tried to gain his balance.
“Stop this, Mandy! Stop it! I don't want to fight.” He yelled. He put up his hands in a calming gesture, and stepped away from me.
“Quit being a weakling, Frank. Maybe I need a man who fights.” I didn't even know anymore what I was saying.
“I'm an adult, I don't think we should fight. It doesn't make things better. Mandy, cut the crap!” I started running again, and my fist hit him on the chin. I was really amazed to see this surprised look on his face. He still didn't see it coming.

Frank stumbled backwards, towards the window and I felt my blood racing through my body, this enormous energy that needed a release. An otherworldly scream came out of my mouth, sweat dropped from my head and I thrusted my body against Franks. He fell backwards, against a rolling cabinet, that hit the window. A large crack appeared in the glass.

“Mandy, you maniacal bitch!” Frank looked at me with a glitter in his eyes that I'd never seen before. Ah, an enemy to withstand me

“Huh, I'm a maniac? What about your mother?” In a second I remembered this great kick I had learned doing Tae Bo and swiveld my leg around. I hit Frank right in the stomagh, it went so fast he didn't have time to react. He isn't much of a fighter anyway. His breath came out with a “poof” and he fell backwards, hit the window, which didn't hold him. I saw the panic in his eyes, his hands tried to find something to hold onto, but there was nothing. He made a sqeaky, questioning sound, before the glass came crashing down, and Frank started his descent to the ground, eleven floors down.

I ran directly to the gap, and saw his body getting smaller and smaller. Shards of glass fell after him, making tiny, singing sounds. It was a breathtaking view that night. Then there was a thud, hardly audible.

I guess he died on impact. I'm not sure, but who could survive a fall like that? I'd never know for sure. I hurried to the elevator, waited impatiently for it to go down, and ren outside, around the corner, and found my husband there. God, he looked awfull. His body looked like every bone was broken, there was blood all around him. Suddenly, fear krept up along my spine. His brain was everywhere, little splotches of grey matter in the grass. How could he come back to life if he missed pieces of his brain? Would he be a zombie?

“You stupid fool, what did you do?” I said furious with myself. Tears appeared in my eyes, but I had to act quickly. There weren't many people out this late, but if someone saw me, I would be so busted.

The fear made me clumsy, but I did my best. I grabbed Frank under his shoulders, and dragged him to the elevator. A bloody trail followed me where I went, and it made me really nervous. Finally, I managed to get him back into the apartment, where I broke down in tears. But I had to clean up the mess in the elevator and the curb outside. Outside I threw up in the bushes, having to stand in the elevator full of blood and horror. This wasn't as easy as I had thought it was. What a mess I had made of my life. But I did what had to be done. Once back in the apartment, I drank a cup of hot milk to calm myself.

I couldn't help it, I fell asleep on the couch. Just before I lost consciousness I thought to myself, that if Frank would wake up as a zombie, I'd just kill him again. But then I would chop his head off. The next moring, I woke around ten o'clock. There were no sounds of Frank, no surprised calls or sounds of him making coffee in the kitchen. Hesitantly I walked to the frontdoor, where I had left Frank for dead, which he was of course, and where I saw him lying still. I kneeled next to him.

“Frank, dear?” I pushed his shoulder. He was breathing, I could hear it. His body felt warm. I pushed him again, but he didn't wake up. But he was alive. I left him there, and, feeling a little shaky, I made myself a breakfast. I was sure he would wake up again, but the question was: what would he be like?

Frank stayed asleep for most of the day. Around five P.M. he got up. His clothes were bloody and torn. He certainly looked like a zombie.

“Mandy? Help me!” I heard him call out. “What the hell happened?” O dear, I thought. I didn't have the energy to clean him up, last night.
“I... I don't know, sweetheart. You came in looking like this, and I left you there, because you smelled like booze. I thought you had been in a bar fight.”
“What? I never go to a bar without you. Why? Why did I do that?”
“We had a fight last night, remember? You didn't want to be with me and stormed out. I was here by myself watching 24. And then you came back looking like that.”
“Right.” He said, looking at me with a funny face. I wasn't sure he believed me, but he turned around and went to the shower. I could only feel relieve, my Frank wasn't a zombie!