Murder, She (W)Rote. Season 1, Episode 1: Honey, It’s Considered Manslaughter if It Isn’t Planned (And No One Knows I Sharpened the Knife)
He hadn’t hidden it well; always shit with details.
Hell, he still thought her eyes were brown.
Men are more likely to be stabbed on weekends.
Because they’re home annoying their wives.
Veronica toed off her shoes, crossing the dark house to their bedroom.
Fun fact: men usually stab underhanded into the stomach, but because women are more tricep-dominant, they tend to stab downward.
Her fingertips ached— manicured nails extending into imperfect talons.
Plenty of muscle mommies out there will prove you wrong!
More like muscle monsters!
Ten precise four-inch substernal wounds were the fastest way to a man’s heart.
Murder, She (W)Rote. Season 1, Episode 2: I’ve Got the Arsenic for That Tea (Sipping on Secrets, Choking on Confidences)
Trapped between the wall and his arms, Christina’s skin crawled like a thousand writhing snakes.
Women kill differently from men.
I expected nothing less.
Her fangs had dropped during puberty. Clandestine bumps on the roof of her mouth. If she opened her mouth wide, they mobilized, sharp and deadly as a viper’s.
We are more subtle and patient.
Out here, dosing hubby’s morning coffee with a little poison, like “today’s the day!”
He leaned into her neck so she did the same, sinking her teeth into his vulnerable skin.
Two pinpricks of blood against her tongue as the venom sang.
Murder, She (W)Rote. Season 1, Episode 3: Darling, This Embrace is a Chokehold for Your Neck (And I’m Waiting For Your Final Breath)
A lot of women will try to make it look like an accident.
When Shelby capsized their kayak two klicks from shore, Miranda laughed. Shelby was a strong swimmer but Miranda was the water. It would have been easier to break up.
So like…
Asphyxiation and strangulation.
Bobbing in the sea, small waves caressed her gills. Her legs had fused; scales sprouted to protect her from the cold.
You mean like drowning their kids in the bathtub?
Or smothering them with pillows.
That’s awful.
In one powerful kick, Miranda closed the distance, wrapping webbed fingers around Shelby’s ankle.
She dove.