First, there was Cherries and Bitters, then came WITSEC. And now, by popular demand, here is Part III of the series, told from Rob/Jason’s POV.
Today’s Date - whatever Dear stupid paper, The WITSEC shrink suggested - read required- we keep journals to help process our grief over losing our former lives. I wish I could be grieving, but my f-ing former life came with me. What do I have to do to get rid of that woman? She has been clinging to me since our first date. Literally. I cheated on her - that didn’t work. I broke up with her - that didn’t work. Finally, I married her, figuring that gave me at least a 50% shot of finally getting loose. Yeah, I guess the wheel didn’t break in my favor on that one, either. Just when I was at my wits’ end, Junior had the kind of crazy ass idea that only little brothers can think of: “Rob. (Am I allowed to use my dead name in the journal?) Why don’t you go into the Witness Protection Program?” “You can’t just go into WITSEC like you just go into Walmart,” I told him. “What, are you high or something?” ”Yeah. But that’s irrelevant, smarty,” Junior replied. “You can do something to get yourself into the program. Then, she’ll never be able to find you.” I started smoking what he was smoking and we started doing some research. It’s amazing the things you can find on the dark web, and what you can get away with, if you use a VPN. I found myself some gangsters, dressed in suits, playing golf, wearing Tag Heuers. They could pass beautifully as successful and legitimate businessmen. And I, with glasses, man-bun and laptop, could pass as an illegitimate accountant. Which is just exactly what they needed. Yeah, so I had to infiltrate the mob to get enough dirt on them to be useful to the feds. Then, I had to be smart enough to look dumb enough to get caught by said Feds. And then, I had to cut a deal which would put my life in danger, in order to qualify for WITSEC. The thing I was really careful about was never letting them know anything about “Laura.” So I made them believe I was closeted, gay and alone in a condo downtown. I did not want the Feds to think that my wife would need protection, too. That would ruin everything. As it happened, she ruined everything herself, by coming with me and pretending to know what was going on. Who does that? What kind of a spouse is that supportive, for fuck sake?! She always talks about how we laughed in the back of the car, even though we were afraid. I was laughing to keep her presence from making me cry; afraid of being stuck with her any longer. All that careful planning out the window. My only real chance to start fresh, to leave my stupid past behind. But no, here I am, in Bumfuck, North Dakota, trapped with the same velcro wife, training for a job I’ll hate in a life I never should have to live. On the plus side, she looks different now. But, without her friends and family and perfect past, she has nothing else to do but cling to me, and without my income providing me with unlimited high-end alcohol, she’s more insufferable than ever. And now, she is talking about having kids again. Who has kids in WITSEC? Like seriously, how do you raise kids when their whole lives are lies? I always swore that if I ever had kids, I would be a way better parent than mine were - you know - sane and clean and whatnot. How can I build them a life out of Jenga tiles? How could she even suggest such a travesty? On the plus side, I gained 40 pounds as part of my transformation, so she is less interested in jumping my bones. On the down side, her sex drive was Nancy’s only redeeming feature. “Laura” doesn’t even have that going for her. Fuck. Why didn’t I just push her off one of those damn carnival rides she was always dragging me on? I could have faked that accident. Her parents would have suspected me, but could jail as Rob actually be any worse than prison as “Jason?” Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I felt like killing her myself!! Ffs! Love this one, Boo!
😂 thank you!