My hand shakes at the thought of what I've done. Jed's a fine looking man. Upstanding within the community, serving, he claims, those without a voice. But in private, his generous mouth is black, as black as a Mamba's mouth, uttering lies, twisting truths into sly innuendos.

Once I believed in his promises. Once I believed in his love. But now I've come to realise that those promises and his love are stagnant like fetid water in a shallow pond.

In the past, I blamed myself for my own inadequacies. A man in his position, I reasoned, expects more from a wife and could be forgiven for the judgements he's made upon me.

But yesterday, I discovered his final betrayal in a letter sent from his latest mistress and our vows, the fluid words and endearments he once uttered, I now know are just a cruel sham.

And I guess this woman, like the others, fell for Jed's mesmerising allure. Women can be such fools, repeating the same mistakes others have made over and over again.

I remember how I fed off his words. Accepted his excuses. But on reading the letter, discovering that their child will be born in May, a child he's denied me, all my beliefs, forgiveness, hopes have crumbled into despair.

So now Jed lies at my feet, blood spreading from a gaping hole in his groin and I tell him, above his cries of agony, that the community he serves will soon learn about his cruel duplicity.