Author's note: Because I'm a romantic at heart I get a lot of static over the fact that the husbands and boyfriends in my stories tend to love their ladies enough to forgive them their peccadilloes. The most common comment is "Another damned wimpy husband story. Why can't you write a story about a 'real man' not some fucking wimp." All I can say is that the people who make those comments probably have never been deeply in love. Love can make a strong man stupid. Love can make a man forgive his lady of damned near anything, just as love can blind him as to what is going on where she is concerned.
But a really strong love can turn into a really strong hate under the right circumstances. When I caught my first wife in bed with my cousin I was confused, bewildered and upset. I wondered what I had done wrong to make her do it and wondered what I could do to make things right between us. It only took the time necessary for her to say nine little words to turn everything around and plant a hate in my heart so strong that even now, thirty years later, I would still kill the bitch if I thought I could get away with it. Over the years I've thought of a thousand things that I wished I could have done to her, but never had the courage to try. Just the very thought of her makes me think dark thoughts and it is hard not to think of her at certain times, like this last Father's Day when I received cards and phone calls from the kids that we had.
The three stories that make up The Dark Trilogy, written in the days following this last Father's Day, come from that dark place within me that she created and that her memory maintains. I haven't seen her in thirty years or spoken to her in twenty-eight, but the hate is still there and very much alive. These stories are dedicated to you Helen and may you rot in hell.