Plus-Sized Assassin

“Her arms were c*t off, her legs were c*t off,” The TV droned on, leaving Barbara Neil Aryan in a state of drowsy contentment.

Was it weird that horror movies terrified her but true-crime documentaries had her heart?

She leaned back on the couch, eyes half-closed as the TV whirred on, recounting gruesome details of another crime scene. The narrator’s voice was soothing to her in a strange way she couldn’t explain.

Barbara had always felt inexplicably drawn to these real-life horrors, and her boyfriend and almost fiancé, Peter Pemberton, used to tease her about it, calling her “a little too morbid” for his taste, and maybe he was right, but right now?

She couldn’t care what he thought.

He was a liar, a fraud, and a cheat, and he deserved everything that had come his way.

Her gaze drifted around the meticulously decorated living room in their pristine white house in the suburbs, and a bittersweet feeling settled in her chest.

This house was supposed to be a fresh start, a place for her and Peter to make a life together.

But it had all been a lie.

Peter had just been like everyone else—a user, someone who saw her as an easy target, something to take advantage of. Well, she was no one’s fool anymore.

You know, the thought of Peter’s betrayal still stung, but strangely, she felt numb. For the first time, she wasn't the one left feeling broken. She hadn’t caved, hadn’t crumbled, hadn’t been the meek, quiet “fat friend” that everyone else expected her to be. This time, she’d been the one in control, she’d been unforgiving and swift in pronouncing her judgment. And while she had expected the guilt to start seeping in by now, somehow, instead, what she felt was… peace.

But then there was Mariana.

Barbara felt a bitter, simmering resentment as she thought of her so-called best friend. They’d known each other for eighteen years, and in all that time, Mariana had been just like this—selfish, manipulative, always taking and never giving.

Barbie had recognized the trait early on, but she hadn’t really minded, because making friends was something she found difficult, and yet, this one had found her with ease. Naturally, Mariana’s friends had become hers too, but even then, Barbara had always been the one who didn’t quite fit in, the odd one out—the fat friend, who never got the attention.

It didn’t help that Mariana was the type to throw Barbara under the bus to get a laugh, or to make herself look better. She was everything Barbie wasn’t: slender, beautiful, magnetic, and yet somehow, that wasn’t enough. She seemed to want even the little things Barbara had.

It was always Mariana who got the compliments, the admiring looks, while Barbie played the supporting role in her own life. And she’d put up with it, hoping one day it might be different.

And it had.

When Peter Pemberton came into her life, it had felt like that day had finally come. For once, someone chose her over Mariana. Peter had been the first man to look past her outer shell and see her for who she really was. And for the first few months of their relationship, it had been nothing but absolute bliss, but then he’d started to change as the months went by, throwing little digs here and there, subtle comments about her body, chalking it up to wanting her to be “her best self.”

Barbie had endured the grueling diets, the relentless exercise routines, all because he said he was helping her, pushing her to be healthier. Better.

But it had all been a sick game. And as much as it pained her to admit it, the signs had been there. She just hadn’t wanted to see them. She’d ignored the way he looked at Mariana when he thought Barbara wasn’t watching, the way they seemed to share these little inside jokes. She’d buried her suspicions every time he turned his phone away from her, trusting that he loved her.

So, when she finally found out what was going on, the truth had hit her like a ton of bricks.

Not only had Peter been cheating on her with her best friend, but he’d also been systematically draining her bank accounts. He’d even gone so far as to sell the house—the house she had paid for towards their happy ever after—right out from under her.

He had been planning to leave with Mariana, probably laughing at her the whole way to their new life.

The rage that surged within her was unlike anything she’d ever felt. It was as though every act, every betrayal, every mocking laugh was bottled up in her, and in that moment, she’d unleashed it all on him. She hadn’t planned it, hadn’t even thought it through. She’d simply acted.

And now, he was dead.

Barbara was startled out of her thoughts by the sound of a knock at the door. Her pulse quickened in fear, but she took a deep breath, forcing herself to stay calm. She walked over and opened it, bracing herself.

Her best friend, Mariana breezed past her, not even bothering to greet her properly. “Oh my god, I’m starving, Barbie!” she said, her voice whiny and oblivious as always. She didn’t even wait for an invitation to come in. She simply strode past Barbara, heading straight for the living room, her eyes scanning the room with her usual greedy curiosity.

Barbie watched as Mariana picked up a bracelet from the table, examined it for a second, then casually dropped it into her purse, muttering something about how it didn’t really match Barbara’s “style” anyway.

Barbara clenched her fists, biting back the anger that flared inside her.

As Mariana went on, a bitter realization settled over the chubby woman.

This was her best friend.

A girl who would take and take until there was nothing left. A girl who would steal, lie, and cheat without a second thought—all while claiming to be her closest confidante.

Mariana wandered over to her room, to Barbara’s wardrobe, pulling open the door and flipping through her clothes with a mocking expression. “Why do you even keep these old dresses, Barbie?” She scoffed, holding up a sleek black dress Barbara had long since outgrown, but didn’t have the heart to give away just yet. “You’re never going to fit into these, you know?”

Barbara forced herself to keep breathing as Mariana’s words cut through her. Normally, she would have smiled it off, but this time, with what she knew, it was all too much. She really didn’t want it to come to this, but Mariana was bad, and they were never going to get past this.

She could see that now.

“I actually made you lunch. Since you’re so hungry,” she said softly, breaking Mariana’s self-absorbed monologue.

“Oh, thank god!” Mariana said, oblivious to the dark tinge in Barbara’s voice as she followed her into the kitchen. “You know, for once you’re actually useful!” She teased.

Perhaps, if Mariana had looked carefully, if she’d bothered to truly look at Barbara’s face or around the house, she might have noticed the storm brewing in her friend’s eyes. She might have seen the blood pooling in the bathroom or noticed the faint, metallic scent that still clung to the air.

But Mariana never really saw her—not then, not now, not ever.

Barbara watched as Mariana took her seat, eagerly digging into the meat salad she’d prepared specially for her.

As her best friend took her first bite, a sick satisfaction bloomed inside her. This was it.

Her moment.

“Wow, Barbie! This is delicious!” Mariana praised as she took another bite. “What’s in it? I mean, I usually hate your salads, but this is… incredible!”

Barbara leaned against the counter, her smile calm, her voice almost a whisper. “It’s Peter,” she said softly. “I mean your most favorite appendage of him, anyway.” She grinned at her friend manically.

“Now, just in case you didn't catch that, I meant his dick, Mariana. I figured you would enjoy it better when it's all chopped up. After all, you were fucking him behind my back for so long.”

The confusion in Mariana’s eyes was quickly replaced by dawning horror, her fork dropping onto the plate as she realized what she was eating.

Barbara let the words sink in, her expression like ice.

The color drained from Mariana's face, and her hand went to her mouth, a strangled sound escaping her lips as she stared at her best friend in disbelief. “You...you’re joking, right?” Mariana stammered, choking on the very food she had just praised.

But Barbara simply tilted her head, her expression eerily calm. “Did you really think you could betray me, take everything that mattered to me, and get away with it, Mariana?”

Mariana pushed her chair back, her face twisting in shock and disgust, but Barbara blocked her escape, her eyes icy and unforgiving.

“You took everything from me, Mariana. You were supposed to be my friend. And Peter...he was supposed to be different.” She leaned closer, lowering her voice to a chilling whisper. “You betrayed me. You both did. And now? Well...you’re going to join him.”

Mariana’s face twisted into a defiant sneer as she fought to hold onto her usual, self-assured arrogance. She scoffed, rolling her eyes as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“Please, Barbie,” she sneered, “you might’ve actually managed to kill Peter in a fit of anger, but we both know you don’t have it in you to take me down. I know you’re having one of your manic episodes, so maybe we can deal with this. You see, Barbie, you’re still that weak little girl who lets everyone walk all over her.” She leaned back, crossing her arms with a smug grin. “What are you going to do? Cry me to death? Talk my head off?”

Barbara laughed, her voice light and delighted, as if Mariana had just told her the most amusing joke in the world. “Oh, Mariana,” she said, drawing each word out slowly. “You know me so well. You’re right. I couldn’t bring myself to do it in any other way. Which is why,” she paused, eyes dark as she let her words sink in, “I poisoned your meal.”

Mariana’s eyes widened in sudden realization, and when it did, her smugness drained, only to be replaced by fear. She shook her head in disbelief, trying to regain control of the situation. “You’re bluffing,” she said unsteadily.

“Am I?” Barbara murmured, watching as Mariana’s hands began to tremble. “By now, the poison should be well-established in your bloodstream. You should start to feel it any minute now—numbing your fingers, making it hard to move…” She trailed off, a grin stretching across her face as she saw Mariana begin to stiffen, horror dawning in her eyes. The slender woman opened her mouth over and over, but no sound came out.

Mariana tried to stand, but her legs seemed to give out beneath her. She clutched the edge of the table, gasping, her eyes darting around the room as if she could find a way out of this nightmare.

Barbara casually grabbed her car and house keys, glancing at Mariana one last time. Her voice was cold, devoid of the warmth it had once held for her so-called friend. “Tell Peter I said hi when you see him in hell.”

With that, she turned on her heel, striding to the door. She locked it securely behind her, leaving Mariana alone in the empty, silent house as the poison took hold.

As Barbara walked away, a strange sense of calm settled over her.

She knew the guilt would come eventually—it always did.

But right now, as she breathed in the crisp evening air, the world felt brighter, quieter… peaceful in a way she’d never known.

And for once in her life, she was going to savor every second of it.