[ WP ] Your name is Ashley Madison and you are frustrated about the amount of hate you 've been getting these last few days by mistake .

Why, dear god, did I have to be named Ashley Madison, I think for the millionth time. Yet another hateful email, another disgruntled wife on my voicemail. 
 
 `` I'm not that girl'' I scream in the air. My husband walks in a worried look on his face. 
 
 `` Everything alright hun?'' he asks coming to sit next to me on the bed. 
 
 `` When will it stop?'' I cry into his shoulder. 
 
 `` My guess?'' he says lifting my chin to kiss me sweetly `` When Kanye and Kim's baby is born''. 
 
 I push him away playfully and he kisses the top of my head before getting up to finish getting ready. Like every morning I get the kids up and ready for school then making breakfast for the hubby before he goes off to his job in the city. We lived a happy life, a comfortable life, thanks to him; and I am forever grateful for his sacrifice. The long hours in the office, and commute into the city was the price you paid for bringing your kids up in a home with an actual yard. 
 
 He grabs his breakfast to go and with a last kiss he drives away. The house is quiet, too quiet I always thought. It was a large home, too large for just a family of four, but he had insisted on it. I start my daily routine of cleaning the kitchen, making the kids room, and then heading to our fitness room where I did 5 miles a day on the treadmill. I was proud to say that I was still the same size as I was when we got married. 
 
 When I finished that day I checked my messages again. Death threats, more hate mail, oh look at this `` I know where you live''. How nice. Let's just hope they find the real person's address, seeing how they ca n't find the right phone number. I laugh to myself as I take my shower and then prepare for the kids to come home. 
 
 A phone call.. I breathe a sigh of relief as it seems to be the house phone and not my cell. The stalkers do n't seem to have that number yet. 
 
 `` Hello...'' No answer. The sound of someone breathing heavily raises the hair on my neck. I shiver compulsively and I hang up. 
 
 The phone again. 
 
 `` What?'' I yell into the phone. 
 
 `` Ashley is everything alright?'' Another sigh of relief. 
 
 `` Yes, sorry Patricia. I think the crazies got our house number.'' I say, my mother in law tsking in my ear. 
 
 `` Well I was just calling to see if we could pick up the grandkids from school today, John and I would really like to spend the weekend with them. If that's ok?'' she adds as a courtesy. 
 
 `` Sure, of course'' I say smiling. 
 
 `` Oh, great, we'll bring them back on Sunday at noon. Ok darling? And hey, make sure you lock your doors will you?'' 
 
 `` Yes Patricia, thank you''. 
 
 We hang up our conversations as awkward as always. She never did approve of me dating her son, marrying him was almost a crime to her. I set the phone down and head back up stairs with thoughts of an evening alone with Sam tonight. 
 
 As the clock strikes 8 I wait by the door in my little black dress hoping to surprise him with dinner in. 
 
 A knock on the door. Right on time I think. 
 
 `` What's the matter Sam, did you loose your key?'' I open the door automatically and I'm hit on the head and loose consciousness. 
 
 **** 
 
 My eyes open slowly and my head throbs from the effort. I try to reach up to touch it but my hands are tied behind my back. I'm sitting in my living room, the lit fireplace the only light on in the room. I try to scream but it is muffled by the ball gag in my mouth. 
 
 `` What the hell'' I think. I look around to try to find my attacker, struggling to release myself from the bonds. 
 
 `` So you're finally awake'' a female voice says coming closer. `` I've had a chance to look around and let me just tell you... You have a lovely home''. 
 
 I try to ask her what she wants but it only comes out as a grunt. 
 
 `` No need to speak sweetheart'' she says running her hands along my shoulder. Leaning down in front of me I get my first good glance. 
 
 My attacker was an older woman, in her mid 40's or early 50's, her hair was a perfectly sandy blond and her make up was done delicately. Her hands were gentle on me but in her eyes was a kind of rage I had not seen before. 
 
 `` You're probably wondering what I'm doing here, and what I want. Right?'' I nod my head in agreement. 
 
 `` Well you little slut... my husband was one of your patrons''. 
 
 I shake my head, trying to tell her that it was n't me, that she has the wrong woman. 
 
 She walks over to the door and grabs a long barrel shotgun before coming back to me. I scream, at the top of my lungs, shaking my head violently and trying to pull my hands free but it's no use. 
 
 `` Do n't worry sweatheart... this is n't for you'' She smiles. `` Killing you would be too kind''. Tears are falling down my face, my makeup running down in dark lines to my cheek. 
 
 I beg her as loudly as I can... please... but she just smiles. 
 
 `` Do you know how many people your website hurt? How many relationships ruined? How many lives destroyed?'' The woman is shaking as she walks in front of me `` DO YOU!!!'' she screams bending down and slapping me hard against the side of head. 
 
 All I can do is keep shaking my head no... but she's not looking at me, not really. She's looking through me as if I'm a ghost. 
 
 `` My husband was a great man'' she says standing up and regaining her composure. `` A great husband and father... but the fear of what would happen when his name was released was too much for him''. 
 
 She comes back to face me, a pensive look on her face. `` Did you know that this is the same shotgun that my husband took his life with?'' The woman points the gun at me and then turns it so she can show me his name engraved on the metal siding. `` Henry'' she whispers. `` My husbands name was Henry''. 
 
 `` What do you want'' I scream around the gag, and at last she understands me. 
 
 `` I want to take from you, what you took from me''. 
 
 `` NO!!!!'' I scream but she just smiles and walks away. 
 
 I hear the sound of a car pulling up into our driveway and panic alights inside me. I struggle against my bonds, finally releasing one of my hands from my restraints. 
 
 As quickly as I can I removed the second hand, but I hear the jingle of keys in the door lock. 
 
 The woman moves into place behind the front door and I forget the ropes at my legs as I grab the strap behind my head. 
 
 The door is opening but I ca n't release the knot. 
 
 I scream around the gag, as I hear my husbands voice of concern. Finally the strap is loosened, and I scream `` RUNNNNN!'' at the top of my voice and watch in terror as he steps around the door in a panic. I hear the click of the gun and my eyes close tightly. `` Noooooo!'' My scream is muffled by the sound of one shot... and then another. 
 
 Silence. 
 
 I open eyes to the massacre in my living room. My husband lying in the doorway a shot to the chest, the woman slid against the door, a bloody trail down the wall from where she had pointed the gun at herself. 
 
 **** 
 The rest of the evening is a blur. The neighbors had called the cops and I had been found still sitting in the chair tied from the waist down. The news articles made a splash and circulated throughout the local and national news station, but even I was surprised by what they found. I sat numbly, doped up on all kinds of medications, my kids still with their grandparents. 
 
 Turns out during the investigation I really was THE Ashley Madison, the company had been set up by my husband and he named it after me. Blogs and diary entries that were found on his computer say how he started it for those that were in a loveless marriage and who wanted to find the special someone. When he sold the company they twisted it to just those that wanted to screw on the spouses. 
 
 Part of me felt like I deserved it... all of this. After all at one point I was the other woman.
