The movies never tell you enough. 

They don't tell you how heavy the gun is in your hand, or how much you're trembling and shaking. They don't tell you how the bullets you keep fumbling with are slippery in your sweaty palms. They don't tell you that your arms will feel like lead, and your eyes will be too blurry to see straight, much less shoot straight. 

There are a lot of things the movies don't tell you. 

When you watch a movie, they don't show you tearing at your hair and clawing at your face as you sob into a toilet full of vomit. They can't capture the cold tension in the bedsheets, or the shakiness in your gut when you first see The Texts. Or your mother's voice crackling over the phone, offering words of comfort that never seem to stick. Because in the movies, the wife is never as beautiful as the mistress. 

You don't see the instant the thought clicks—it was almost as if it had always been there, sleeping and dormant in the darkness. It just appears, and that's enough. 

The movies do show heists, sometimes. Usually do-good thieves stealing cash from wealthy casino owners or arrogant dicks. But as you break into your husband's gun safe (the code is your anniversery), flinching at every creak and groan of the house you've spent so many years together in, you know that this burgalry is just as dangerous. 

The movies aren't a how-to manual, and nothing can prepare you for the deafening blast of a bullet exiting the chamber. The sound resounds in your ears, not quite drowning out the memory of your husband's words just a few moments before: 

"It's not what it looks like." 

And once your ears stop ringing, you hear the screaming, and the movies have taught you one thing; revenge is never quite satisfied. You shoot her twice, the whore. 

The movies don't tell you how hard it is to scrub red out of carpet. They don't tell you about the blisters and splinters covering your hands as you dig, dig, dig. They don't tell you what to do now, or where to go, or how to explain to the officers when they turn up. (In the movies, they always turn up.)

In the end, the movies never tell you enough.