December 10

A Story by 47.

This is how a heart breaks

I sat next to her in an enjoyable silence. Her sour look made me a little nervous. She had something to say but was using her self control for once. We swung our feet over the bed and tied our shoes. We walked into the bathroom and brushed our copper hair. I left mine down. She became a pin up girl. We did our makeup, my eyeliner light about my eyes, hers darker than ever on the rims of hers. We looked at each other and sighed. Our green eyes met. I knew what she was thinking. She probably drowned some puppies before she came out to see me. She knew I was pleading for her to change her mind. Our heads whipped around to see the widow as we heard the car horn.

"So, this is it, huh?" I asked. She nodded. We walked outside.

As I got into his car, she muttered the number to me."Two thousand one. " She walked away. My heart sank. I took a deep breath, looked over at him and smiled.

...

I kept in mind that she might be there. I knew it. I knew it might happen. But still, I smiled. I laughed and played with his hand and kissed him. We kept walking in the street. It had been the best day we'd had in a while, but he knew something was bugging me. I knew exactly what it was but I kept my facade of worry free calmness. Right where the sidewalk had words in it was supposed to be the part of this road he was never supposed to see. As we made our way up the hill, I saw her. She was there. In the street. Right in front of us. She had that look. That evil, determined, blank look. I stopped and yanked at his arm. I told him we needed to go. I told him this was a bad idea to go this far up the hill. I told him I was scared. He was confused. Of course he would be. He never knew. She got closer. I was yelling at him now. He wouldn't listen. I was about to deck him when he started asking questions. I kept telling him. I looked at her, hyperventilating. The knife landed in his left shoulder. He gave me a shocked look and cursed. I heard the first shot and watched him fall. I looked at her and the other shot rang out. I ran to him and put his head in my lap. I talked rapidly as he struggled to breathe. I knew how to help. I knew I needed a plastic bag to help him breathe. All I had was a house key. I couldn't do anything. There I was, powerless with the love of my life, bleeding to death and drowning in his own blood, in my arms. I let it happen. I took him down this road. I didn't stop it until I saw her. This was not good. Not good. I watched his eyes. Felt his heaving breath. Watched him cough up black blood. He was a goner at that point. I looked up at her. She was smiling. She was triumphant. Silently gloating. I watched as she turned and walked away, back into the darkness she belonged to.

...

I watched them walking. I saw his hand wrapped around hers. I saw her look down smiling and sweep her hair out of her face. I noticed his gaze wander to the end of the street where I stood. I noticed her start to panic and try to pull him back out of my sight. I walked out to the middle of the road and stood directly in front of them. She was breathing hard, having a breakdown and wildly trying to convince him to follow her. I stared him down and started walking. She started screaming. He looked at her confused and repeated the same questions. What's wrong. What's happening. Why did we stop. Why are you crying. She begged and begged and I kept walking forward. I pulled out the knife. She then directed her attention to me and started begging me to stop. I ignored her. I threw the knife into his shoulder. He staggered backwards and looked at her incredulously. She just stated at him, silent. Slowly, her head turned to my direction. I smirked. The glock was already raised. One. Knee. He fell sideways. Two. Stomach. His body moved with the impact. Three. Chest. She ran to him and picked up his head. I stood above her. She gave me a look of the purest hurt I'd seen from her in years. I kept my bearing, turned and walked from them so he would die in her eyes and never remember me again.

...

It's always darkest before the dawn. The cold isn't pleasant, but it's kind when unaccompanied by the wind. Silence surrounds everything. At this time the trees stand silent. Even the sound of my foot scuffling over a pebble is a deafening roar. I tread quietly. My breath clings to the air around me. Streetlights aren't reliable along this road, so I keep my eyes down and pay attention to craters. My shoelaces drag but never find their way under the opposite foot. I look up, and while taking a deep breath, run my hand through my hair. Without even knowing why myself, I stop and sit on the curb. I hang my head and my hair falls into my face. The concrete is chilling to the bone, numbing, but that's what I need. My hands keep my head from falling and rolling down the hill. My breathing becomes staggered. My eyes water but I refuse to let the tears fall. I need to accept the fact. I get up and walk further up the hill. The streetlights flicker above me. I look down now not to keep track of potholes, but to find something. Then I do. A rusty brown stain in the pavement. Writing from some teenagers when the concrete was still drying. Melissa + Ralph, 2001. In the etches from their vandalism, the stain is darker. I drop to my knees and let out a silent scream. I stay on my knees and run through my hell. There's no way to reverse anything. There's no way to get this stain out. There's no way to convince myself that what happened wasn't a dream like I wish it were. I remember watching myself walk into the darkness. I remember waking up out of the haze. I remember looking into those blue eyes. Those eyes that were always full of life. The ones that could look into anything and find purpose and meaning. The ones that could smile on their own. The ones that locked onto mine and for but a moment, smiled one last time, and became blank. I remember letting his head lie in my lap and wiping the blood off the corner of his mouth that always made up his smile. I remember looking up and seeing myself slip away into the darkness, right before dawn. I'm snapped back to reality by a passing car. They always return to the scene, don't they... I get back up and walk away.

© 2012 47.

Author's Note

I originally wrote this out on my iphone, so any odd grammar mistakes are from the autocorrect. i apologize, i did comb through it to try and hunt them out. This is how i kill off a haunting relationship...