Twisted

She realizes the truth as she dies.

He grips me hard. It hurts.

His eyes are menacing. Dangerous.

His nails dig into my forearm.

I cry out. No sound comes.

 

His eyes are as cold

as the moon. I scream.

He puts his hand over my mouth.

I am helpless.

 

This man is twisted.

I don’t even try to struggle.

No one will come.

No one will hear.

He knows that.

 

I feel the stinging,

delicious pain of the knife

in my heart. His knife.

Why I trusted him,

loved him, is a mystery.

 

“Say ‘bye-bye,’ girlie,” he hisses

into my ear.

I lie there, numb from the pain.

I feel like I’m floating.

 

I can’t move.

All this time he was twisted.

I can’t believe that

I never saw this coming.

He’s killed me.

 

And now, as I am slumped here,

I realize that he hated me

enough to let me die.

The b*****d.

 

The numbness spreads.

My vision blurs.

I can feel my heart slow.

My breathing becomes

raspy and labored.

I close my eyes and let

the life flow from me.

Author's Note

Another one from the old days.

Reviews

[Inyourshadow]

Are we talking metaphorically, is his twisting of the knife the pain lies inflict the scars we bear unseen, the lifeless corpse of a love left unattended uncared for. The life a past life maybe that flowed not from the body but from the point in time it ceased to beat within shared breasts. Forgive if I read too deep but this works on more than one level or even one plain. I love the darkness of a true emotion. keep em' coming