Valentine

A Story by Poetic Tuesday

She smiles and it's like glass shattering over a concrete heart. Fingers wrap around the handle, turning the knife ever so slowly and admiring the glint on its blade. Not a sound can be heard and the only thing she can see is her weapon and her prey.

"Please don't do this." The whisper is weak, weighed down by pounds of unspeakable fear and remorse. His eyes are wide and his hands are shaking, the heart in his ribcage pounding with the rhythm of a death march.

His plea is falling on deaf ears and an even deafer soul, one that has grown to be so simply uncaring and so wonderfully broken. The dark glint in her eyes is the only hint of emotion she shows him, and it's blinding him, breaking light brighter than the moon into his realm of secrets hidden in his mind.

And then she speaks in a voice that's reminiscent of bare oak branches scraping church windows.

"Don't worry, my dear. This won't hurt..."

Before long, she's no longer cold from the chilly February air because of the warm coat of crimson on her hands.