Part 1

Meet my new character, Clarissa Fallow.

They watched one another, like they were gazing straight into the other’s soul. It was as though, through one, tender, lingering glance, they could see each other. Really see. All the pain, all the hurt, the anguish and the hope were conveyed in that one look. None of it mattered. They were there, together and they loved each other so much it was like physical pain. Overripe fruit, skin bulging over agonising sweetness.

She broke the spell by looking away. There was so much pain, so much futile longing in the set of her shoulders, in the way that she turned her head even as she kept her body angled towards him.

“You’re seeing someone else,” she whispered.

He looked down at his hands, “Yes.”

Both winced. The single word, that one syllable, held such a terrible truth that neither could quite stand it.

“Why?” she demanded, voice cracking towards the end of the sound.

They both knew why. It didn’t matter. She needed to hear it and he needed to say it. A shudder ran through him.

“I can’t do this anymore, Beth. I can’t do it.”

“I can.”

“No.”

She laid a hand on his arm and their eyes met once more, “You know it can’t be any other way. We’re made for each other, Peter.”

“No!” he repeated, taking a sudden step back from her. Moving quickly, like he was tearing a Band-Aid. Of course, that never actually stopped the pain. “No, it doesn’t have to end like that, not again. Not this time.”

“We’ve been down this road before. We can’t be happy with anyone else. We never can, no matter how hard we try.”

“I can’t be happy like this, either!” he shouted, impotent rage boiling over, “Beth, I can’t do this again!”

She stepped forward and clutched at his shirt. They struggled, caught in the swell of their tempestuous emotions and then their mouths met as they kissed desperately.

I know, I know. Gag. I’d have told them to get a room and all… but they were sort of in their own room already. It was me intruding, not them being obnoxious with public displays of affection. Still, it wasn’t like I wanted to be there. If there had been any other choice, I wouldn’t have been spying. I didn’t get any sort of kick from watching the stupid carry on. Their little melodrama was making me feel vaguely ill. Vaguely, who was I kidding? I was all but reaching for a paper bag to throw up in.

Beth and Peter thought they were caught in the middle of a love story. They weren’t. Their tale wasn’t one of love conquering all and they weren’t even main characters. They were only about to become another pair of names, crossed out on a killer’s hit list. My name’s Clarissa Fallow and as you may have guessed, I’d be the aforementioned killer. I don’t know if that makes this my story. Maybe I’m the star, the anti-hero, beloved by all with a slightly off sense of humour or fun. Maybe I’m just someone else’s villain, soon to be thwarted. Either way, it wouldn’t make a difference to the unfortunate couple I stalked.

They were cursed, those two. Well, technically they were caught in a renascentia charm but it was one of the nastier ones I’d seen, so I bumped it up to curse. The basic concept is that when either of the pair dies, their souls are tethered to the living world. They float around for a bit, then infect an infant and take over, before the kid’s own consciousness can take root. Then, tadaa, the couple is reborn. Over and over and over again.

I don’t understand why anyone bothers to do it to couples like these. Seems like you’d have to piss off someone really important. The spell wasn’t easily or cheaply cast. The reason this one was so cruel was because the couple’s souls were linked together with some pretty serious voodoo s**t. Every time they’re reborn, they are literally forced to fall in love. Then the guy gets possessed and kills the girl with increasing violence in every life.

I didn’t really give a flying f**k about how upsetting that must be for them. I have my own s**t. No, what had me nearly in tears was that I didn’t think I could separate their souls and that made them much, much less valuable to me. I hate my job. Not only do I have to watch painful little dramas like this one but I’ll get paid less for doing the harder work required to do both of these unfortunate idiots in properly.

I dropped out of the branch of the tree I was perched on and walked up to knock on the front door of the house they were in. I doubted it belonged to either of them, they didn’t look old enough to own anything quite so fancy. I didn’t actually know. I’d only turned up here because my employer had ‘suggested’ I go. I stood where I was for a full few minutes before I decided that they probably weren’t going to answer the door. Well. How rude. But hey, I can be flexible.

Author's Note

Just playing with my anti-heroes. Let me know what you think. I don't normally write in first person, so any advice about that is welcome.