I stood there, waiting, waiting. Staring hard at the wood before me. The wood that separated me from my prey. My warm breath hit the cold night air and rose before my eyes in grey clouds, hazing my vision slightly. But still I stared intently at the door which brought me to the room in which I shall perform the deed. The deed I knew I had to do for years. I stood outside, listening to her speak to haunting ghosts of the black night. I couldn’t wait for her forever, I knew I wouldn’t be able to contain myself from flinging the door open and killing her now. But I did. I waited, just a bit longer.
This is what I told myself every night as I waited. She never slept, or so it seemed. Every night I heard the same mutterings, the same cursed language passing her lips and staining my mind. Never hesitating, never halting, constant attacks on my sub-conscious self that tore me apart, that killed me every time I heard them. The same things which haunted my dreams and plagued my waking hours. I dreamt these words, they were etched upon my skull like writing is etched across a page. I could say them without hesitation, but the thought of her curdled my blood. The fact that she had said them every night for the last week infuriated me, for they said the opposite of my emotions. Always the same.
“I love you my darling, the one I share my waking hours with until my dying breath. The one that I spend my life being watched by, and watching over, as all couples should be. Together forever, in body, but not in knowledge. For you know not the deep desires of my heart, nor will you ever. For my lips are sealed, never to speak of it”
But she did speak of it, every night, every second. And it didn’t end with that, she would speak all night, depicting in detail her darkest secrets. I could see what she thought, just from the images that flashed before my eyes. Her deep desires of her heart that she wanted kept from me, each one destroyed all I had built, all I had worked for, as I knew the final outcome.
She had to go. I knew what she had stashed away, all handed to me when it was all said and done. Her fortune was all left to me and I want it. I would wait for the time to come, I knew what I had to do.
And it stopped. For the first time in the week I spent outside her door, the muttering stopped. My ears felt no curses laid upon them, they felt no torments being called down upon me. The feeling was bliss, like I was alive. I waited a few more minutes
And slowly, softly, I took one step to the doorway, my hand outstretched, longing for the handle. With all my heart loving what I was doing, I touched the cool metal and took it down, carefully edging the door away from the frame in which it stood. A small ray of light entered the room and fell across her bed, where she sat slumped against the wall. She looked dead already and I hadn’t done a thing to her. She looked like I needn’t touch her, but I knew I had to. I pushed my hand in my pocket, and pulled out a small, but powerful gun. I cocked it and pointed it at her head.
She sat upright, awoken by the click of the gun as I pulled it back to me. She raised her head and stopped centimetres away from the barrel, still in my range. Then she was still, she dared not move, lest she cause me to pull the trigger and make her still forever. Sweat trickled from her forehead and ran down her cheek, closely raced by a tear, which fell fast and landed on the sheets softly. Although it was a mere drop upon the bed, I heard it echo throughout my body, pulsing through my skin and lodging inside my brain. I stayed silent, not moving anywhere, not showing an ounce of compassion.
And still she wept, eyes wide and unblinking. I felt myself give a twinge of guilt as I looked into her eyes, after knowing how she felt for me. But my hatred for her spiels took over and squashed my guilt. I had no use for emotions so petty.
And we were like that for an age. It felt like I wouldn’t do it, then she gave a great sob, and it pushed my rage greater than any bird could fly. I couldn’t stand how much weakness she was showing. Although I knew the weakness she showed every night, never had I felt rage this intense. My finger quivered on the warm metal beneath it. The muscles in my hand tensed up. A bead of sweat dripped down my face, and she looked up into my eyes, lovingly, pleadingly. Once again this sparked my anger. My finger jerked quickly towards my body.
And in an instant, she fell forwards. All my anger was let out and I could here birds fly from the rooftops at the noise that the gun produced. The long, echoing band that pierced the silence. It shook the walls, shook my skin, shook my very bones. I looked in horror at what I had wrought, and blinked just once as she fell forwards, slumped in her dying place, drew her last breath, then was silent. The new sensation swept over me. I had killed her. A sick smile drifted across my face. I could feel it lift every fibre of my being. I was happy again, like I hadn’t been for ages. I let her fall into my arms, and cradled her gently, rocking from side to side. Like a lover would rock his bride to be. And I could feel my heart beating strongly under my ribs, from adrenaline, from excitement, from hatred. But there was something I had never felt, as a sat with her, in my arms. I felt at home, with her, in my arms.
