Love Hurts
He always hated when I did that...
Six a.m., I believe that was about the time he came home. I’m not too sure at this point. All the minutes began to run together once my head started spinning. So he came home, which I was relieved about. What I wasn’t so relieved about was how he came home. I was standing at the bedroom window, as I had been for hours, when a pair of headlights flooded the early morning with light. They washed over the building and blinded me as the silver sedan they belonged to pulled into the parking lot. The passenger door swung open and Nathan climbed out, only to lean back into the car again and plant a kiss on the driver’s lips. I felt my face flush a bright red and my fists clenched. There was a fire in my eyes, which were locked on Nathan as he walked from the sedan to the front door of the apartment building, blowing a kiss to whoever it was that was in the car. He opened the door and disappeared from my sight.
I can't remember who started yelling first any better than I can distinguish one minute from the next. What I can remember, however, is that he tiptoed through the apartment and to the bedroom, assuming that I was still asleep. Assuming that he was going to get away with this. When he entered to find me fully awake, it took him mere seconds to recover. It would have fooled me, had I not seen the look of shock that crossed his face for half a second, if that.
"Morning, baby," he smiled, crossing the relatively small room to me. "You're up early." He wrapped his arms around me. I rolled my eyes.
"Where have you been? I missed you," I whined. I almost convinced myself for a moment. I wrapped my arms around him too. I played along.
"I had to work late last night." He hesitated. Lie number one.
"Surely you couldn't have gotten out of work this late. Did you go anywhere else first?" I pulled away to look into his eyes.
"I went to the grocery store to get some milk." He looked down and to the right. Lie number two.
"Who was nice enough to drive you to the store and home?" I grasped his hands and smiled.
"Cheryl." Sweaty palms. Not to mention that was definitely a man in the car. Lie number three – a.k.a., where I drew the line. I blinked. I clenched my teeth. I felt the repressed fire return to my eyes.
"Really? Be cause that guy you kissed didn't really look like a Cheryl to me," I growled through my teeth. I squeezed his hands tight. Tight enough to make him wince in pain. Tight enough to make him attempt to squirm out of my grasp. Tight enough to prevent him from doing just that. I yanked him close to me, placed one hand on the small of his back and continued to squeeze his delicate little fingers with the other.
“Did you really think you could cheat on me and get away with it?” I breathed against his cheek, laughing just a little bit. I snaked my fingers underneath the hem of his shirt and scraped my nails against his back, causing the hair on his arms to stand up, and kissed him hard. “Well then you better savor that kiss, babe, because it’s the last one you’re ever going to get.”
I clutched both of his arms tightly and spun him around so I could twist them against his back and pin him to the wall. I bit his neck hard enough to draw blood, the sharp metallic taste hitting my tongue immediately. He always hated when I did that. Too bad for him that I loved doing it. I pulled him away from the wall, only to slam him into it. Now as I said, I can’t remember who started screaming first. Whether it was him out of pain, or me to tell him off using every word I could think of in the moment, whether it made sense or not. I can’t remember who started crying first, or when the smell of blood consumed the room completely. What I can remember is everything I did to torture him for the next hour. Everything from slicing open his skin with a kitchen knife, to pulling his hair, to just beating him. But nothing I did was enough to quite kill him. I had something special planned for that. Something slow enough that I would be able to watch his face the whole time. See him feel the same way as I felt when I saw him kiss that man. See him suffer as he died. I was going to strangle him.
I pinned him to the ground and straddled his stomach so that he wouldn’t be able to get away. I stretched for the closest wire to me – Nathan’s favorite lamp, which was (of course) this annoyingly bright purple covered in lime green polka dots, that I had always despised – and yanked it out of the wall, causing the lamp to fall and shatter against the hardwood floor. Some of the larger shards of glass skidded across the floor and tore through his already blood soaked, previously white, shirt and sliced his skin wherever I hadn’t already. I wrapped the wire around his neck and tugged on each end of it, tightening it more and more every second until I could no longer hear his throat wheezing with the little air that was slipping through. It was amazing, watching him squirm under me, watching the pained look that enveloped his breath taking features as his lungs crumpled with the absence of air. I don’t remember the exact moment all the life left his eyes, either. I was laughing too hard to feel his body go limp, but I’m pretty sure it was right around the time that I heard the police sirens wail down the street. At that moment I knew it was over. However, I didn’t regret it.
He got exactly what he deserved.
I can't remember who started yelling first any better than I can distinguish one minute from the next. What I can remember, however, is that he tiptoed through the apartment and to the bedroom, assuming that I was still asleep. Assuming that he was going to get away with this. When he entered to find me fully awake, it took him mere seconds to recover. It would have fooled me, had I not seen the look of shock that crossed his face for half a second, if that.
"Morning, baby," he smiled, crossing the relatively small room to me. "You're up early." He wrapped his arms around me. I rolled my eyes.
"Where have you been? I missed you," I whined. I almost convinced myself for a moment. I wrapped my arms around him too. I played along.
"I had to work late last night." He hesitated. Lie number one.
"Surely you couldn't have gotten out of work this late. Did you go anywhere else first?" I pulled away to look into his eyes.
"I went to the grocery store to get some milk." He looked down and to the right. Lie number two.
"Who was nice enough to drive you to the store and home?" I grasped his hands and smiled.
"Cheryl." Sweaty palms. Not to mention that was definitely a man in the car. Lie number three – a.k.a., where I drew the line. I blinked. I clenched my teeth. I felt the repressed fire return to my eyes.
"Really? Be cause that guy you kissed didn't really look like a Cheryl to me," I growled through my teeth. I squeezed his hands tight. Tight enough to make him wince in pain. Tight enough to make him attempt to squirm out of my grasp. Tight enough to prevent him from doing just that. I yanked him close to me, placed one hand on the small of his back and continued to squeeze his delicate little fingers with the other.
“Did you really think you could cheat on me and get away with it?” I breathed against his cheek, laughing just a little bit. I snaked my fingers underneath the hem of his shirt and scraped my nails against his back, causing the hair on his arms to stand up, and kissed him hard. “Well then you better savor that kiss, babe, because it’s the last one you’re ever going to get.”
I clutched both of his arms tightly and spun him around so I could twist them against his back and pin him to the wall. I bit his neck hard enough to draw blood, the sharp metallic taste hitting my tongue immediately. He always hated when I did that. Too bad for him that I loved doing it. I pulled him away from the wall, only to slam him into it. Now as I said, I can’t remember who started screaming first. Whether it was him out of pain, or me to tell him off using every word I could think of in the moment, whether it made sense or not. I can’t remember who started crying first, or when the smell of blood consumed the room completely. What I can remember is everything I did to torture him for the next hour. Everything from slicing open his skin with a kitchen knife, to pulling his hair, to just beating him. But nothing I did was enough to quite kill him. I had something special planned for that. Something slow enough that I would be able to watch his face the whole time. See him feel the same way as I felt when I saw him kiss that man. See him suffer as he died. I was going to strangle him.
I pinned him to the ground and straddled his stomach so that he wouldn’t be able to get away. I stretched for the closest wire to me – Nathan’s favorite lamp, which was (of course) this annoyingly bright purple covered in lime green polka dots, that I had always despised – and yanked it out of the wall, causing the lamp to fall and shatter against the hardwood floor. Some of the larger shards of glass skidded across the floor and tore through his already blood soaked, previously white, shirt and sliced his skin wherever I hadn’t already. I wrapped the wire around his neck and tugged on each end of it, tightening it more and more every second until I could no longer hear his throat wheezing with the little air that was slipping through. It was amazing, watching him squirm under me, watching the pained look that enveloped his breath taking features as his lungs crumpled with the absence of air. I don’t remember the exact moment all the life left his eyes, either. I was laughing too hard to feel his body go limp, but I’m pretty sure it was right around the time that I heard the police sirens wail down the street. At that moment I knew it was over. However, I didn’t regret it.
He got exactly what he deserved.