Bad things come to those who try

I stood on the sidewalk, looking up at the house. I swore I wouldn’t be back but here I was.

What was I to do? There was no way he’d ever allow me in, not after what I’ve done. He said words but my reaction was unforgiveable. Who would’ve ever pegged me for someone like that? How could I do that to him, to them, to me? He wouldn’t let it go as easily as the word sorry can pass through my lips.

I let out a sigh and turned to go, knowing that my return was pointless. No apologies would be accepted, no forgiveness lay beyond that front door and no one wanted me here.
Still, there was a little matter of something that belonged to me in that house. I needed to get it before it was discovered. No one blinked when I left, but if they discovered my little vice they would call the police on me. No one could know about it.

I strode up the walk and rammed a crowbar into the door. It stuck as the door opened inward to reveal my best friend and my ex, clad only in boxers and a sheet. They seemed surprised –and a little bit hurt- to see me, but I ignored them and headed upstairs. They could do nothing to me that I hadn’t already done to myself in one way or another. Besides, this was actually my house, they were just renting.

I slowed briefly when I spotted them in a room. They were watching a movie. I didn’t acknowledge them or their existence, and they didn’t seem to notice as I ghosted past the doorway.

The door to the attic was still locked. They had apparently never gotten an extra key made when I left. I opened the door and walked up the steps only to be stopped at the top by him.

“What do you want?” I demanded, “Do you want me to pay? Is that it?”

He glared, “What do you think?”

The shove sent me reeling down the stairs. Pain reverberated throughout my body as I slammed into the wall across from the attic door. He walked down the steps and stood over me.

“You deserve to suffer as I have,” he hissed, “and now I will make sure that you do.”

Instead of waiting for him to hurt me, I kicked him in the groin as he pulled back a leg to kick me and ran for the attic. The world spun sideways, leading me to believe I had a concussion. I managed to make it to the top of the stairs before he yanked my ankle out from underneath me. I screamed and fell. My body slid backwards as he pulled me towards him. I twisted my torso and forced him away by kicking him in the face.

I crawled until I could stumble to my feet. I raced for the trunk and opened it. I heard laughter as he noticed my look.

“Oh, you didn’t want that found?” he taunted me, “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

More laughter. I noticed that the knife was still there at the very least and grabbed it. Even broken from the hilt it was useful.

The blade cut into my fingers as I gripped it but I ignored the pain and turned to face him.

My tormentor, my tormented, my love.

I met his eyes and saw fear flicker in them.

“Did you really think that this would end well?” I asked, tears escaping from my eyes, “that we would be able to just let it go? I don’t think so.”

He let out a yell as I leapt at him, taking him down quickly. He didn’t see the blade not even when I lost it for it was suddenly no longer in my grasp. I was thankful for the loss since he was doing his best to do his worst and it was all I could do to fend him off. I knew it was only a matter of time before he killed me; I just wanted to take him with when the time came.

I recognized the edge of the stairs right as we tumbled down it. The bottom of the steps hit me before darkness overtook my brain.