A Deeper Look

I could hear her breathing. Each rise and fall of her perfect chest.

I had lost her once. Temporarily, I say. I desired her back more than anything else. She was everything to me, and I thought I was to her.

She rejected me, for this man. A man! I was furious. It pained me to see her fake smile when he presented gifts, mere pleasure toys to the girl I knew.

It pained me to hear her laughter at his jests, only done to touch her. Comfort her.

Comfort my girl!

I was betrayed. I will not lie, it hurt. I had never felt such pain before. She needed to know this pain too, so she may weep her sorry to me, and I may forgive her.

Looking bout the room, a room I have spent within countless times before. Even after her betrayal, I had found myself within this very room, staring at myself in the mirror, looking at myself within her clothes. The clothes I had gotten her time long past.

The clothes she never wore now that this man came along.

She had abandoned me, like she had these clothes. Hoping to forget her true beloved. Hoping to be 'normal'.

I turned to the walls. Walls that once held pictures of us, of bands, of authors, actors, models. Of clothing designs.

Few are left; a few band posters. All of our pictures are covered, or replaced, with ones of Him. Only him, smiling down at her, at me. His fake smile, a smile that so entranced my beloved.

I drew my knife and cocked my arm to cut a larger picture of him from the wall. I stopped myself, though.

His death would come much later. I wanted him to suffer without the presence of my beloved to help him through it.

I could not win her back. She could list to no one but him at this time. The pain she had caused on my me. Emotional pain. I would return it physically. She would learn this lesson well.

I turned my attention back to her. She stood before me, as naked as I was, sweating from the struggle we had just partaken in, one I enjoyed thoroughly.

Her curvaceous body, perfect bosoms, waist and hips, glistened with sweat in the moonlight that filtered through the open window.

I licked my lips, pleased with her hysterical face, pale with fear of what was to come.

She did not cry out. She said nothing. Her eyes spoke apologies, but none to satisfy my broken heart. None to satisfy my feelings that she betrayed for that man. A man I had called to rush over.

A man who will see the woman and her true lover, huddled by a broken mirror, a scarred face and a throbbing heart beside the victim.

My right hand entwined with her left, in front of the body we were forced to share.