The Kill

Go over there? I still don't know why she wanted me there, though I complied and climbed back inside my car, making my way to her house slowly. Once I was there, I simply walked up to the door and stood there for a few minutes, trying to get my thoughts in order; thinking through every thing she might say to me, and how exactly I might reply to them before I even lifted my hand to knock on the door. Once. Twice. Three times. It's a habit, I suppose.

Mere seconds later the door was open with her standing there; her eyes soft, sad even. I glanced down to the ground, staring at it as if there was something fascinating about it. There wasn't. It was simply concrete. Plain old concrete. The second I glanced up, her hand was resting on my cheek, her lips pressed against my own.

I instantly reached a hand up, pressing it against her shoulder as I pulled away, shaking my head slightly.

"Why are you doing this?" I questioned her, after all, it was her that started this horrible situation, correct?

"I love you." Was her simply reply. No. She loved him, not me. It was all a lie. Some twisted lie to keep me there with her, though I don't understand why. Why did she have to choose those words as her reply? She could have said anything else and it wouldn't have effected me, but those words were like one more stab in the heart; one more open wound for the entire world to see.