A Liar's Confession

A kiss. A perfect kiss was all it took to shatter her world. A gentle brushing of the lips was all it took to convince her. There was nothing left for her to do. It was a drastic resort, but there was no other choice. She had to kill them. She had to kill both of them.
It wasn't as if she hadn't expressed an interest in him. It wasn't as if she hadn't said those little words over and over and over again. And not just to herself. She had told him. She had told him repeatedly. He was the one who didn't care. He was the one who thought that she was merely a friend, a childhood memory and nothing more. She had beaten herself senseless attempting to change things, to change anything. The way he felt, the way she felt, the way he thought of her, even her personality. She spent hours studying up on the types of girls he usually dated, and she still couldn't figure it out. She was everything they were. And more. She had a brain. She tried to tell other people, tried to get them to help her, but they didn't seem to care either, telling her to let it go, and that it wasn't going to work out. She wouldn't accept it. There had to be a way around it. There had to be. Hours and hours following him, watching him, listening to his words, looking for some hint as to why things weren't going the way she wanted them to. She was always very careful, pretending to be reading, or lurking behind corners or bushes. She went everywhere with him, and he never noticed. She watched over him, protected him when he was in any sort of danger, and he never once thanked her. She even paid for everything he ever bought; from lunch at school to a c.d. he had been wanting. She left little presents in his locker or at his doorstep. She helped him past tests. She did his homework for him, gave him the answers to quizzes, completed his essays. She did all of this for him, and never did a word of thanks escape his lips. So she had confronted him, told him of her undying affection and love, professed everything that was in her heart, that she felt burning in her soul. And what did he do? Just stared at her, as though she had just sprouted an extra head. And then he had turned and run, and didn't stop until he was out of her sight. At first she had been furious. How dare he do that to her, when she had devoted so much of herself, her time, her life, to him? How dare he turn from her like that? How dare he run? But after a while, she realised it wasn't that she had done anything wrong. That he was just scared of the commitment, and that he really did love her back. And there was nothing wrong with that. Why, it was perfectly healthy to be afraid of telling people that you love them. So she forgave him, and continued doing him those favours. She cast aside all of the times he may have been rude, or said or did something hurtful to her, knowing that he was merely scared to tell her how he really felt. She even ignored the fact that he accused her of stalking him, and got the police involved, forcing some sort of restraining order on her. She was sure that his parents had made him do it, in order to keep them from being together. She still followed him, but more carefully. No more presents or little hints on anything, but that was okay. It was enough just to see him, just to be close to him, to be able to smell him. She loved his cologne. The way he smelled when he walked past her in the halls. She loved the smell of him clean, too. The way the scent of him lingered in the air after he showered. It was all too wonderful. He never knew she was there, she was always there. She was very cautious about keeping her little observations a secret. But she always there, reveling in the perfect essence of his being. Getting lost in visions of his god-like body. She was there in the morning, watching him pull on cotton shirts for school. She loved the way he looked in his clothes. Like a young god out of a Greek tragedy. She was there when he walked to school, always trailing behind him just enough so that she could see him, but he would never notice there. She was there at the beginning and end of every class, there during his soccer practice, there on his way home, there when he ate dinner, and there when he took a shower. It was no wonder she saw them kiss. It was no wonder that she witnessed the repulsiveness of it all. It was as though her heart had died, as though he had personally reached into her chest and held it, still beating, in front of her own face. So there was really no other alternative to it. She had to. It would be better for the both of them. She wouldn't hurt, and he wouldn't be ashamed of betraying her sacred love. And the girl would certainly need to be disposed of. She was the object of betrayal. It was her fault. She was the Temptress. Yes, it had been the only thing left to do. There were no other options.
And so for the next few weeks she stayed home, only going to school and occasionally following him, just to make sure that his routine hadn't changed. She planned, and she plotted, and she organized. The deed would have to be done at night. It would need to look like an accident. He was going out with the Temptress after school every Friday, so it would be done then. A car crash would be the smartest way to handle. She would have to cover all of her tracks, make sure she had an alibi. A movie. Yes, she would go to a movie. One that hardly anyone else would see, but just enough people so that someone did see her. And then she would sneak out and.. and what? And find him, find his car. It had been raining quite a bit, so the roads were bound to be slick. She could stand in the middle of the road, and he would swerve. Yes, he would swerve and crash the car. It would need to be in a low populated area, which was easy to find at night. Perhaps she could even make it look as though he had been trying to kill himself. Yes, that would do. A random swerve could imply suicide. Then she would sneak back into the movies, and sit through the rest. No one would ever know. He could have swerved to avoid hitting a deer. Or to kill himself. Or because the Temptress was trying to get his attention. The point was that no one would ever know that it was her fault that his car had fallen off of the cliff and into the ocean. No one would ever know that it was her he had been avoiding, and even if they did, how could they prove she had done it on purpose. It was too perfect.
The next week, at school, it was all over. She had executed her plan flawlessly, and he had done exactly what she thought he would do. Everyone in school was talking about it on Monday. She pretended she didn't know what was going on, that she was completely oblivious to all of the gossip going around the school. People thought that he had killed himself, saying that the Temptress had demanded too much and made him miserable, that his grades had been slipping and that the coach had kicked him off the team. They said he had been doing drugs, drinking, that he had gotten the Temptress pregnant and that it was the only solution that he could think of. They couldn't be further from the truth. She waited for the principal's announcement before she showed any real emotion. Apparently, according to the principal, anyway, a deer had jumped into the road and he had turned sharply to the right to avoid hitting it. Unfortunately, the right also happened to be the edge of a cliff, and they had both fallen to their death. It was then that she cried, but out of happiness, rather than fear or grief. It had happened perfectly. And no one would ever suspect a thing.