Author: Dreamers-Requiem PM
She was sweet, revenge was sweeterRated: Fiction T - English - Horror/Crime - Words: 2,661 - Reviews: 1 - Published: 03-03-09 - Status: Complete - id: 2642499
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Shaking like a dog shitting razorblades, waking up next to nothing after dreaming of you and me, I'm waking up all alone, waking up so relieved..."Why did you do it?"
She preferred him, and happily she would admit it; he was nicer than the other one, kinder. His eyes were kind, she had decided already. He sat opposite her with his thumbs under his chin, his fingers pointing up and covering his nose, his head slightly bowed and his eyes fixed on her. She stared back at him, her chin moving in a small circle as she chewed the chocolate coin he had handed her.
"C'mon Sam," he pressed, leaning forward slightly "you're a clever girl, so why did you do it?"
"We were in love." She replied, her mouth curling up on one side as gently she shook her head. Wisps of black hair fell out of the ponytail, falling forward so that they framed her heart shaped face.
"You said that."
"You ever been in love mister?"
He sighed, his hands came apart and he ran them both over his face, combing his fingers through his hair before placing his left hand on the table, fingers splayed. She eyed the ring carefully, the simple gold band.
"I am in love."
"Then you should know." The smile disappeared, replaced by a frown. He took in her appearance, the way she spoke as if she were much, much older, and if she were telling him some strange, wise knowledge that only a few were privy to.
While you're taking your time with apologies, I'm making my plans for revenge
Sleepily she stretched her legs out, her eyes flickering open to survey the ceiling above her. A plain, white ceiling with small grooves. She loved that ceiling; not for any particular reason, it was, after all, very similar to the ceiling back at home. With one major difference. She knew that when she opened her eyes and saw [i]that[/i] ceiling, that she was waking up next to him.
She smiled to herself, as, almost on cue, she felt his arm snake around her small waist, felt him pull her body closer to him. She could feel his breath on the back of her head, could feel him bury his face in her hair.
"Morning sleepy." He mumbled, and she pushed herself against him. They fit together perfectly; her small, thin frame in his muscular arms. As it should be.
As it was.
Red eyes on orange horizons, if Columbus was wrong I'd drive straight off the edge, I'd drive straight off the edgeShe cursed herself when she sat up, her neck twisting around and glaring at the empty space. Cursed herself for the dream, for remembering how it had been, for her weakness. She pouted, crossing her arms across her chest as she did so. Damn it. She'd been convinced for the few seconds after she'd woken, staring up at the ceiling, the grooves, that in seconds he'd sense her awake and wrap his arm around her.
In a way, she was glad it was like this; glad he was gone, glad it was just her in the stupid bed. Because there were only so many ways a heart could break, right?
She brought her legs towards her chest, wrapping her arms around them as she stared at the window. Oh well, she thought. It was over now. All over. She couldn't help but let a smile stretch over her face, as she turned her head to one side and looked at the floor.
She stared down, as she took out a long cigarette and lit it, inhaling deeply.
"Sorry love," she whispered "but something had to be done."
Taking your own life with boredom, I'm taking my own life with wine – it helps you to rule out the sorrow, it helps me to empty my mind"I'd like a drink, if that's OK."
He lifted his eyes to look at her, an eyebrow raised. "You'd been drinking when we found you, weren't you?"
Again she tilted her head to one side, her eyes locked on him as if she were studying him; again he felt the younger of the two, despite the child-like innocence she possessed.
"It clears my mind."
"What's your drink of choice Sam?" He was trying his hardest to get her to open up to him, trying to get through the cold woman to the little girl inside.
"Because things make sense on wine."
"I see. Why do you think he did it?"
She scowled then, a deep set frown that caused creases to appear between her eyebrows. "You tell me."
"You knew him better than I did Sam."
"Sure I did. I knew him better than anyone. Better than her at any rate."
"I don't doubt it." He put his hand into his pocket, withdrew a packet of 'cowboy killers' and slipped one out. He watched as her eyes instantly snapped to the packet. "You want one?"
She nodded; no noise was made as he threw the packet onto the table. Eagerly she grabbed one and with a slight smile leant forward for him to light the cigarette. He knew she presented no danger; not to him any way. After all, he hadn't broken her heart.
"Tell me about it, Sam," he was almost begging as she puffed on the cigarette "tell me about the day you found out."
"You don't want to know."
"I do Sam. I need to know; make me understand."
Making the most of a bad time, I'm smoking the brains from my head, Leaving the coal calling the kettle black and orange and red, This kettle is seeing red
Sam felt like she was floating on air as she made her way to his; not long now, she told herself, not long and he'll have finished University and they could move out of there and be together. Three more weeks. That was all. Three weeks.
She was going to surprise him. She had it all planned. She was wearing specially brought sexy lingerie, the type they'd see when out shopping and he'd glance at, pretend he didn't want to see her wearing it, but she'd been watching; mentally she had made a note of it and had later brought it.
She almost skipped as she walked towards the house, almost leapt the last few steps. Her heart felt light today, she felt as if she could fly. And why not? She was happy. So very, very happy.
I've got a big fat fucking bone to pick with you my darling, In case you haven't heard I'm sick and tired of trying, I wish you would take my radio to bathe with you, plugged in and ready to fall
"And what happened then Sam?"
"The door was unlocked." Cigarette in one hand, she raised the other and slowly brushed back a strand of her hair. "It was never unlocked. I should have known then."
He leant forward, listening intently to her as she took another drag, closed her eyes, and frowned as if she were back there. He could almost picture her in his mind; see her stepping into the hallway, looking around cautiously.
"None of his housemates were around either...then I just heard it...this...this noise..."
"Did you know what it was?"
"Of course I did." Her eyes snapped open, she stared hard at him, chin raised slightly. "I'm not an idiot; I knew exactly what it was. She was faking it too, I knew that." She took a deep breath, as if realising who she was talking to. "I'm sorry I..."
"It's OK." He waved a hand, stubbing his own cigarette out in the ashtray. "What did you do then Sam?"
Shaking like a dog shitting razorblades, waking up next to nothing after dreaming of you and me, I'm waking up all alone, waking up so relieved...She placed one foot in front of the other, eyes fixed on the top of the stairs. The noise echoed around her, thumping into her head, and suddenly everything was duller, everything lost it's colour...
Just thump after thump, her heart in her throat as she ran up the stairs and towards his room, throwing his door open...
While you're taking your time with apologies, I'm planning out my plan revenge
"How long ago was that?"
"Two weeks." She raised her eyes, clasping the cigarette tightly in her fingers she gazed at him. "Two weeks. He saw me, knew I was there, and didn't bother to call, or text, or even bloody send me a message on face book to say sorry...he took his god damn time!"
He could tell she was growing agitated, as the column of ash dropped from the end of the cigarette and into the tray. She threw the butt in and threw herself back, causing the chair to rock slightly as she folded her arms across her chest."It's OK Sam, you can tell me..."
"He didn't say sorry!" It was more of a whine now, a high pitched voice that suited her girlish figure. "He didn't care." She tilted her head forward, and he found himself surprised to see traces of tears just under her eyes.
"What happened on that day Sam?"
"I was....upset. I hadn't heard from him and my parents brought home some wine from the shop..."
Red eyes on orange horizons, If Columbus was wrong I'd drive straight off the edge, I'm seeing redShe poured it into the glass, ignoring the excess that sloshed over the side. Eagerly she grabbed it and put it to her lips, savouring the strong twang that came along with the taste of alcohol. She breathed it in, exhaling after her first gulp as if she'd just take the longest, sweetest drag on a cigarette. After her sixth glass, she picked up the bottle and stared, frowning at it, looking at her distorted reflection in the glass. Tilting her head to one side, she counted off their differences.
"One," she mumbled "blonde hair. Mine's black. Two, it's long. Mine's short. Three, beautiful face, beautiful body, huge tits. He said my face was cute, my body's ugly and my tits are tiny."
By the time she got to five (her green eyes, which had briefly caught her own hazel eyes, followed by a flash of a smirk...she had been on top, her pelvis thrusting back and forth...she had looked so pleased with herself when she had seen Sam...) she was seeing red in the bottle, and not just from the stains of the wine.
Replaying in her mind she saw the wine flowing out of the bottle, into the glass, and for a brief second imagined it more crimson, slightly thicker, and flowing not from a bottle but from a neck...his neck...her neck...
Why should she not stop his heart when he had broken her own?
I've got a big fat fucking bone to pick with you my darling, In case you haven't heard I'm sick and tired of trying, I wish you would take my radio to bathe with you, plugged in and ready to fallShe called his name when she got to the house, standing in the hallway, (the door had been unlocked, again) wearing a jacket that had once been his, long enough to cover the shorts she was wearing, large enough to protect her body, under the jacket naked except for the fancy, sexy bra she had worn just for him but never got to show him.
She called his name again, and then suddenly he was standing at the top of the stairs, looking down at her.
"Sam....oh god Sam..."
He went to climb down, but she shook her head. She was shivering, she was cold.
"It doesn't matter." She whispered. "Go to your room, I'll be there now."
Within five minutes she was there, and he was sitting on the edge of his bed, his knees crossed. He looked up as she walked in, and gave her the lightest, softest of smiles.
"Oh Sam, I'm so...."
She shrugged, cutting him off, as if it didn't really matter. She slipped the jacket off, placing it gently on the bed and turning to look at him; at the way his eyes widened when he saw what she was wearing, the way he took a deep breath to calm himself. He leant forward slightly, and she raised a hand.
Silently, she slid the shorts off, and again he gulped, again he couldn't help but lean forward.
"Oh god Sam." The words came out slowly, and she knew he was now struggling not to leap up and take her in his arms. She tilted her head to one side, swaying slightly, but he didn't care; he didn't notice.
He didn't even attempt to apologise, she thought, not properly, not really.
"Come here." She lifted her head now, chin raised, eyes locked on him as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and took slow, tentative steps towards her. She edged backwards, watching as he moved in front of her. She had her back to the bed as she lowered herself, hand reaching backwards and under the coat. "Sweetie, come here." She repeated, watching as he leant forward, his face growing closer to her, his hand reaching out and resting on the bed, a hand either side as his lips locked on her own.
In a few seconds the knife had been withdrawn and his throat cut.
Plugged in and ready to fall, Plugged in and ready to fall..."Sorry love," she had woken up now, and was staring at his lifeless body lying there on the floor, the throat cut, the blood congealed around his head, sucked into the floor like the red wine she'd spilt the previous night "something had to be done."
She stretched her legs out, breathing the smoke out slowly and tilting her head back to watch it curl up.
She heard one of his roommates call his name, heard them moving downstairs.
She almost laughed, but instead settled for closing her eyes, absorbing his room because, well, she wouldn't be allowed back here again.
"In here!" She called, as she had done so many times before.
"Sam?" He was surprised, shocked even, and she couldn't help but smile as she heard the door open. "Jesus Christ Sam!"
The door slammed, and she knew he was scared; but he shouldn't be.
He hadn't broken her heart.
Plugged in and ready to fall"Sam, can you sign this for me?"
He looked down at the small girl as she muttered "sure" and bent over the paper, signing in a scrawled signature after reading it.
"Is it accurate?"
She tilted her head back, smiling up at him. "Can I see my mum and dad now?" She asked, and he nodded slowly.
"Give me a minute Sam."
"Sure." She nodded, and watched as he left the room, pulling the door close behind him. So young, barely older than his own daughter. So young and a killer.
He fell against the wall, squeezing his eyes shut and running his hands through his hair before letting out a groan.
The world, he thought, was a very fucked up place; especially when you were 16 and in love. He cursed himself, he cursed her, and he cursed the dead University student who had broken her heart and driven her to murder.