She was running away. Running and never looking back. The scenery blurred as she pressed harder on the pedal. The hand on the speedometer was increasing at a rapid pace. But it didn't matter. Nothing mattered.
Nothing, except getting as far away from him as she could. Far from everything that reminded her of him. Her eyes stared blankly forward as the road came rushing to meet her.
Her nails bit into the steering wheel. They would leave crescent-shaped indents on the caramel colored leather, but she wasn't thinking about that now. The only thing on her mind was getting far, far away. It didn't matter where she ended up as long as it was away from him.
"I can't do this anymore." His voice rang out clearly through her head. She looked at him, with her confused brown eyes. Doe eyes. Beautiful, warm, chocolate eyes, he thought.
"Do what?" she asked, in her innocent ways. She was too young, too naïve.
"Be with you." His words cut through her like a knife. A dull knife, slowly working it's way through her heart. He knew what his words did to her. He also knew what she felt, he felt tenfold. But he didn't say that. He didn't tell her that it was tearing his soul in half that he had to do this to her. He didn't voice that after she left, he would go insane with loneliness, or that he would have no more reason to live. He didn't—couldn't tell her that he loved her more than humanly possible and that he would die a thousand times before he would let anyone hurt her.
But the irony was that he was the only one who was hurting her now. Hypocrite, his mind blared. He wouldn't be able to live with himself after this. Good thing he wouldn't have to.
"I—I don't understand," she whispered, her small fragile hands balling into fists, as she clung on to his shirt. "Why—Did I do something?" He nearly laughed. The only thing she could do was make him happy. How could she even think that she had done something wrong? He cringed as the tears streamed down her face. She had been so strong. So strong. And now she was crying. He did this to her. It was all his fault.
She ignored the hot, salty tears that streamed down her face now. The sun was setting and it's rays shot across the sky, dyeing it purple, and pink, and orange, and red.
"... Driving away, and leaving it all behind..." The radio was now on and the music cushioned her against the waves of reality. She lost herself in the sounds, knowing that it wouldn't last for long. Nothing lasted. Everything was over and there was no happy ending.
"You didn't do anything, and there's nothing that you can do. It's over." His voice came out harsher than he had intended, but she was so close, and his control was wavering. It's for her own good, he reminded herself. Protect her at all costs, he reminded himself. She would get over him—in time. Everyone would. It was just another part of the routine, only now, there was a complication. She was the complication.
It was nearly dark now. She could barely make out the road in front of her, but she kept driving. She wouldn't stop until she rid herself of him and her memories. She wanted to forget everything. She wanted to be mad at him, to hate him, to curse his name to God.
But she couldn't. She still loved him. That couldn't be forgotten, no matter how much she would try, the memories would still cling to her.
She wanted him to suffer as much as she did. But she never knew that he was suffering much more for his actions.
She just stood there as he gently removed her small hands from his shirt. She was motionless as he brushed his lips against hers for the last time. She was quiet as he said goodbye. She was helpless as he walked away.
He hadn't even given her a reason. Was there another woman? Did he just get bored with her? What had she done to turn him away? She wanted to run after him, but deep down, she knew she couldn't get him to come back to her.
The road seemed endless, and she was glad for that. She never wanted to stop—never wanted to slow down. It was nearly midnight. The stars were so bright. They sparkled like diamonds strewn across a cloak of dark velvet.
So beautiful, she thought. The sky became cloudy and the stars disappeared. She could make out the faint silhouette of the full moon beaming through the clouds.
And then the rain came again.
It began as a soft pitter-patter, but augmented into a downpour. It was getting harder to see the road, even with the windshield wipers.
It began raining right after he left her. It took every ounce of his control not to look back. He knew he would see her delicate form watching him, and he would look into her expressive eyes and lose it. Completely.
He had to get away. Far, far away from her. Some place where the memories of her wouldn't haunt him anymore. And he hadn't even given her a reason. It was the least he could have done, he supposed, but he couldn't lie to her again. It was hard enough the first time.
He knew he wasn't going to make it through tomorrow. He had a job to do. One that would most likely get him killed, unless he just happened to get incredibly lucky.
He wasn't a lucky person.
Except for when he got her.
It had been countless hours, and she was still running away. She didn't know when, or even if, she could ever stop. The rain was still pouring down outside. It seemed like thesky was crying for her. She began to feel irritated. She didn't need pity. She didn't want it.
"Stop!" she screamed, as if her mere voice would silence the rain. She broke down and sobs wracked her body. She felt so lifeless and unwanted. The car slowed down in front of a motel.
Suddenly, she was tired of running, tired of being a coward and running from her problems. She just wanted to rest and regain her thoughts.
She would try to forget him. She would try to tuck his memory into the very darkest, deepest corner of her mind where she could never find them again. He would get what he had wanted.
She would erase his essence from her life.
He smiled weakly as the blood trickled out from the corner of his mouth.
"So this is how it ends," the other man spoke, his voice holding an amused tone. "Both of us, with guns to our heads. Dying for something we can never have."
He closed his eyes and thought of her face. He would try to find his way back to her somehow. Maybe in another lifetime, maybe in heaven. He laughed at the thought. After everything he has done, did he actually think that he wouldn't go to hell?
He had worked for the devil, himself, and he thought that he could be forgiven for all of his sins?
He could never be cleansed of the blood on his hands. The hands that have touched her.
She would never know.
Her innocence was almost laughable. She had been so trusting and caring. What would she have said, if he had told her the truth? he wondered. But it didn't matter now. She would never know.
Besides, lies were so much better than the truth.
He couldn't tell her about all of the lives that he'd taken. He could imagine the looks of horror and disgust if she had found out. That would be a million times harder than telling her that he didn't love her.
But no. She wouldn't hate him for it. She would pity him. Empathize with him. Her heart was too big to turn him away. He couldn't take the pity. Not from anyone—not from her.
"When you choose to do what we do, we can never have what we want," he finally replied, grimly. Their guns, pointed at each other, were cocked and ready.
With one pull of the trigger, it would be done.
She couldn't cry anymore. Her tears were spent and her eyes were swollen. All she could think about was that she should have told him. She should have told him that she had known. That could have been the only reason he would leave her.
She knew that he was a killer, but she didn't care. She loved him anyway. She loved him because he loved her, and to her, that was all that mattered. Now, it was too late. He was gone from her life forever. She sat, rocking gently, on the fluffy, queen-sized bed that the motel offered. Her knees were pulled up, so that her chin was resting on them.
The last thought that floated through her mind before she lost consciousness was that she never even got to say goodbye.