|Title: Colder Than Ice
Summary: Obsession and jealousy
Disclaimer: This is not real. Any similarity to real events or persons is strictly coincidental.
Notes: Just a dark little thing I came up with at work.
But she won't listen. Oh, no, not her. She's moved on now, she says. She's happy now, she says, and He doesn't hit her. He is a good man, and he loves her. She tells him that she doesn't love him anymore. Maybe, she says, she never did.
She did, though. And she still does. He knows it. Knows that if he could just make her listen, she'd see.
But, no. She refuses, just like always. Thinks she knows what's best for her. And she wonders why he used to have to smack her around. It's because she doesn't know shit. This new guy doesn't -- can't -- love her like he does.
She's taken out a restraining order, she says. He can't come near her anymore.
Well, he'll just see about that.
The gray light of pre-dawn washes out everything, leeches the color right out of his surroundings. It doesn't matter, not to him. In fact, he thinks, it's perfect. Fitting. As is the dew that covers the bushes where he stands. The same dew that soaks his clothing, leaves his skin cold and clammy.
Like his heart.
The same heart she ripped out and stomped all over with her Prada heels. But that's okay. He'll get his own back today. He'll make her see her mistake, make her realize how she fucked up.
How she fucked it all up.
This is her fault.
All of it.
His fingers caress the barrel of the snub nosed .38 slowly, gently, like a lover. The metal is cool against his skin. Cool and hard, just like her heart.
When the front door opens, he smiles a smile that's colder than ice. Finally.