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This story is called Closure. I wrote it during second period.
***
My hands trembled, the only part of my body actually capable of movement. I stared blankly down at the body of my lover, whose carnage should have made me turn away in disgust. My eyes closed tightly, hoping, dreaming, PRAYING that when I opened them I would see his smiling face, feel his arms around me. My eyes opened. No, he still lay there, bound by death’s cruel embrace.
With shaking feet, I rose and left him. Left him to wash the marble floor with his blood. The tears hadn’t started yet, but they would. They always do. My feet led me to the bathroom, where I finally looked at my reflection. My hands still held the blade, and were stained with my husbands crimson love. Pale and swallow, I briefly wondered if I was going insane. If, by the death of the man I loved, my soul betrayed me. There was no answer to my question.
Yes, I could plea that it wasn’t my fault. I could insist that it was my father, who hated my choice in marriage, which finally drove me to kill the man that now lay in the hall. But there is only one choice in murder. And that choice is your own. As much as I now I will never admit this to anyone, it was my fault he died. I picked up the blade. I ignored his pleas for help, for mercy. And I ended his life.
Though my father will be proud of me, and take credit for possessing my mind, it will be me that lives with the guilt. No, I will not feign a Romeo and Juliet situation. I will not die for him. I made him die for me. With that being my choice, I will live on, never forgetting and never forgiving…understanding, finally, that we, my husband and I, are finally free.
RaysofDarkness · Wed Dec 13, 2006 @ 12:24am · 4 Comments |
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