I'll Love You Forever

November 20, 2009
“Oh jeez, Dan. I can’t do this. You know I hate pictures.” I plead, my face turning a deep, burning red.

“Come on, Kayla! It’s okay. I want a picture of you and me to keep for when I’m away.” Dan says with that irresistible smile, his bright, expressive doe-brown eyes sucking me in.

I let out a defeated sigh, and trudge over to where he stands with the camera. “Fine, but I look like a mess.” I mumble under my breath, but the unintentional grin forming on my face gives away my real emotions.

He wraps an arm around me, and gives me a tight hug before running over to the camera to set the timer. He rushes back, short brown hair ruffling messily from the hurry. He gives me that gleaming smile, and gently wraps his fingers in mine. I can’t help but smile as I feel my heart swell as the camera clicks and flashes.

Dan retrieves the camera, and reviews it with pride. “You look lovely. Radiant. Absolutely perfect. Now when I’m away on my business trips, you’ll always have something to know I’m here with you. I’ll love you forever, Kayla.”

? ? ?

To any other person, this scene would be calming.

These streets are dark and quiet, the only thing keeping the overbearing silence from swallowing the neighborhood whole is the lonely cricket’s lament. The homes, modeled richly to suit every owner’s personal desires, stand as silent brick guardians in the darkness, windows aglow with the fragile souls living within. Safe. Sound. A single wisp of a cloud glides across the pregnant moon, unveiling her, allowing her to bathe the empty streets in her silvery moonbeams.

This scene is perfect.

And it makes my blood boil.

I stare out at the house I’ve parked my old black Cadillac in front of -HIS house- with soulless, granite eyes. I can see him with her through the window, cuddled up on the couch and watching TV like I never had existed. I can feel the sting of bile rising in the back of my throat, and look away just as he leans in to kiss his wife.

I wonder if she knows that just yesterday he was kissing me.

I’m not sure which wife came first, her or me, but I’m just going to assume that from the moment we first met to the moment he said “I do,” was all a lie. I force myself to turn back and see the truth displayed before me.

Dan’s other wife is beautiful, though. I watch as he strokes a golden-brown cheek, and brush a stray strand of steely black hair out of her perfect face. Her obsidian eyes twinkle and shine as if she had stars captured within. The diamond ring on her slender finger glints at me, mimicking the one on my own bony finger.

I glance at myself in the car mirror. No wonder why he chose her.

The figure I see is far from radiant, but rather, locked in the purgatory between hideous and lovely. Dirty-blonde hair hangs in limp, lifeless curls among the pale, solemn face. Her lips, chapped from a history of habitual, nervous lip-biting, are pressed firmly together to make a hateful grimace. Her eyes are red and puffy from hours upon hours of ceaseless crying, the salty tear stains still lingering as stains on her soft, pink cheeks. However, the icy-blue depths of the glimmering pools are stony and sure, filled with loathing.

The eyes of someone prepared to kill.

And I am.

I glance back through the window to see Dan snuggling up to his wife again, arms wrapped around her lovingly. The pistol’s cold, heavy metal burned in my pocket against my thigh, ready to go.

I get out and slam the car door shut, seething. My heels echo their rhythmic clicks back to me as I storm up the pathway to the maple front door. I pause on the porch, and the chill night air swirls about me in a gust, but I’m already frozen inside. I take a deep breath, loose a low, guttural growl, and calmly knock at the door.

I hear some soft muttering inside the house, probably wondering who it is, and why on earth they would be here at one in the morning.
The heavy door slowly opens with a soft creak.

It’s Dan.


Dan’s mouth is left hanging open from the realization sinking in of just exactly who was standing in front of him.

“K-Kayla?!” he squeaks, muddy-brown eyes so wide he holds the resemblance of some terrifyingly ugly owl.

“Hello, Dan.” I murmur mellifluously, venom dripping from every syllable.

“H-how did you-?”

“I followed you. Say, this doesn’t look like the hotel you’re supposed to be staying in for your business trip,” I say with a cruel grin, soaking in his fear and reveling in his terror. I shift to the side and put a hand on my hip, gesturing with the other hand to the window. “She’s pretty, Dan. I have to wonder where you found such a gorgeous gem. I also have to wonder… Did you tell her that you’ll love her forever, too?”

Dan stands dumbstruck, a fat drip of cold sweat rolling down the bridge of his snub nose. “Kayla, please try to understand.” He whispers, probably in an attempt to hide the confrontation from his wife.

I can’t help but let out a sharp, unfeeling laugh. “HA. Understand? UNDERSTAND? I think I understand perfectly.”

I slip a hand into my pocket, and my fingers wrap around the harsh metal hidden inside, reminding me of how Dan’s fingers were looped around mine. But. This feels far more comforting.

I smirk. “You don’t deserve her, Dan. You don’t deserve anyone.”

“Kayla, please! Don’t tell Sandra!” he pleads, squealing like a pig.

“Goodbye, Dan.” I say with a sweet, sinister smile, swiftly draw the gun, then pull the trigger.

The night is broken for one brief moment, torn by a sharp, earsplitting crack. I casually step away from the bloody mess and fish through my pockets. I pull out a photo, dated only a month ago. In it, a girl with dirty-blonde hair and a man with wide, brown eyes stand, smiling, fingers intertwined.

I drop the photo on the ground, and watch it float down to nestle into the crimson pool, making the inky inscription on the back bleed; “I’ll love you forever.”

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