The called him after 20 years.

The street was silent,
and the air, ferocious
as if depicting their head's bustling.

Her eyes were locked into his
as if demanding answers,
and his eyes on the ring which she still wore,
the one which he gifted her
on their first anniversary.

It was not a souvenir of their love,
but a noose
which stuck around her finger
with which she had to live,
not loose enough to breathe,
not tight enough to die,
but adjusted in a way
which gave her thousand deaths
in a single breath.

He left
leaving a void
left to be filled with emptiness.
He left 
leaving a ring 
with a hollow space in between
left to be filled with the flesh of her finger,
flesh that became too tired to be in that small space,
leaving raging and fiery marks around,
marks which gradually turned into scars.

Scars that once started screaming
loudly enough to mark their presence,
loudly enough to perform a rebellion, 
loudly enough to reach her ears.

That day, she decided to meet him
to conquer the emptiness,
to invade the hollow space,
to heal the scars,
to comfort the flesh,
to destroy the noose,
to turn the ring into a piece of rock,
to free herself.

To free herself.

His eyes on her ring,
and her finger
an inch away from the knife.

SLASH...
The knife pierced the finger
detonating all the remains.

BLOOD...
The blood marking the victory over all the marks. 
That day,
the only remnants left were-
some marks on the knife.
Her blood
His blood
entwined together.
And a dead corpse.

And she left.
She left.
For ever.