It was a rainy day, that day. I decided to cut work short by not taking my lunch break so I could go home early and be with Sylvia. I dropped by the local florist, Debbie, and bought a boquet of roses for her. I smiled at the thought of her surprised, but gleeful, face when I handed them to her on one knee.
I didn't bother to knock; it was my house. I crept up the stairs, knowing that this time of the day she always took her beauty nap. She was already beautiful enough; but I didn't care about looks. Sylvia was the sweetest, kindest girl anyone would ever know.
Well, that's what I thought, at least.
I opened our bedroom door. Sylvia was with a man. Another man that wasn't me, moaning and sighing with pleasure as he moved up and down on her under the comforter.
The roses slipped from my fingers as I stared in shock.
Then Sylvia noticed me. Her dark eyes went wide in horror and she quickly pushed the man off of her. He then caught sight of me also, and seemed a little embarrassed.
"Mikey," Sylvia gasped, swiping her black bangs out of her eyes with a tan hand. "Mikey, I--"
I couldn't speak. I simply turned, shut the door, and left. I sat down numbly on the couch, staringmy reflection in thetelevision. My hurt blue eyes stared back under my wet blond hair.
Part of me wanted to die, part of me wanted to disappear forever. Yet another part of me didn't know what it wanted.
I heard Sylvia's footfalls rapidly descending the stairs. "Mikey!"
I stood up as she entered the living room in her pink bathrobe. "You have two days to collect your things and leave this house. I can make arrangements to pay for a hotel for you until you can find another place to stay if necessary," I said emotionlessly.
Tears welled up in her eyes. "You're breaking up with me?" her voice cracked, broken up by sobs. "Mikey, I can explain."
"There's no need," I said. "I completely understand. I'm not good enough for you, so you had to find some way to satisfy yourself."
"No, Mikey, no," Sylvia cried. "We can work this out, I promise. Don't make me leave. I have nowhere to go, Mikey." Then she broke down completely and sank to the floor tears streaming. She gripped the hem of my shirt. "Please," she begged.
I didn't feel sorry for her. I walked by her, forcing her to release me, and went into the kitchen to get something to eat. I hadn't eaten lunch, after all. What surprised me was that I had absolutely no feelings left for Sylvia. No, wait. I did.
It was total hatred for every fiber of her being, every reason for her existence. I glowered as I made a turkey and cheese sandwich. I would make her feel the pain I did. I would make her feel every bit of any pain she had ever caused me in the two years we'd been dating.
I whistled as I walked down the hallway to my office, swinging my briefcase back and forth in time to my energetic stride. My co-workers stared at me in concern and confusion. I didn't blame them for being baffled. In all the three years I've worked in this firm, they've never known me to even smile.
But I now had a reason to smile. There was nothing, or no one, holding me back from happiness. Besides, life is too short, I reckon now, to spend all my time being angry.
Sylvia had already moved into an apartment, just one day after my telling her to leave. The only thing she left behind was her furniture and some of her clothes. She would come for them later, when I wasn't there.
I scratched words on the wall. I didn't realize what I was doing; I had picked up my red ballpoint pen and was twirling it through my fingers on my right hand while pacing back and forth along the pale yellow wall. The next thing I knew, there were random words scrawled on my wall.
Bitch die die die kill die unforgivable I will have revenge. Die. broken
You hurt me; I'll kill you. Die. Six. Red. Six red. Red Six.
RED RED RED RED RED SIX. 666666666666666666666666666
I frowned. Had I written that? What was with that?
I let the pen fall to the floor as I backed away from the wall. I had no idea what the fuck I was doing. Maybe I needed to go to bed.
No, I should get some work done first.
I sat down on the couch and opened up my briefcase. I pulled out the paperwork I was supposed to have done before work tomorrow.
I read over what I had written, and steadily became more and more horrified.
Die die die die bitch six. SIX. p.m. RED. 6
A large red blot took up most of the last page. I stared at it, unable to look away from the insane stain. Slowly, a devil's face made itself visible.
Then I blinked; the picture went away. I saw that the pages had somehow returned to normal, as if those things written had never been there in the first place. I frowned in confusion. I had no idea what was going on.
Sylvia has yet to come for her things. I decided to take them to her. I wasn't sure whether she had forgotten or didn't want them, but I sure didn't want them. She wouldn't answer the phone, so I'd just have to show up unannounced.
I felt my pen press against my chest as I leaned the hevy box full of shoes against myself to keep it steady as I carried it up the apartment stairs. My thoughts turned to Sylvia against my will.
I remembered her laugh, how her smile made me smile. How her smooth skin felt against mine -- her delicious grilled cheese sandwiches. All gone now.
I thought of how warm her blood would be, dripping through my fingers. Her cold eyes staring into the next world. How it would feel to fuck her body.
The pen pressed uncomfortably now.
I kicked the door a few times to improvise knocking. "Coming," called her faint voice.
The clock tower across the street read 6:00.
Sylvia opened the door with a smile, which promptly disappeared. "Oh," was her greeting.
"I brought your things," I murmured. She stepped aside andheld the door open to allow my entry. I walked in. "Where do you want it?"
"You can put it in the bedroom."
I set it at the foot of the bed. The pen pinched my skin, and I took it out of my shirt pocket. I stared at the red ballpoint pen that I had written on the wall with.
"Thank you," said Sylvia from the door. I turned to face her. "Please leave now. I'm expecting someone."
"That would explain the lingerie you're hiding under your bathrobe." I turned away from her and looked out of the window. It was a beautiful day; the sun was shining against the cloudless blue sky, there was a slight, gentle breeze, the works.
"Mikey," Sylvia uttered impatiently.
I turned back to her. She was standing with her weight on one foot, arms folded across her chest. She wore a scowl. My attention was called back to the window as a large semi rumbled by. "Come here," I said.
Sylvia scoffed, but obliged. She obviously wanted me out as soon as possible. "What do you--uck!"
I turned my head only slightly to catch her surprised expression as I back-handedly stabbed my pen into her gut. Then she looked up at me with wide, terrorized eyes and a gaping mouth.
"Bitch," I said, jerking the pen out. Then I raised it over my head as she bent hers to look down at her wound, and shoved it down into the back of her neck.
She went down silently, crumpled to the floor like a rag doll.
I tucked the bloody pen back into my shirt pocket, then bent down and picked her up by her hair. I hoisted Sylvia up onto the bed and laid her on her back. I pulled off her pink bathrobe, revealing th lingerie that I knew would be there. I took that off, too. Then I spread her legs and unzipped my pants, climbing up onto the bed.
After the deed was done, I left. I passed her new boyfriend on the stairs, and gave him a smile.
The next day, the police came knocking on my door.
I beamed at them, and turned around and put my hands behind my back. "Arrest me."