Psykotic

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic
He was dead, right? He couldn't have been because there he stood, in front of me leaning against the tree.
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Its just a sub. For the one I really love. And please take it easy on me since I'm posting from my sidekick.

Submitted: November 20, 2009

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Submitted: November 20, 2009

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The nighti died I saw him. He was standing there in front of me, leaning against the park's oldest tree. His features, his beauty, all hidden from me but those brilliant blue eyes were still s glow. I couldn't believe it. He was dead right? He was suppose to be dead, but there he was leaning against the tree. He had that old look of hunger, passion, defiance all mixed into one plastered in his eyes.

I squeezed my eyes shut; God I had to stop, I hadn't seen this man in ten years and still he elicited feelings in my that I hadn't felt with any man since. As I re-opened my eyes he'd moved closer, maybe 2 meters away. His head cocked to one side stared at me, my short choppy hair, the ring on my left hand.

\"I thought you said you'd wait for me,\" he said barely a whisper. His face was slowly taking on a look of a enraged man. I knew this man, I'd slept with this man, I'd given the world for him and nothing he did could scare me.

\"You were pronounced KIA ten years ago Cory,\" I whispered taking a step in, \"Did you expect me to stay alone all that while? To never settle down?\"

He moved closer, his chest so powerfully built, mere inches away now. He moved his down towards mine, lips grazing over as the heat swelled in my core.

He jerked away when I replied to his gesture, staring me over.

\"Délla, I love you. I would kill you before I'd let you be with another man.\"

I looked at him as he left, leaving me alone on the sidewalk. He was always so mysterious like that. He'd left me wanting his touch but that man I called my husband would suffice enough at that time.

\"Cory, my sweet fool, what has happened to you?\" I asked no one in particular as I rounded a corner walking under a grove of trees.

\"Nothing has happened to me my dear, but lots have to you.\" A voice, his voice answered from the gloom. I heard the foot-steps get closer, and the rustling of clothes as I began to run away.

I was a fool to trust him, thinking he was still sane after what must've been done to him in those ten years. A gunshot rung out throught the grove, and park frightening away a group of roosting birds. I remeber thinking where it come from when the searing pain and blod spilt down my body.

He had done what he said he'd do. He killed me. Then as the last shot rang out he killed himself. He was truly psychotic like my mother had said. Truly and utterly pschotic.


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