He loves me, he loves me not

til death do us part...

We walked for 30 secondes without saying a word.  I could see he was getting annoyed and second guessing his decision.  He stopped and was about to talk when I interrupted him.

" I love you"

What am I doing !? Why would I just say it like this.  He is going to run away from me.  He is going to think I'm mental. But then I saw his face. He didnt look surprised at all. 

" I figured that part out" he just said with a chuckle.

This should have pissed me out.  I should have felt asshamed but I held on to this crazy hope that he would say he loved me too.  But he only added with this condecendent voice.

" But you see, it is not really love you are feeling".  He was holding on a laugh now. "You are confused". He continued.  " we can be friends if you like.?

My vision became blurry with tears.  He does think im crazy.  He doesnt love me. My hand got to my backpack blindly looking for the cold touch of the blade. I was decided.   I said I had to have him. And I will. 

He didnt see it coming.  When the blade entered his well chiseled stomach his eyes went wide with surpeise.  He didnt yell.  A lot of expression went through his face.

Suprise ...

Fear...

Pain ...

Then the final realisation of death

I slowly went down with him. Keeping the blade as deep as it can go.  His blood was hot and velvety in my hand.  I kept his gaze until I could see his pupil dilated.  Then he stopped moving.

Even in death he was devilishely handsome.  His empty dark eyes were staring at nowhere.  His sensually traced lips were slighly opened.  Inviting for a kiss. But I wont kiss him.  He doesnt want me too, and I respect that.

But he had to give me his heart. One way or another.

I slowly pulled the knife out of his stomach and more blood rushed out.  Then, almost chirugically and I slice through his thoracic cage and with my hand I got the heart out. 

I felt a unmeasurable joy and tears rolled down my cheek. I had it finally.

His heart was mine.