Necrophobia

M.+H. Forever.

(Marilyn's pov)

If you're standing over an unswerving line, separating the two dimensions of the sane and those who walk the fields with insanity leaking out from their skin, like beaded sweat on your forehead; would you know what foot to move first? Would you know even know you're standing at the crossroads of the pureness that lit a match that brightened your horizons, or at the very thing that dimmed them at night? I certainly didn't.

Being sane was boring, or at least in my opinion. Sure, it came to excite many brainwashed fools who were entangled in money, sex, and drugs. Overall they just wanted power over the unfortunate. Fools like my parents. If they only knew the thrill insanity slowly threads into your life.

But much to my dismay, my parents weren't the only people I knew who craved such power. My former boyfriend/ lover/ soul mate, or any other wretched nickname people have given our relationship, undeniably starved for it. It disgusted me in ways that was unfathomable to the human mind. He disgusted me.

I should of just left and called this estranged relationship to an ending; but I couldn't, for many obstacles constantly blocked my road to freedom. The first and most important being my parents, their indestructible connections with Harry's parents formed the second they found that we were of opposite genders. They must have used a lot of their nonexistent brain cells to formulate a plan as such. It was a terrible waste too, I was never going to live a life with Harry.

I'll even admit that I made several plans to drop Harry, but one stuck out, one that was so unbelievably risky. One that sparked a feeling I hadn't quite felt in a such a while, joy. I nodded my head in complete and utter approval, surly this was one of the most delightful experiences my life had ever encountered. I was going to be free, finally.

I toke a step into the green pastures thriving off of insanity. I made my choice.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Marilyn fiddled with her fingers, buttoning and unbuttoning her sweater. She was incredibly nervous.

There she was sitting on the cold stone stairs that led to the front entrance of her house. The biggest mansion on the block.

Looking at her watch, she shook her head in disappointment. He was supposed to be here by now. It was awfully chilly, and the frigid wind was a slap in the face. Although Harry's lack of being prepared was a thing that fueled her hatred towards him, she also was in desperate need of it. She had extra time to get her nerves under control.

'Breathe in. Breathe out.' she subconsciously spoke.

When Marilyn  finally had authority of herself, an echoed beep rang through her ears. He had arrived.

She peeled one eye open first, then the other. Annoyance seeping into her veins. God help her if the plan didn't work out.

The sleek, black Escalade Cadillac silently drove forward up the narrow slab of pavement. Once he reached her, he stopped and beeped yet another agonizing time.

She clenched her jaw shut, and clasped her hands into tight fists. He was in that mood tonight. She forced herself up and stiffly made her way to the car, opening the door.

"Hello, Harry." The thought of being next to him made her nauseous.

He pulled his Calvin Klein sunglasses to the bridge of his nose. "You're wearing that?" His voice laced with displeasure.

Marilyn looked down at her outfit. She wore a simple yet elegant outfit. The threads of her sweater made by nothing but the most delicate hands of designer brands. She wore nothing but the best.

"I thought we were going somewhere simple." she said casually clenching her teeth into a smile.

"It doesn't matter. You look unprepared, not neat at all."

Her face drooped for a second, then her plan came to mind. She couldn't start a fight, this wasn't the right time. Not even telling him he's a arrogant asshole could bring her as much bliss as her plan brought along with it.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to ruin the night."

"Sorry doesn't fix your outfit." he pouted.

She just shook her head in response, reminding herself to keep calm.

He started to back out of the driveway, his hands gripping the steering wheel tight.

Marilyn silently cursed, different outcomes of her plan suddenly flashing right before her eyes. Maybe she wasn't ready.

(9:47 p.m. after dinner)

Stumbling out of the 5 star restaurant, Harry belched. His mannerisms were nowhere to be found in fact. He clung to Marilyn, the only thing keeping him upright. His breath reeked of the vile vodka.

Marilyn kept dragging his heavy body to the car. She cringed at every incoherent word he whispered in her ear, but it was all part of the plan. People didn't pay them any attention as they hastily walked about. She knew they wouldn't anyways.

Unlocking the car, Marilyn shoved Harry into the passenger seat. She carelessly avoided the seatbelt. With him slouched over to one side, Marilyn raced to the driver's seat and buckled herself in. She started to drive.

Harry turned his head to face her, reaching a hand out to caress her cheek.

Her foot pushed at the pedal harder; 30 miles per hour.

His thumb gently tracing circles on her cheek.

40 miles per hour

He began mumbling words Marilyn didn't seem to quite understand. Or they just went into one ear and out the other. She didn't have time to figure out which was right.

She added more pressure to her foot; 50 miles per hour.

Harry started angrily shouting her name as if he was in desperate need of her attention. She didn't budge.

60 miles per hour.

"Marilyn, I love you."

Their car hit a head first collision with a garbage truck.

Marilyn only saw one thing before the darkness invaded her personal space, a tattoo scribbled on his wrist, which was covered the whole night.

It read,
M.+H.
Forever.

--------------------------------------------
(A.N.). Yeet