Life in Paintings

Chapter 20 - Othello and Desdemona

Chapter 20 – Othello and Desdemona

Hands are around my throat when I wake up and I'm gasping for air.

I'm choking. Someone is killing me. And I know who it is. Knowing who is doing this to me actually seems to hurt more than the choking itself.

I'm Desdemona. I know this. I can feel it. Usually, I'm not as much of a central part of the action as I am now. I'm not usually replacing someone with a specific name, but in this instance, I know this—I'm Desdemona and this is Othello, my love and he's killing me.

My love is killing me.

And for a second, it's not Othello's face I see hovering over mine, it's Gustave. It's not Othello killing Desdemona, it's Gustave killing Melody. He's killing me, chocking the life out of me. I know he loves me, I can feel it, but he doesn't trust me, he feels like he doesn't know me. I've betrayed him, I can see it in his eyes, that's what he thinks.

But I haven't. I didn't betray him.

Or at least, Desdemona didn't betray Othello. He's the one betraying her.

But I... me, Melody, I deserve this. I killed myself in front of Gustave. I chose death over dealing with my emotions.

I'm a coward. I'm an emotional coward. I can live through any kind of physical pain—hell I was skinned alive. But when it comes to feelings I'm useless. Gustave didn't know this when he tried to open his heart to me. And I probably died in his arms. At least it felt like I had.

And I'm going to die in his hands again. He should be choking me with a pillow or my sheets, I know this, but somehow, this time, in this place, he needs to see my face doing this. He needs to look in my eyes. Because it'll only hurt more.

I cry and I claw at his hands and I cry and I beg him, beg Gustave to let go.

"I have to kill you, even if you're what I love the most, I have to kill you because you betrayed me," he chokes.

I start to see white spots. I can't answer him, I can't say anything. I can't beg for forgiveness, for time to explain. I can't even tell him that maybe, yes, maybe I do love him.

Because I have no more breath left.

And no more life.