Kick Me

Preface (Present) 

Thud. 

A body falls to the floor, dropping the knife he was carrying. His head repeatedly struck as he lay on the floor, his arms dropping from trying to defend himself and fell limply onto the floor.

A woman stands above him, hand clutched around the object that had hit him in the head. She stared down at him, blue eyes wide and scared. She had meant to just stop him from hurting her. She bent down over the body, a strand of blonde hair falling onto her bruised cheek. 

She looked beaten, the skin on the bridge of her nose cut and bleeding, along with a few gashes along her right cheek. The skin around her left eye was swollen and blue, mixed with a bit of purple and yellow. 

"Henrick?" she called, hoping to get a response from the man below her. He lay on his stomach, limbs laying limp on the floor, blood staining his forehead and his green eyes dull and closing. The woman's mouth hung open, her heart starting to race. 

"I'm sorry, love," she said, "I-I didn't mean to hit so hard. Please, wake up."

She fell to her knees on the floor beside him and bent over so she could see his face. She ran a hand through his hair, a warm and thick substance staining her fingers. She pulled her hand back, looking at the blood. She looked back at Henrick and placed a hand on his shoulder, shaking him slightly. 

"Henrick! Wake up!" she called to him, not getting a response. She started to cry, her chest becoming tight. He was dead. Her love was dead, and she killed him. 

She gripped the back of Henrick's shirt and placed her cheek on his back as tears leaked from her eyes. This couldn't be happening, there was no way that he was dead. She had tried so many times to kill him, and she couldn't. He hurt her, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. 

She kept remembering the man she met when they were just starting out. The Henrick that gave her a boyish smile and brought her flowers. The person she had opened up to and told him about her best friend, Nadia. Her parents, her hardships, everything. The man that used to lay with her in the field outside her house. 

The man she loved. Not the person that shoved her against the wall and screamed at her. The man that didn't break her arm when she tried to leave. 

"I'm so sorry, Henrick." she whispered against his back, trying to listen for a heartbeat. There was one, it was very faint and she sat up quickly. She needed to call an ambulance. To save his life. 

He deserves to die on this floor. A voice in the back of her head whispered to her, the woman staring down at Henrick for a few moments. She told herself that leaving him on the floor was wrong, but her head countered her again. 

He will beat you, punish you for this. 

I love him. 

Let him die. 

The woman bit her lip and bent down again, the man beneath her opening his eyes slightly again. He muttered something, the woman shaking her head at him. 

"C-Clare..." he muttered, sounding like a plea. The woman, Clare, placed a hand on his head. 

"I'm going to get you help Henrick." she muttered, standing up. She scooped up the statue that she had struck him with and bent down on one knee before swinging down and struck his skull again, Henrick letting out a painful yelp before he became completely still. His eyes were wide open, no life left in them. Clare placed the statue on the floor, her eyes trained on him. To look for any sign of life, anything to make her hit him again. But, there was nothing. 

He had finally died.

Clare smiled, a broken and twisted smile. She couldn't let him live, he would come back for her and she would be stuck in the same situation as before. The smile faded, her eyes becoming sad again. She knew that it had to be done, and she couldn't help but feel the loss. 

She loved him. She still wanted him, just not this side of him. 

As she went into the kitchen where she had left the phone with the police on the other end, she looked down at the phone before ending the call. She let her mind wonder back to when she first met him. 

Before he became a monster.