F*ck Me Pumps

Broken Glass...Ssss Did I do that?

The room was dark.

Darkness is a form of loneliness, loneliness is a form of darkness.

But that wasn't the case for Beau. She was livid. Her features tightened as her arched eyebrows dropped lower to shade her glare. She stared at the black and white picture in a frame in front of her. To think she was once happy with that sorry excuse for a boyfriend, damned devil in disguise. His arm was wrapped around her waist as her small nutmeg-colored hand ran through his jet-black ivy-league haircut. They looked truly happy as they sat on the hood of his 1971 Dodge Challenger. She never really understood his fascination with that car. Something about it being a classic or some shit. Beau dismissed the thought with a wave of her trembling hand.

She looked over at the digital clock next to the picture, 10:57 p.m.

She truly liked him. And for him to fuck her over just pissed her the fuck off. How dare he play her?! Her hands opened and closed in tight fists. She yelled out in a frustration, spewing harsh words into the dark room of her living room. She was like a volcano letting out her pent up emotions in the darkness.

Beau lunged forward at the picture and threw it on the floor. It landed right side up, but the glass was shattered. And she didn't give a shit.

She wanted to hurt him like he did her. How could he cheat on her?

She stood in the middle of her dark living room, with her hand on her hip, looking for something to relieve her anger on. Thinking, she ran her free hand through her thick, coiled hair. It bounced back to its original, undisturbed state.

She didn't want to destroy any of her things, because what would that solve? She'd only end up with her hard-earned cash wasted. And there's no damn fun in that.

Then, like an epiphany, she ran to her closet, grabbing all of his clothes he had kept over to her house. Beau grabbed all his belongings and threw them on her fluffy bed.

She observed them on her bed, they were missing something. They were too neat, too bland. She needed something to brighten them up, her EX-boyfriend needed some clothes that matched his NEW personality.

Smirking, Beau gathered his clothes into her tiny embrace, as she carried them to her claw-foot tub, dumping them carefully in it. She ran to her cabinet under the kitchen sink for the Clorox, and walked back into the bathroom. She poured the contents of the jug over the clothes, dropping the empty gallon in the tub.

'I don't wanna suffocate.' Beau thought, as she went to open the small window, that was adjacent to tub.

Satisfied with her work of art, she walked back into the living room looking to what to do next. She looked down at the broken picture on the floor. Before her mind clicked.

She ran to her closet and pulled out her metal Demarini baseball bat. She hummed as she grabbed a screwdriver and keys from the kitchen.

Beau looked at the picture on the floor once more, focusing her attention on David's classic car. Sure it was classic, but when she finished with it, it was going to be ancient.

She grabbed her denim jacket and walked out of her apartment.

-----

Beau got in her black Pt Cruiser Convertible, throwing the bat in the backseat, she then proceeded to let down her car's top.

Something started to ring. And for a momentary lapse, Beau forgot she owned a cell phone.

She shook her head at her forgetfulness, and reached for her phone as she started the car and drove out of the parking lot.