Clichés In the Dark Past {FIN}[Editing]

Chapter One.

Deeper than words, beyond right

Die for your love, beyond life

Sweet as a Jesus piece, beyond ice

Blind me baby with your neon lights

Ray Bans on, police in sight

Oh, what a beautiful death

Let's both wear white

If you go to heaven and they bring me to hell

Just sneak out and meet me, bring a box of L's

She fell in love with the bad guy, the bad guy

What you doing with them rap guys, them rap guys

They ain't see potential in me girl, but you see it

If it's me and you against the world, then so be it

***

Beyoncé

It was the placid evening of my soulmate and I's second anniversary, and we rested casually on the sofa, dressed in evening wear before the dinner that he had planned, yet chose not to reveal detail about. I rubbed Shawn's chest as I lay in his lap, being sure not to wrinkle my dress, and studying the enticing features that equated to his face. He chuckled at me and bore his richly brown eyes into mine.

"That tickles," he let out, his voice carrying that small, scratchy timbre that I found myself often adoring. My finger rested upon my lips, a gesture he recognized as a request for a kiss. I allowed my eyelids to close when he placed his lips unto mine, and they seemed to fit into the crevices of each other like a solved puzzle. Yes, I believed that we were the final pieces to the puzzle of each other.

"When should we leave for the restaurant?" Once the kiss found itself in a moment of the past, my mind wandered lingeringly to the ideas of the night ahead. Looking out of the window at the Hudson River, I noticed the precise line where the water seemed to be holding the sky in its never faltering grasp. Still admiring the beauty of the scene, I listened to Shawn's words as he revealed the reservations for two he had made at some sort of restaurant named Orangee. He glanced down at his gold Rolex and turned his head back to mine.

"We should actually be going about now," he pointed out. I stood up and put on my black, red-bottomed heels that made me so much taller, it should have been illegal.

Then, without me even having the opportunity to grab my purse, there were bullets. They shattered the windows, they left holes in the furniture, they left bullet casings on the ground. My tears couldn't seem to withhold themselves as Shawn's arm draped around my shoulders and he lead me, crouching to the ground, toward the garage.

"We've gotta go," he muttered, letting go of me to stop at the coat closet and retrieve a stupendous amount of guns that he shoved in a duffel bag.

"Shawn, what the hell?" Those were the only words that I could seem to form, especially since there seemed to be secrets lurking, and the one who had them was the man running beside me to the car.

"Now is not the time, Bey! Damn! You ask too many questions!" My first instinct was to pop him on the side of his head, since he had disrespected me as well as the fact that I had every right to ask questions; We had just been put in harm's way, and he was the reason why. That gave me every possible justification to ask questions.

We got inside of the Maybach convertible that sat, seemingly shouting at us that it was the fastest of our five cars. Perhaps that was the reason Shawn had chosen it. "Stay down," he said to me as he fired his gun, the piercing sound of the shots making me cower into the passenger seat like a frightened child. My mouth dropped when he pulled out onto a two lane road without even the slightest bit of remorse or nervousness. He was a bit more used to that scenario that what I felt comfortable with, but what could I have possibly said to show my disapproval? "What?" He asked, his tone so utterly nonchalant.