Killing Death

Chapter | 1 | The Widow Bride

It was too good to be true. Happy endings weren't meant for the damned.

Like a ghost, I floated towards the brink of the cliff. My eyes were soon fixated on the grey-blue tempest brewing below. It roared with wrath, its harsh currents driven by the howling winds. Large waves continued to slap into the screes with unwavering vengeance. The spring air had swiftly turned bitter cold, its frozen heart pierced every inch of my body like icy daggers. My body grew numb as the biting pain seeped into my core, making its nest for days to come.

The somber clouds soon joined the wake. They wept softly, each droplet drowning me further into the pit of despair. With every passing second, my heart grew heavier. The rain continued to drench my soul with agonizing sorrow, turning my faint sniffles into desperate cries. It wasn't long until my screams were muffled by the booming thunder. Each sparkling bolt crackled with fury, blocking my distress while seamlessly emulating terror. It was like my every action was being one-upped by nature.

You killed him. The words echoed through my mind in raspy whispers. I knew this voice all too well. It'd been haunting me for the past seven years. Its first appearance the night after my parents' death. All it did was linger, drilling nightmares into my sanity. Like its only goal was to make me want to rid myself of this life.

But the voice never lied. My body shook with a violent intensity, as though my core was being electrocuted. I wanted to scream, but nothing came out. My body heaved with frustration. Never in my life had I felt so helpless, so broken.

I knew better than to have let Dean in. When we had first locked eyes, I should have pulled away. I should have politely declined his request to exchange numbers. I should have never agreed to a date. And that first kiss should have never happened. But it did. The voice held me accountable for my actions as it should have. I knew I had been selfish with him. He might not have known the consequences of getting too close, but I did. Still, I'd let him into my heart, because he'd convinced me things would be different. How could he have known that it wouldn't be? I should have known better. He'd filled my life with light, and in return, I became his undoing.

Suddenly, the platinum ring on my finger burned against my skin. Dean Holt was probably lying in a grave, and it was all my fault.

My hands curled into fists, and my sobs were replaced by quiet determination.

I kicked my heels off, allowing them to fall into the chasm. As my bare feet sunk into the cold ground, I could feel the squelch of the mud beneath. Water rose up the tender terrain and ran between my toes. The cool sensation felt good. For a brief moment, the perils of life had disappeared, at least until my eyes focused on my attire. It had become nothing more than a dreadful reminder of the events that had unfolded earlier today.

I roughly pulled on the long-sleeves and tore through the delicate lace while stepping out of the ivory gown. Tears continued to stream down, as I held the heavy dress up. Through my blurred vision, I could make out the tattered train, carelessly ripped at the seams and dirtied upon being dragged across the scarp. My eyes roamed the length, before I noticed the small beige bow, that had been wrapped around the torso of the frock, had come undone. Rumpled at the edges, it hung lifelessly.

Someone must have pulled on it, I realized. Probably in an attempt to stop me as I was running away.

My body stiffened at the thought. Before long, I found myself grieving for the others at the scene. Not only had I robbed Dean from his family, I had also robbed his family the comfort of church. I didn't deserve their sympathy or affection, and I sure as hell didn't deserve this dress.

With a shallow breath, my grip loosened and I let my wedding gown slip through my fingers. My eyes followed its movement as it swayed in the wind before falling to its demise, promptly engulfed by the raging waves. Suddenly the air creeped up, wrapping around my skin with its frigid tendrils. The subtle earthy scent that had graced the morning was replaced by a wintry crispness. And the chilling breeze churned, anguishing any trace of new life.