The Last One Standing

The Last One Standing

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WpMetadataReadMatureOngoing1h 8m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Mon, Jan 2, 2017
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Fiction
Mystery
She smiled as the blood dropped from her finger tips onto the polished wood. She smiled in satisfaction as she saw her give her last cry. She looked at the now corpse of her now ex rival. "told you sweetie, not everything is free." She whispered into the ear of her dead friend. Kristen might be your ordinary girl in some ways but when it comes to love the last one standing wins.
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I opened the door, the apricity of the moonlight blooming over the figure lying on the bedthe same woman who had fought with me only hours ago, and now lay tucked inside my shirt, my wife. I knelt beside her, my fingers brushing her cheek as she stirred at my presence, slowly opening her eyes. "What are you doing? Stop," she murmured softly, turning away from me. I traced my hand down her back. "Why are you still awake, sweetheart?" I asked quietly. "Are you worried that your sleeping pills aren't working?" A smirk cut across my face. My clever girl always saw through me. "So you didn't eat, sweetheart?" "No. And because of you, I can't even live peacefully," she whispered, eyes shutting as if to erase me. I wiped the sheen of sweat from her neck ,sweat born of heaven and hell. "Don't touch me, Aven." I unbuttoned my shirt slowly; she still wouldn't face me. "You love beaches... this place should give you peace." "Not when you exist... and I'm nowhere in the world." A dark chuckle escaped me. "You've neither slept nor eaten, sweetheart. Get up."My breath dragging as she spoke "Why is there no lock on the bathroom, but there's one on the bedroom?" I sat beside her, leaning in, words like a blade wrapped in velvet. "So I can keep you locked up, walk in whenever I want... and f-ck you whenever I need, no matter where you hide." Her tear slid free as I turned her toward me. Her body felt breakable, a storm trapped in heat. Even with a hateful heart, she clung to me as I lifted her and carried her to the bathroom. Her tear slid free as I turned her toward me. Her body felt breakable, a storm trapped in heat. Even with a hateful heart, she clung to me as I lifted her and carried her to the bathroom. "You're a monster... I hate you," she whispered, a prayer and a curse. "I'll be anything you name me, sweetheart," I murmured, eyes burning into hers. "You own me... and I own you more."

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