Twisted Beginings
Prologue
Chris
Winding her wonderful hair with care and precision behind her head, blue eyes gazing ahead through the small window, the sunset right ahead seen from our Honey Moon suit in Paris, floor three, room 101. My hand around her small shoulder. My own eyes on her face. “What are you staring at?” She mumbles with a bitter bite to her voice.
“Nothing.” I whisper, unwillingly tearing my eyes from her form, and moving them to a small bird on the street, its little beak tapping away at the miniscule crumbs scattered about the littered streets. A soft sigh releases itself from between the lips of the woman beside me. My arm falls away from her shoulder. What was the point? It wouldn’t work.
“I love you.” I whisper, a tear burning at the corner of my eye. She frowns, looking at me now. I turn to face her, my eyes pleading, “I love you.” My words forceful.
She just shakes her head, her eyes full of hate, “I loved you once.” She stands with unbearable grace, stepping her way around the numerous obstacles lying in her way, the overturned sofa and the smashed glass, and she leaves me
Her face fills my mind, so beautiful. Our wedding day, all in white, but her lips; the red of the most beautiful rose, and as she walked towards me her eyes were on my best man. A wink. My heart dropped. The exchange of wedding vows, tears in my eyes. Forget it; forget it. I slip the gold band with its little diamond onto her small nimble finger. A forced smile. Teeth grinding behind the smile. Her amazing blue eyes stare into mine, mascara clinging to her usually pale eyelashes. So beautiful. My wife. But you can never, ever keep something to yourself, not of that severity. It gnawed at me. Burned a hole through my chest. Irritable and upset, on the plane I wouldn’t talk. She shook my shoulder. Tears in her eyes, I could see it behind her eyes, what she was thinking, “Is he going to do it again?” Cold, undisguised fear. It gave me a kick.
We arrived at the hotel, her steps; sluggish, slow. I savoured it. She’d get what was coming to her. I closed our room door behind us; locked it. I dropped our cases to the floor and turned the stereo on full blast.
Twenty minutes later, she’s walking away from me. Taking her case in her hands, and my credit card. Shame now filling me, I look up at her as she turns, the side of her face a sickly purple. “Why?” She chokes out, “You promised.” I just shrugged and stared at her; she deserved it right? “You’re evil.” She cries at me, slamming the door behind her. I stare down at my bruised knuckles, a small smile forming on my lips, “She’ll be back.” I mutter, “She always comes back.”
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