Short Story

Short Story: Nothing Nice To Say

“You put me down in front of them. You’ve been telling them bad things about me”, he rumbled. A hard, sharp whisper in her ear.

She looked up into his blunt, cold green eyes.

“I love you more, Mrs Woo Woo”… “I don’t want you to be my girlfriend anymore… I want you to be my wife”…”I love you more than the stars”… where are those words now?

He kept telling her it was all her fault, but when he listed her apparent faults, none of them were real or good enough to treat her like he did, so with-hold love and validation. So why? Why, why why? In lieu of a remotely good reason, she would soul search constantly and beat herself up internally. He told her it was her fault, so it had to be. Why would someone she loved that much lie?

“I’ve not said a thing” was all she could say, her eyes creasing with sadness as another accusation was placed unjustly at her feet. It was getting harder though these days to find anything good to say about him to either defend or praise him over. She couldn’t fire a gun in his defence if it had no bullets, after all.

“You bitch. You fucking liar. I fucking hate you. All you do is put me down,” he growled, shoving her hard out of the way.

She stood alone, again, in the bar, looking around to make sure no-one saw. No-one had.

Thank God.

It was an illusion she wanted to promote. She wanted the world to only see the version of him that she had fallen crazy-madly-deeply for. That boy. The one that he used as the worm on a hook to reel her in with in the beginning.

The beginning… she was just a fifteen year old kid who had never been told she was loved by anyone, then along came this boy… How far they’d come since then. How far she’d come.

The ‘good’ side of him had been little more than an illusion. A lure. The eyes on the wings of a butterfly or the changing colours of a chameleon. Not real or there – but a camouflage, a mirage hiding who he really was. Blending him in with the good and normal citizens of the world and hiding him so well, so very well.

She was the fly enticed helplessly into the web and the spider was ripping her apart bit by bit – every day. But it was her pain and her burden. She told the world she was simply ‘unhappy’ when her own mask slipped and the desperation and pain leaked out.

But tonight, no-one saw the exchange in the bar or the hard and angry hatred in his eyes – oh, those beautiful eyes she had once so desperately adored – and she was happy knowing she was free for now.

Until she got back to her room.

She would walk slowly, terribly slowly, back that night. Back to the lair.

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