Romantic Homicide

A short story.

The rain pounds on the windshield as I drive slowly across the deserted highway. The wipers of my car furiously swipe back and forth in their futile attempt to clear the outside view. The road ahead is dark and wet and the occasional lightning flash gives the trees a menacing outline.

I grip the steering wheel, so tight that I feel my already sore palms start to bruise.

The sky isn’t the only thing raging tonight.

The pain is a welcome sensation. It’s a different kind of pain. The tolerable kind. Bearable, even, because I know it’ll be gone by morning. A dab of anti-septic plus bandage wrapping will heal the wound in a few hours. It’s a temporary pain. Unlike the ache in my heart right now.

The ache of loss and anger.

No number of bandages will ever ease this pain.

“It wasn’t meant to be this way,” I tell her.

My words are met with silence.

The only response I get is a rumble of thunder in the distance.

“It wasn’t meant to end this way,” I say to her again, my voice louder.

The silence remains.

It comforts me in a way, oddly.

I look across at her in the passenger seat and I smile.

She’s still wearing her wedding gown, the white dress illuminated slightly by moonlight from the window. Her eyes are closed and she looks at peace.

The sight makes me happy.

I prefer it to the look she had on a few hours ago.

That look of fear and panic in her eyes as I choked her to death.

My knuckles tighten on the wheel as I remember the scene.

Bright lights. Homemade food. Laughing guests. Slow music.

A regular pre-wedding dinner.

But I wasn’t the groom. It was someone else. Some other man. He held her close as they danced amid their families. She smiled at him and he smiled back, like they had no worries in the world.

“You were really going to marry him?”

I can’t hide the bitterness in my voice.

We used to be that way too. Me and her. Many years ago, when we first fell in love.

Both of us were college kids, studying courses they hated and unsure of what the future held. The feelings were raw and intense from the start and it was unfamiliar territory for the both of us.

But we knew one thing: I loved her and she loved me.

Till it all changed.

It started small. She’d reply to my texts hours later and she’d come late for our dates with one excuse or another. Whenever we were together, she would seem distracted and when I tried to talk to her about it, she’d dismiss the topic immediately.

‘Nothing is the issue,’ she said. ‘We’re still solid.’

But it got worse.

She’d ignore my texts for days and cancel meetings. Our conversations became shorter with each passing one. We were everything but ‘solid’, but she refused to admit it. Eventually, she wouldn’t even have the conversation again.

Then he came along.

I scoff loudly and I apply pressure on the accelerator. The engine roars in protest but my car moves faster down the highway with renewed pace. It’s late at night and I’m driving on the outskirts of town.

Just the three of us; me, her and the wet road.

He would meet her at a coffee shop or diner, sometimes very late at night or in the middle of the day. I know this because I started to follow her everywhere she went.

They would drink and share jokes, holding hands and smiling, oblivious to my presence. She had a spark in her eyes whenever she was with him, and with me, all she had was excuses.

For him, it was small giggles and embarrassing blushes. For me, it was tight smiles and uncommitted shrugs.

I was losing my woman and it was a knife twist in my heart.

Months passed and she grew even more distant. I was growing desperate, so I planned a special date for us. My last-ditch attempt to salvage whatever was left of us.

It was a night picnic at a mountaintop spot with a nice view of the city. We’d talk about us, what our future held and we’d fix whatever problems we had. Then I would propose to her. Right there under the stars, and we’d begin our new chapter together.

I had it all thought out.

It was the perfect plan.

Then she cancelled.

‘So sorry… emergency shift to cover tnite. Rain check. xo’

I had stared at the text for what felt like an eternity, with a wine bottle in my hand and a hole in my heart.

I felt foolish.

Sad too, but mostly foolish.

I left the mountain with the food and wine and candles still set up and I drove straight to her apartment, furious and ready to demand explanations.

The sight broke something in me.

Her. Him. Tangled together in her bedsheets. Their passion was mixed with the unmistakable sound of desire as they moved in sync. Like their bodies were used to each other. All I could do was stand there and watch, too stunned to move.

They didn’t even notice me. Too lost in one another.

The thought of losing her to someone else was unbearable, but the image of her in another man’s arms is the greatest torment I have ever known.

I had tried my best to save us. To remind her of us. To revive us.

And there she was, her soul intertwined with another’s.

I felt a poison in my veins that night.

I look at her again, her body cold and lifeless.

You can’t torment me anymore.

I ease my foot off the accelerator as I get closer to my destination. Rocks and stones crunch under my tyres as I slowly drive across the mountain top. The road is uneven and bumpy and the body flops aggressively on the seat, only kept in place by the buckled belt.

For a long time, I wondered why you did it.

Was I the problem? Or, was it him? Was he a better man than I was? Did you just fall out of love? Why did you cheat and lie to me? How could you hurt me so badly? Why did I still love you after you hurt me so badly?

So many questions that you won’t get to answer.

I park my car and kill the engine. The rain has stopped pouring and is now drizzling at a steady pace. I come down from my car and walk back to open the trunk. I pull out a shovel and slam it close.

The sound vanishes into the night sky.

The moon is full tonight and it illuminates my path as I walk a few feet from the car. As expected, the wine and food and everything else I left here many months ago, are gone. One lucky hiker probably stumbled upon it and had himself a good treat.

Don’t worry, nobody will stumble on your body when it’s six feet below the ground.

I prod the ground with the shovel and it gives way easily. I’m grateful for the rain. I wipe the droplets from my face and I start to dig. Each stroke is more aggressive than the last and my bruised palms hurt like hell but I don’t stop.

Renewed anger rises in me as I remember the months after I caught you cheating.

You carried on like nothing happened. With the same distant, uninterested attitude. I know it happened more than twice and more than thrice and more than whatever comes after thrice. But there was no single shred of regret in your eyes for your continued infidelity.

I wanted to hate you so much. God knows I did. I tried so hard to, but I just couldn’t. My heart still burned with intense passion for you, despite it all.

I loved you. Wanted you. Needed you.

I just couldn’t bear the thought of you not being in my life.

Then you sent a text. Another text.

‘It’s over between us. I’ve moved on, suggest you do the same. Bye.’

And that was it.

We were together for more than five years and you ended it with a simple text, like we were nothing.

Like I meant nothing to you.

I was devastated. I tried to reach you by all means, but I couldn’t. You just vanished from my life.

Then I saw it on the internet. A picture. Announcing your wedding. This was a month ago. A month after you left me. I had searched tirelessly for you.

Desperate to see you and talk to you. Desperate for another chance. Desperate to keep you in my life.

And there you were, planning to get married to a man that wasn’t me.

Like I never existed. Like you never cared. Like you forgot about me already.

I couldn’t let it happen.

The rain is starting to ease when I stop digging and climb out of the hole. It’s a gaping hole in the ground. It’s poetic that your final resting place is dark and hollow like my heart was when you left me.

I drop the shovel on the ground and walk to the passenger seat. She’s still sitting there, as beautiful as ever. I kiss her forehead as I unhook the seatbelt and lift her out of the car. Her body feels heavy and my feet drag in the mud slightly.

I remember our final moments together as I carry you to your grave.

I had gotten the details for your pre-wedding dinner and nothing was going to stop me from attending. I just wanted to see you again. More than anything else. I took the long drive and waited outside the house till the dinner was over. I watched as you partied and jested with your friends and with him.

Then I followed you home and snuck into your house.

….

“The strap feels a bit tight here,” you say as you try on your wedding dress.

You turn around and freeze when you see that it is me that entered the room. The priceless shock on your face is extremely satisfying.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, then your eyes dart around. “Where is-”

“He’s fine,” I cut you off.

I’m annoyed that I’m right in front of you and he’s all you’re concerned about.

“You look good,” I say, admiring your gown. “So, it’s real. You’re getting married.”

I calmly walk further into the room and you back away from me.

“You left me,” I say, my voice breaking. “You just… left.”

You gulp slowly, your eyes frantically searching for a way to escape.

“You should go. Please,” you plead with me. You look so innocent, like an angel.

I walk closer to you.

There’s an emotion in your eyes. I hope that it’s guilt or regret, but it’s not.

It’s… fear.

“Why are you scared of me?” I ask as I rub your cheek. “What happened to us?”

“Please. Please go”

“You can’t marry him,” I say and grab your wrist. “You can’t leave me. Not for him. Not for anybody else. You can’t!”

Suddenly, you’re angry.

“You don’t own me!” you yell. “I can do whatever I want! I am getting married and you need to leave right now before I call the police!!”

But you are wrong.

I do own you and you are mine.

“You’re not going to do any of that. You’re coming with me.”

You snatch your wrist from my hand and try to run but I grab you. You hit and shove me, but I’m stronger than you so I hold you in place. I start to drag you out of the room but you hit me with your elbow and I’m dazed for a second.

I grab you by the neck and we scuffle for a bit before I push you to the bed and climb on top of you. You’re pinned below me, scratching and screaming, then I remember.

You and him.

All those months ago, in your bed.

You, moaning and panting. Him, grunting and owning you.

Owning what belongs to me.

He’s probably owned her in this bed too, the voice in my head says.

The thought sends me over the edge and everything comes rushing back.

Your lies. Your excuses. Your cheating. Your indifference. Your leaving,

I feel that poison in my veins again and my hands are on your neck.

Squeezing and clutching.

“You can’t leave me,” I say, my hands tightening around your throat.

You claw and struggle and I see that I’m hurting you.

I don’t want to hurt you, but I can’t leave you.

If I leave you, you’ll leave me again.

For him.

I squeeze even tighter.

“You are mine, not his. Mine.”

Your face is a myriad of emotions. Shock morphs into panic then desperation.

Then your resistance starts to weaken.

Then you are gone.

Gone.

It’s the only way I can make you stay.

….

That is the thought in my heart as I place her into the hole in the ground, flat on the soil and dirt. I pull out the ring that I wanted to propose to her with and place it on her chest.

I wait to feel some form of guilt or regret, but I don’t.

This is how it has to be.

It was the only way I could make her stay.

I pick up the shovel and start to cover the hole with dirt.

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This story was partly inspired by this hauntingly beautiful song. You can listen and read again to immerse yourself in the intended atmosphere.

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