I wish I could say I put a lot of thought into your death, when I was going to do it, how I was going to do it, but I didn’t. I’m not sure I exactly remember when I knew I was going to kill you, it wasn’t a conscious decision, I just sort of knew.
I think it was the first time we made love, interlocked as one. I knew then that your death would be on my hands. I hated you; I loved you, and I had no idea why. It was an itching in the back of my mind. I wanted to harm you and caress you at the same time. The worst part about it was you knew it too, and you know it now.
I was in the kitchen when I knew what I would kill you with. You were standing next to me, your short black hair a shaggy mess framing your face with your favorite gray shirt hanging off your shoulders as you chopped up the carrots. You were beautiful, but the knife in your hands was even more beautiful, the kitchen light glinting off of it as you brought it up and down. I knew then that the knife in your hands would be your end, and as you looked up at me, your eyes following where my gaze was, you knew too.
Now as I stand in front of our bathroom mirror, the knife in my hand, I find I like how it looks. The way the knife reflects the room around me, adding an edge to my college uniform look. My eyes are blank, cold to what is about to happen. I should feel something, but I don’t. I’ve had years to come to terms with this. What I knew would happen, what you knew would happen, and now I’m ready.
I don’t move from my position in front of the mirror until I hear you come home from work. I know I will be caught and sentenced to death for the murder of a detective, but the fear of death has long since passed. We both knew this would happen; that there was nothing we could do to stop it, for we loved, love, each other too much to part. Even though both of our lives will come to an end because of this love, we are too selfish to give it up.
You call out to me from the living room, and I know the time has come. I move slowly, carefully, towards your voice. As I walk into the living room I put forth no effort to hide the knife. I carry it at my side. When you see it, you smile, for you too have come to terms with this fate.
I smile back at you, a loving smile, for I do love you. You come to me and kiss my mouth. It is passionate, filled with love and I kiss back. It was then that I knew exactly what to do. I put my arm around your back and pull you closer to me, the tip of the knife sliding in effortlessly. You gasp, and I take the initiative to deepen the kiss. After a brief pause of shock, you kiss back.
We stand there kissing, the knife imbedded in your abdomen, the blood running down your body, staining the carpet and my hand with red. I then pull it back out and push it back in. Another gasp escapes your mouth, but you continue kissing. I continue this motion until you can no longer kiss me or stand.
I gently lay you down, cradling your body in my left arm. Blood now stains my clothes, but I do not pay attention for you are much more beautiful. The crimson of the blood a beautiful contrast with your ivory white skin. Blood has seeped from your smiling mouth, and I kiss you once again. This time I pull away for I feel your mouth moving, attempting to say something. I wait patiently for you to form the words and smile when you say, “I-I… l-l-lo-love you… m-my Li-Light…”
“I love you too, my beautiful, beautiful Elle.” I kiss her one more time, pouring all the love I feel for her into that one kiss, and as I pull away I bring the knife across her throat. Blood rushes out, staining her skin crimson. As the life leaves her body, I think how beautiful she looks covered in her own blood.
I set her down carefully and pull out my cell phone. I knew I could get away with this, set it up to make it look like somebody else had murdered her, I am a genius after all, but I don’t want to. I knew I wouldn’t want to, and I turn myself in.
I’m still sitting by her when the cops arrive, the knife still in my hand, and my clothes still covered in blood. They point their guns at me, and I set the knife down next to her. I stand and they attack like mad dogs let loose on a cat. As I’m dragged away, I look back at her and say the last thing I will ever say to her, “You’re beautiful Elle. Beautiful.”

unpublished work © 2008 Raine
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