I Had To

Devon Gluck

Blood splattered the walls and steadily dripped onto the old wooden floor. Her hands were tied high above her head with a rope and fastened to a hook on the ceiling. Her body hung limp; the rope swayed it back and forth. I couldn’t stand to look at her face anymore. Dead. She was finally dead. A burlap bag sat in the corner of the dimly lit room. I picked it up, my blood-stained hands still shaking, and placed it over her head. I couldn’t bear to look at her face anymore.

I did it. I killed her. It had to be done. She had to die… She would’ve turned us in; we would’ve never seen each other again. I couldn’t be without him. Oh God, I killed her. I killed her. I killed her. It had to be done. I had to do it.

I clutched my hands to my head, my fingers weaving through my hair and against my scalp. I could feel her blood in my hair; it was still warm. Oh God. Squeezing my eyes shut, my body began to tremble, and the tears fell silently down my cheeks. My body sank to the floor and I drew my knees into my chest. The door opened and Mark walked in; he stared at the lifeless body that hung from the rope. Everything went silent, and Mark’s face went pale. The sound of the door closing broke the silence. I jumped up and wiped the tears off my face.

“Mark, I had to do it.”

“I know,” he whispers.

Stepping closer to him, “She was going to ruin everything. I couldn’t let her. I can’t be without you.”

I began to cry. Mark’s hand were now cupping my blood-smeared face while his thumbs gently wiped away the blood and tears that trailed down it. He lifted my chin up and I gazed into his warm, familiar hazel eyes. Mark kissed my forehead and moved his lips down to my nose then to my chin; finally placing his lips on my own trembling lips. We kissed slowly as I wrapped my arms around his neck, my fingertips grabbing onto his hair. The kiss became deeper and Mark tightened his grip on my waist. He began to kiss my neck, my ears, my breasts. Our searching hands tugged at one another’s clothes. He tore off my stained and sweaty shirt as I unbuckled his dirt-stained pants. We sank to the floor, our bodies’ tangled together, moving as one; the pleasure rupturing through both of us.

“I love you,” I whispered into his ear.

He kissed my forehead, “And I love you.”

I sat up, and looked at my surroundings. We had a lot to clean up; there was blood everywhere: on the walls, on the floor and smeared on our bodies. My eyes wandered to her; her head hung low. The bag covered her face, but I could feel her watching us, watching me.