“Check for monsters,” she used to say. “In the cupboard. Under the bed.” It never occurred to her that the monster was the person checking.
Their lips pressed together like a miracle. She waited her entire life for this. She hasn’t any idea of the nightmare her life is to become.
His sweaty hands clicked the safety. Shaking, they pulled the trigger. Noise. Pain. Silence. Peace for him, but not his wife and children.
He has scars she can see and some she only feels. Distrust. Paranoia. And, on bad days, the back of his hand. They are both survivors.
He had existed for thousands of years; had been a doctor, a soldier, a teacher. A better man than I. In the end, I couldn’t drive the stake.
He. She. They. Bliss. Boredom. Betrayal. Court papers. Custody hearings. Canceled visitations. Restraining order. Father’s fury. Shotgun.