I don’t even remember how it all started. At this point, it really doesn’t matter! She kept making her decisions and I finally made mine! My pent-up frustration after all these years finally exploded and gave me the courage to do it!
Her small grey eyes stare straight past me as another teardrop escapes and make its way down the left side of her already tear-stained face. That same face that has never shown any emotion towards me, so why break the habit of a lifetime with crocodile tears now that it’s all over between us?
“It’s over Serena!” Those words sounded so sweet rolling over my tongue on their way to her incredulous ears. I look at that once beautiful face again and realise how much I grew to hate it passionately as the years rolled by.
The tone of her shrill voice sounds so far away now. “Cry me a river,” she would tease when I’d let my emotions get the better of me. She would wait until her hyena friends were gathered around us; her ready-made audience all dying to cackle at me yet again, as her taunting began. My tears would never flow to give them that satisfaction. She would have loved that. No. I’d always wait until her sick mind had finished torturing me. I would wait patiently until she’d laugh that wicked laugh as she walked away with her crown of pleasure at my humiliation, floating above her raven black hair as it flicked from side to side. That was my cue, my moment to smilingly disappear into the background to lick my wounds. How did she always manage to do that when people were around? How could she be so cruel with that terrible tongue wagging like a coyote’s tail; triumphant after it had made me appear a complete idiot for the umpteenth time? That same tongue which could also make me tremble hopelessly in rare moments of passion?
She is silent as I move up close to her face. I look into her dilated eyes and relish in her disbelief when I had told her it was over. I shiver with excitement at her cries when the knife plunged into that immaculately dressed body; slicing through yet barely touching her silky soft skin beneath. Then those eyes following the blade as it cut off the beautiful half of that wagging tongue; a trophy I would treasure for eternity. I can still taste her fear when she thought I was going to end her futile little life, but left her maimed instead. Hadn’t she reduced me to that already?
“Well Serena my dear,” I whisper into her bloodied ear, as I loosen the rope. “All’s fair in love and war! Now you can cry your own river!” I straighten her limp body and brush back her not-so-jet-black locks.
I squeeze her tongue tightly as I close the door behind me. I wonder what her ready-made audience would have to laugh about now?
Valli Henry-Boldini hails from London but now lives in Venice, Italy. She is an educator, translator and vocal coach. Her writing began at an early age with diaries, poetry, lyrics then non-fiction/fiction. She is currently trying to write her autobiography. Her writing has appeared in Woman’s Weekly (Print version), Taste of the Caribbean and 101 Words Org to name but a few.