I feel the rope tightening around my neck. My nails digging into my skin trying to loosen it. You pull tighter. My breath becoming shallower and shallower. You don't care.
You did this.
You took me.
You tied me up.
Put me on display. Humiliated me. You whisper, "I'm sorry. This is the way it has to be." I shake my head.
Desperate for peace, relief.
Desperate for you to let me go.
I'm just a number. A figure in your well placed hidden plan. You move about the world with practiced ease. People kneel to you, people respect you. I respected you. You lead a life that most would love to have until they find out who you really are.
You're a monster. A monster that you keep concealed so well.
I trusted you. Trusted you to not hurt me.
You hurt me.
I believed you.
I believed that someone like you could never hurt someone like me. I guess you never truly know someone.
I can feel my body growing numb now. My will to fight is gone now.
You won now.
You always win.
My body slackens, my eyes closing. Before I drift to my peace, I feel the blade against my skin. A blade I know will be the last thing I feel. This I know for sure for you told me. Telling me you would watch my limp body almost to the peak of demise. Only then you would sliver your hate through my body, watching the crimson wetness stain the floor.
So delicate, like a flower, you wrap me in your arms and let the rope fall from around my neck.
I sigh in defeat. The closeness of my death so near I could taste it. A welcoming feeling.
Take me away from a man I loved and trusted.
Never to be reached again.
Never to feel again.
Copyright © by JL Long 2016
Writing the words that flow through my mind. I'm quirky, weird, and a bit opinionated. When I am not playing superwoman to my husband and kids, I am a writer. A writer of contemporary romance who likes to push the limits.