The Woman

         They sat across from one another as the fading light from broken windows danced across the disheveled room. It swayed across the faded red rug, and between the curls of sunbleached, peeling wallpaper. It bounced throughout this forgotten place, trying to illuminate long-hidden secrets and regrets. He gazed into her hazy, sunken eyes with an intensity unknown to most of man. His eyes roamed across her bloated, white face. Her hair, once vibrant and shapely, now rested in sparse, knocked patches atop her head. He'd always loved her hair, he dreamed of it each night, wanting only to run his fingers through it for the rest of his life. He didn't care that with each passing day her hair fell out in larger clumps and that with each day that passed he didn't care it was becoming more muted. He especially didn't care about the smell that was radiating from her body these last 2 weeks. Oh no, this woman was the love of his life, he knew it down to his very core. He still sometimes heard her voice whispering into his ear as he succumbed to the oblivion of sleep. It was only in these moments of night that the words were sweet, for once daylight flared into existence, only mocking words escaped from her mouth.
         It made him bitter, resentful that she could do such a thing to him. For he saved her, gave her the world she has now. He ignored the imperfections that were spreading throughout her body, ignored it all for her. Even while her lips peeled back and her velvet-like skin became wrinkled and thin, he loved her. In his moments of reflection, he heard her faintly whisper in her angel-like voice words that made his blood boil.
         " I don't know why you say these things dear, I really don't." He whispered through clenched teeth, "I've given you everything you have today and yet you still act disrespectful".
         She just looked at him blankly, her mouth hanging limply open. This only made him angrier.
         "Answer me! Don't just look at me like that!" He screamed hoarsely.
         His fingers began to clench down on the armrests of his chair, his fingers beginning to ache as the strength he used increased. She just kept sitting there, gazing at him with those hazy, vacant grey eyes. He fought the urge to spit and curse at her but his anger kept boiling the longer she sat there motionless.
         "I saved you off of those streets, loved you when no one else did, I made you the princess you are now," He snarled at her.
         There was a moment of silence between the two, the air seemed charged with electricity. It was in that mute moment that the man snapped, lurching forward and latched his hands like cuffs around her arms. He began to violently shake the woman, her body snapping back and forth with a sickening sound. With each motion, the stench of blight became more intense and suffocating. He roared in her face, not caring as spit clung to her flesh. Her head just continued to swing limply. The man screamed again, throwing the woman fiercely back into the chair she originally resided in. She landed in a slumped heap against her seat.
         The man was breathing heavily, his shoulders hunching forward in an unnatural manner. His forehead was shiny with sweat and his hair was a disheveled mess. His chest was heaving aggressively as looked at the woman with his deranged eyes. Then just as suddenly the anger came, it was gone, replaced with a hallow pit in his stomach. The man began to sob uncontrollably, his cries echoing throughout the room. He crumbled onto his knees, pressing his face against the woman's knees. He grabbed her hand, stroking her blackened fingers.
         "You know I didn't be that, right princess?" He murmured, watching as his tears began to hit the floor in a hypnotic fashion.
         "All I've ever wanted was to protect you, to give you the sun," the man raises his gaze up to the woman's face, "you were made for me, I don't think I could live if anyone took you away from me."
         His sobs began to pick up again, filling the empty space with sorrow. His cries were guttural, with each tear that fell he felt like he was losing part of himself. It was during his cries and howls for forgiveness that the blue and red lights illuminated the room. His cries were so consuming he didn't even process the heavy banging on the doors and windows or the screams from unknown men with guns ready in their hands. He only realized his undoing when he felt that cold metal of a barrel find its resting place against his head.