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Rated: 13+ · Draft · Death · #1383812
a man finds his girlfriend is cheating on him
I was cold in sweat hunched up against my cars rear quarter panel, sucking back the air the night had just stolen from me, and my thirteenth last cigarette. The sun was rising and I could see things more clearly, everything that once looked crisp and blue was now slowly turning to pinkish orange. The beauty almost wiped my mind, but one thing stuck in my head. The disgusting image of my girlfriends lips on that rich bastards cock.

Birds cawed, dogs barked, people emerged from their cosy homes and gawked in awe. I knew the police would be here any moment.

I take my last draw of tobacco, it was time to move. I climbed through the passenger window and slid across the front seat, through my ex girlfriends blood. But the blood was the least of my worries; my main concern was her body in the trunk. I knew if I went to fuel up the attendant would surely smell her rotting.

I could almost still hear her banging on the boot lid, screaming for release like a wild dog barking on the end of a chain. But even she knew that my trunk would be her most certain coffin. I drove for miles thinking about the times we had opening Christmas presents, going to the cinemas, watching her nieces run around, and dreaming of children of our own. Guess that’s not going to work out now that your rotting in my trunk pressed against my tyre jack.

I was entering near the shoreline when for some strange reason I cried; a single tear rolled down my cheek and it was followed by many.

I just couldn’t see my life without her; no house in the middle of the country, no kids running and playing with the dog, and no her to cuddle till I fell asleep.
No life. Why did she have to leave me for that bastard? I loved her so much, but I killed her in a jealous rage. So now I sit across a cliff face, watching the waves crash along the rocks below. “We will be together forever, bitch!” I scream, as me, my ex and my car plummet of the cliff face into the awaiting rocks below...
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