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Rated: XGC · Short Story · Death · #1662113
She's mine...
I'm sitting in my car. I have a baseball bat in my hand. I watch cars pass me and wonder if they think anything odd of me. They don't know I have a bat, I'm sure. They probably think I'm just waiting to pick up my kid from the daycare.

My head is spinning. I don't know if this is the right way to go. Sure, she hurt me bad, but is it worth ruining my life? my family's lives? her family? Is it worth ending her life? After all, she has grown up, she's got a successful day care--I've seen pictures of her with those kids, and they sure look happy. I'd be taking her away from them. Of course, I wouldn't do it in front of them. I'd ask her if I could talk to her in private about a few issues, maybe pretend I'm the fire marshal or something. I'd do it in a back room. I couldn't let those little eyes see that.

Is it really worth it? I ask myself. What did she do to deserve this? Break my heart? Manipulate me? Drive me to tears and suicide attempts? Make me think I really found the one, the one I'd be with forever? Make me think I actually found someone not only halfway attractive, but worthy of being a swimsuit model? I really don't like to be superficial, but that sure didn't hurt. But we were young, she was fourteen, I was seventeen, we hadn't even really learned yet what love and companionship was yet. Especially her. My goodness was she a baby. Could I really hold someone who is now twenty-one responsible for what she did when she was fourteen?

Yes I can.

I get out of the car. I smoothly bring the bat to my side, coolly walking to the door. My heart jumps. I get the last second jitters. I push on. I grab the door handle, twist, push, hear the door creak its way to a slow but sure halt.

She's right in front of me.

My heart nearly pounds through my throat. She's so beautiful. That gorgeous dishwater blond hair, that slender, curvy body, that walk, those lips, those eyes...those green, glowing eyes that pierce right through your mind and lodge themselves directly in your soul. She looks up at me. She looks scared, but...not of me. I'm puzzled. Then I see it. She's counting money from her safe, her cash register, her wallet, anywhere she can get money. It all falls into place. Sure enough, just around the corner, I see a shiny thing in a hand. A man sitting in a chair on the other side of a wall. I see just enough of him from around the corner to get it.

I walk up to him and crack his skull. His body, minus a good portion of blood and brain matter, falls to the floor.

I hope there were no kids around for that, I think to myself. His body twitches. I must not have gotten his brain stem.

She's sitting in a chair, shaking, eyes bulging, no expression at all on her face. The money she had counted fell from her hands all over the floor. I stand still a moment. I realize I still have the bat in my hand. I wonder if she knows who I am. If she remembers me. I ask her.

"Do you know who I am?"

She continues to shake. "H-h-huh?"

I sigh. "Never mind."

I open my cell phone and call the police. Within days my name is all over the local papers, I'm given the keys to the city, the whole bit. I'm offered a monetary reward from her day care, which I politely refuse. While I'm talking to her, I ask her again, "You really don't remember me?"

She laughs, slightly nervous. "Honestly, can't say I do."

I nod my head. "Good." I get in my car and drive home.
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