A Woman Scorned

She looked down at the bloody heart she held in her hand. What happened? She looked at him, his eyes wide. He knew what happened. The shock of it all paralyzed him. The truth of it all shone through his eyes. What a strange turn of events. The proof of it all still bleeding, beating, pumping upon her palm. Pretty soon the passing out would present itself a problem…for the both of them. Suddenly, she stopped to think, and found herself feeling guilty. There would be a multitude of questions once the police arrived. How could she have done this? What reason could one have for ripping out a heart? Why hadn’t she thought of the consequences of her actions? “Love makes you do the wacky,” was the only response that came to her. But this wasn’t “wacky.” This was sick, a waste of a life worth living. She looked at her soon-to-be-former-lover as wet and watery tears filled and flowed forth from his eyes, dripping delicately down his face. Losing a life once loved was worth such a show. And so she stared, straight into the blue pools that reflected an image of herself. Why was this lasting so long? She leaned over and kissed him though it pained her. “I loved you,” she murmured. “You gave me your heart.” She pulled out his hand and smiled a sad smile. “Now I give you mine.” With those last words death overtook her as guilt gripped his heart. It was all over, and he felt the fool for not using his heart, for losing is cruel.