Only he No one could save me from the travesty that awaited. I was a single passenger on a one-car train. Destination? Self destruction junction.
Oh, she tried. She really fucking did. Used to float to me every night like a dream. No… more like a whisper, chanting in my ear, sounding like an angel.
“You know what you need to do?” she would say.
“Yes,” I’d whisper back. “I know what I need to do. But it isn’t so easy. He loves me and I love him.”
And this is where the truth ended and the lies began. Because he didn’t really love me. And you see, I knew that. Knew it so fucking much. But it’s not the truth that keeps us going. It’s the lies that cover up the truth to make the truth look beautiful, alluring, irresistible. Like when you have a scar and instead of showing it, you paint it with permanent ink—a tattoo—stab it with needles thousands of times until that jagged indentation in your flesh looks like nothing more than a bright red heart, beating for the one you love. If you glance at that heart long enough, you’ll forget
the truth a scar rests underneath it all.
So I rode that train; rode it with fucking pleasure. Hell, it wasn’t the destination I cared about. It was the journey. He was the journey. The way his hands possessed me, his voice commanded me, his body controlled me. That was what I needed. That was the truth, the scar. And the tattoo lie that I put over that scar was the belief that he loved me.
My angel reminded me of that scar every night. And I got sick of it. So I wrapped plastic around her face until she suffocated. And once she was gone, I went back to him so he could possess me.
And then try to kill me.
Plastic Wrap Killer is a dark flash fiction, inspired by Dark Matter, now available on Amazon.
“Plastic Wrap Killer” Copyright 2016 Brittany Adams
Photograph courtesy of Vestal Magazine.