[Standalone] Heartbreak and Chloroform, Kill #3

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There's always something different going wrong
The path I walk's in the wrong direction
There's always someone fucking hanging on
Can anybody help me make things better?

How could I have missed that? I feel so stupid! Of course he has a girlfriend… He’s absolutely perfect in every way. I spent yesterday in tears because of it, because she’s one of the most vile people I have ever met. Vapid, loud and giggles at everything he says. He deserves better! Okay, granted, she is one of the most stunning girls at school, but she has all the personality of a plank of wood! It makes me so angry that he would date someone like her… I don’t know, maybe I’m over-reacting. He’ll come around… Surely? I mean, there’s only so many times a girl can giggle before it just becomes annoying. And she couldn’t hold a conversation about anything except her hair for more than twenty seconds without looking gormless.

They’re going out tonight. A first date or something. I heard them talking about it next to his locker. One of the clubs. Classy, I know. Going clubbing has got to be up there toward the top of ‘least romantic dates’ list. How is being drunk, hot and sweaty romantic in the slightest? First dates are meant to be special! Not just another night out… Not that I would know, Aurora’s the ‘party girl’. By which I mean she satiates her need for ‘justice’ by luring people to her there. Had to clean up one of her escapades last week. Blood everywhere. Absolutely disgusting. At least Kiera has the decency to make it artistic. Obviously not to the extent that I do it, but then, art’s always been my forte.



I saw him there. At that club. It broke my heart to see… Her… Grinding up against him… And him enjoying it. Laughing freely. He even kissed her. It hurts so much to write this. Even now I’m sobbing into the lock of hair I cut off his pretty little head while he was busy playing tonsil tennis with her over made-up mouth. Her in her skimpy, slutty outfit. Oh how I wish I was the one there, in his arms. Even in such a horribly unsuitable place. It tears me to pieces seeing him happy in someone elses arms, but hers? I’m filled with a rage that I’ve felt three times before. A hurt that I know all too well now. I don’t know what I hoped to accomplish tonight. Stealing him away? No, he’s not worth my love. I was foolish to give it to him, someone so obviously interested only in someone’s looks, not how they think, or speak. It’s worse than being shunned. He doesn’t even see me. But I’ll make him see me… I’ll be the last thing he ever sees.



It’s strange to think that only three weeks ago I first saw him standing there, looking all gorgeous and handsome and so very perfect. Just like Kaelen really. Perfect in his imperfections. He lives in a nice house too. He has everything, money, looks, he’s pretty smart as well. And he definitely has a way with words. I’ve heard him read poetry. For someone who can’t love, boy can he make you feel it with his voice. So melodic. So very compelling, rolling from his tongue, honeyed words written by another’s hand. I doubt he’s ever thought the things he reads so well. I mean, his room is just laden with so many typically male things. Sports trophies. Accolades from time in the training centres. Worst of all was his… Collection.

He’s one of those guys. He collects… Mementos from his female conquests. It made me want to vomit when I saw it, that I could ever give my heart so blindly to someone so repulsive that he takes the underwear of girls he’s dated. Maybe even slept with. My stomach convulses as I write this at the very thought. It wasn’t just one, or two, or even five. He has half a drawer full! Right next to his bed! With nothing else in it, what does he do, peruse them before he goes to sleep, losing himself in the pathetic memories of previous heartbroken girls. I’m glad she’s the one he’s using to satiate his desires on now, she deserves nothing better, nobody with a brain should ever be subjected to someone so perverted. I’m almost tearing holes through the page as I write. He seemed so charming… So nice… So friendly… More fool me.[/font][/size]

Your tears don't fall, they crash around me
Her conscience calls, the guilty to come home
Your tears don't fall, they crash around me
Her conscience calls, the guilty to come home

I know where he’ll be tomorrow. I wrote to him yesterday explaining that he should really stop collecting girls underwear, because it’s a filthy habit to get in to. Especially if he was going to keep them all in the same drawer. The look on his face was priceless, particularly because I put the note in his as-of-yesterday ex-girlfriends locker. Addressed to him. He replied of course. A very threatening reply, left exactly where I told him it would be. Right after she had slapped him in the face and stormed off in a huff. I wonder if I should have let her find out herself. All she’s ever done is sneer at me, and strut around with her ridiculously curvy body, tormenting boys left right and centre. Maybe they would have been a perfect match. The teasing harlot and the soulless pervert. Whatever, by tomorrow it won’t matter. I flooded the hockey pitch today as well, made sure practice was cancelled on him for tomorrow. He’ll be at home, parents will be out. Right where I want him.

He’s torn my heart out. Maybe not as bad as some of the others, but I was so ready to give myself utterly to him, and then I find out how sick he is. I think if people knew the darkness in everyone’s heart, people would be less judgmental of us Dempseys. Sure, we have something of bloodstained reputation, but since then, nothing’s been tied to us. We never helped Kaelen. We didn’t even know until he was leaving. Or at least, I didn’t. But maybe that’s because I was so smitten with him that I couldn’t see the blindingly obvious. Just like I couldn’t see this evil wretches true colours. Well, I see now. Clear as day. And he will know just how clearly I see his vile ways. And he will know exactly how we all feel when he discards us. He will know how I feel. Cold inside. The cold finality of death. Because when I found out about his… Habit… It felt like a part of me had died, murdered by his repulsive collection. Tomorrow it ends. Tomorrow I snuff him out, and maybe then I can let go of the hurt and betrayal…



It’s done. He’s dead. Got exactly what he deserved. It was beautiful too, so poetically just, the way he died. He knew my pain as the light left his eyes. I made sure of it. I think I might have to start from the top with it, it was just so… Perfect.

It took him twenty-seven minutes and thirty-eight second to walk to hockey practice, just like always. Only this time, he’d be coming back early, because the pitch was completely unusable. I found that time out last week when I followed him home. He never even noticed me. Why would he? I’m just the quiet girl in the corner with her sketchpad. Anyway, I let myself in (People should really invest in better locks for their doors. I mean, anyone could just break into their house…), and showed myself to the repulsive idiot’s room. It sickened me to even be in that room, but it pleased me to know exactly how this story was going to end.

It was all in the planning really. I had all the time in the world to pour every single on of those pairs of underwear over his bed. So many of them… Blues, pinks, purples, blacks, all manner of cuts, some more outrageously small than others. But just a pile of them is nothing. I rearranged them into a shape of a broken heart, just to get the message across into his head. It made me sob at the time, that I was so very nearly just another broken heart. But I had the wherewithal to make sure my hands were gloved. Didn’t want to leave any traces of my passing, now did I? The prospect of touching underwear he’d done ripred only knows what to, was not particularly appealing either.

I was still sobbing as I poured chloroform over a particularly racy red pair that I had bought yesterday. Since all he cared about was collecting girls lingerie, I thought it would be best that it would be the thing to end his life. Poetic justice. Choking to death upon the one thing you seemed to want the most. I’d put the liquid away just as he came in through the front. I came in through the back, so he wouldn’t notice the fact the door was unlocked. I can remember the adrenaline coursing through me as he ambled up the stairs, evidently frustrated he couldn’t satiate his need for ‘manly activity’ or whatever. Went straight up to his room. Never even saw me until I was smothering his mouth with that abominably slutty underwear he so desperately treasured. His first reaction when he walked in was confusion. Then outrage. Then fear. All turned to nothing as he fell unconscious.

He came to with my smiling face above him. I did say that I would make sure he knew my pain. And he did. Tears had rolled down my cheeks freely, and I proclaimed the love I once had. He was too terrified to move, unable to cry out, probably because I had a knife at his throat. Self-preservation is sometimes just so counter-productive. All he could do was shake his head. Face drained of blood. The last words he heard in this world were ’I loved you once. But no longer.’ Nothing flashy, nothing showy. Just a simple statement of truth. Fight before I jammed that which he loved so much into his mouth and covered his nose. He struggled then, but he was still groggy from the chloroform. Just as planned. His eyes were wide, struggling with animal ferocity to stay awake. To stay alive. I could feel his every heartbeat beginning to waver, slow, deprived of oxygen, his body shutting down. I watched every moment. Every beautiful moment of the revenge for the hurt he had caused me. That Kaelen had caused me, condensed into a single act of retribution. I watched the light leave his eyes, and the last vestige of love for him go with it, hand in hand.

I photographed it all, the scene I’d laid out. I’ll have to sort them all later, but I know I got some really good ones. There was absolutely no trace of me left. I’d never worn those things in my life, nor will I. They’ll just get put in the folder, so I never forget this moment. I can’t help but feel sad though, that I still, after all this time, cannot find love. Perhaps this cute looking guy I saw on the way back might be the one…[/font][/size]

The moments die, I hear no screaming
The visions left inside me are slowly fading
Would she hear me if I called her name?
Would she hold me if she knew my shame?

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