As the silence recoiled throughout the sea of obscurity, the creak of a door ripped it in half; soon following was heavy breathing, but breathing of fear – presumably.
"Gem?" Came a hushed masculine voice as the door slowly shut behind him, now there was only the dim glow from the street lights from outside which poured gently through the thin and – barely – transparent material that hung proudly over the window.
A scarcely visible figure appeared from the other side of the room, the owner of this shadowy stature seemed female with hair that was sticking up in all directions possible. "Jason?" Came a reply moments after. Yes, this was her – and there was no doubt about it.
The celebrity footballer just continued to make his way into the dark room before sitting down on the soft bed, on which the woman lied. They began to talk about what had been happening between them during the past couple of months, the things that may not have meant to be, but then they lost all sense of time.
The blonde-haired women draw back the black curtains, the sun shone through the translucent glass, lighting the room. She squinted her eyes through the sun's rays to see Jason walking away, back down the street, back to his house and (much to her displeasure) his wife.
Then, life continued as usual in the mornings; getting washed, dressed, doing her hair and applying make-up for another casual (and somewhat tedious) Tuesday at the flower shop on the corner of the street. Her name was Gemma Day, a twenty-five year old florist who had worked in her flower (named 'Buds') for four years.
One of her favourite costumers (and visitor of the night before) was the twenty-nine year old football superstar, Jason Joseph. He was – unfortunately – married to Jemima Joseph, who was one year younger than her husband. She had put up with the young admirers of him because there was no time for enquiries for divorce, she loved his celebrity status. Then there was the Personal Assistant who followed him around everywhere – Ruby Diamond, twenty-two years of age. She had been his PA for eighteen months; she enjoys the highly paid job and had been encountered as – on many occasions – attractive.
Descending down the stairs, she was greeted with the doorway of Buds, she entered, doing all the things that was on her morning agenda – changing the 'Sorry! We're closed!' signs to the welcoming 'We're open!' making sure her hair was tied back in the bun and tucked away neatly in the black net, putting on her emerald apron around her front. Yeah, she was ready for another day of slow business.
The silence that hung in the air around Jason Joseph and Ruby Diamond was not pleasant, if anything – it was becoming almost unbearable. Jason was the first to break the nothingness, "Rube, you mind if I tell you something… I mean something real important? So important, in fact, that no one can ever know."
Ruby was – somewhat – taken back by this, she tittered slightly, "wow, you trust you PA that much!?"
He managed a small laugh, but quickly sobered. "Well…" He began, "I've just got something on my mind, I need to tell someone."
She raised an eyebrow in curiosity, "okay, spill."
"You know my wife, right?"
"Do you know that girl at the florists?"
Slight hesitation. "Sorta."
A sigh, Ruby couldn't tell what the meaning was of the long exhale of air, but she could tell that he was nervous. "Look… Her name's Gemma…" He paused momentarily; she was anxiously for the rest of the sentence, though, it didn't come. "I really don't think I should tell you."
She furrowed her brow, "huh, why not? It ain't like I'm gonna tell anyone about this… you said no one can ever know."
He nodded, and added another sigh, although this time it was a shaky profound exhale, "affair."
She gasped, the idea suddenly clicking into place, "wait! You're having an affair with a girl from the florists!?"
He squeezed his eyes shut, "yes," he opened them again and looked around hurriedly checking to see if anyone had overheard their secretive conversation in the secluded area of the park, looking back at his personal assistant he hissed, "but try not to tell anyone."
Her mischievous smirk dropped into a look of sympathy, "Sorry, Jason. I couldn't help myself. But a florist!"
He cursed silently to himself, just as he thought; telling her was a bad idea.
A few days later, Jason walked through the front door of the – moderately – big house, he was greeted with his wife, she did not look happy. In fact, she looked absolutely distraught. "What's the matter with you?" He asked softly, bringing her into an embrace. She pushed away.
"No," she snapped, "what's the matter with you!?"
Dumbfounded, he took a step back, now he was under the only source of light during the dark night. Before he could say anything else, she had continued:
"Don't give me that look! You've been late for the past few weeks, what's been going on; you haven't been acting the same lately!"
"Don't give me that! I've been married to you for ten years!"
He clenched his hands in frustration, though, he did not know why. He knew that these fists of rage could do nothing, so instead; he just walked away and into the bedroom. Jemima frowned, looking to where he had gone, instead of following him; she picked up the phone and dialled a number.
A few moments past, then someone picked up, "hello?" Ruby.
"Okay, what's going on with Jason?"
There was a moment of nothing. "What do you mean?"
"He isn't been himself, now, what's going on at his work?" Jemima asked anger evident in her voice.
Before anymore words could be spoken, Ruby had hung up.
Jemima clicked her tongue in frustration before doing as she had done, glaring up the stairs, after a moment she followed in her spouses' footsteps. Then, an argument erupted.
"I'm warning you," Ruby notified the next morning, rubbing the palm of her hand on the leather seat of the car, "you need to call you and Gemma to an end, I don't think I can keep on lying to Jemima like I did last night."
Jason rolled his eyes with a sigh as he continued to twiddle his thumbs nervously. "I know, but it's easy for you to say! I can't do it, she'll tell the press, then Jemima'll find out." He shook his head with closed eyes, "I can see it now, 'Jason Joseph'…" There was a momentary silence. "I don't know, but I can see it!"
Ruby just frowned, a blank expression across her face, "I'm giving you a week. If you and Gemma are still an item by Monday, I'm telling Jemima, the media and I'll resign."
He was startled by this, drawing a sharp breath he said simply, "okay. Monday. Me. Gem. Over."
"Oh man," she exclaimed in disbelief, "you've got a pet name for her!"
He chuckled, but realised that this wasn't the time for trying to be merry, he bit his lip, "sorry, Rube, it just isn't as easy as it may seem. I'll try and try, but I can't guarantee any positive results."
"That isn't good enough, you are gonna split up by the first day of next week. Being a coward is no exception."
He bit down harder, he was digging himself a big hole of trouble, and it was only getting deeper, and he knew that soon, that it would be inescapable.
It was a cold Sunday night. Jason unsurely snuck into the flower shop run by Gemma, his hand snuck into the inside of his jacket. The florist turned round to face him with a small smile. "Hey, Jason, can I help you?" She asked her voice soft and soothing. He resented himself for doing such a thing, as much as he didn't want to, it was the only way and it was a necessary outcome; he knew he had to do such a thing.
"Nothing much…" He began, tightening his grasp on the metal item. "Just coming to see how you are. The usual."
Her beam grew. "That's cool," she continued to clean the desk. Jason knew that this was the time to do it.
As she turned around, he crept forward. His feet silent on the cold stone floor. The shadow grew closer upon the girl, he drew his hand from the light blue jacket and with one clear sweep of a crowbar against her head, she dropped down to the floor, hitting her head against the desk on the way down; at first glance you could come to the conclusion that she had died. Then, rummaging through the bag next to her cash register she found the tube of lipstick.
Through the night, a body of a twenty-five year old, blonde haired florist laid in the floor, injuries upon her head, then on the window the word 'goodbye' was sprawled: there for all to see.
Just a small story I had to do at school when working with Malcam (I can't spell his first name T.T) Rose. I think he kinda liked it ;.;