1He held me in his arms, staring into my eyes and we were standing in a gazebo in the park under the stars, and he whispered to me quietly, "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, Amber. I love you so much. I want this to last forever."
It was that moment, when he said those words and kissed me that I knew I was hopelessly in love with him, and he was in love with me. But I was wrong, because he had lied.
He had lied about everything.
He had never really admitted it to me after we broke up, but I wasn't stupid. He had never had to say that he'd never loved me, because I already knew he hadn't. If he had loved me so much like he said he had, he wouldn't have done what he did. If he had loved me so much, he wouldn't have betrayed me in the worst possible way; fucking my best friend, a heartless, backstabbing slut.
I guess I should've known he was too good to be true, but I was in love, and I guess I was just clueless.
It the end of July and the night was warm, but breezy. It had been raining lightly on and off all day. It was just a typical summer day, except for this day would have marked me and Marc's one year anniversary. My close friends knew about this approaching date, and knew what it meant to me and how I had been dreading it, and had offered to take me out to get wasted, find me a hot guy, and forget about it all, about Marc and what we could have been, but I turned them down, because I had plans of my own, plans that were much more exciting and satisfying than that.
I was going to see Marc, after tens months of not speaking to him or seeing him. After the breakup, we had tried to be friends, but it hadn't worked out. He'd led me on and toyed with my emotions one too many times, just breaking my heart even more. I decided that cutting contact with the piece of shit and removing him from my life would be the best way to move on, and it was. But even so, I had never forgotten about him, or what he had done to me, and I knew that he had no remorse for his actions. He never did really understand just how much he hurt me, or how badly he broke my heart.
Well, tonight he would finally understand.
It was a quarter after midnight when I arrived at his apartment. It wasn't even a challenge getting inside, because I still had the key he had given me from when we were dating. Marc's shitty, run-down apartment had been like my second home. I was there more than I was home when we were together. When we broke up, I guess he had forgotten he had given me a key.
The apartment was dark and a filthy mess. There had obviously been a party recently because there was garbage everywhere and the entire place reeked of stale booze, weed, and sex, but I wasn't surprised. After the breakup, Marc went downhill, quitting his job, experimenting with hardcore drugs and picking up his old drinking habit, which he had tried to blame his cheating on me for. He had always told me I was the reason he had gotten his life back on track. I had always thought it was so funny that the minute I was gone, he fucked up his life again.
But I no longer cared about his life.
When I entered his numb, I felt numb. Everything looked the same as it had been when I had last been in it, except for a few new stupid movie posters on the wall and some new hoodies laying on the floor. Knowing Marc, he probably hadn't washed them in weeks. But the worst part about being in his room again was, to my shock, was that he had a picture of me and him on his wall. It was the first picture we had ever taken together. We'd taken it about two or three days after we'd starting going out, at a friend's house. In the picture we were kissing, and we looked so fucking happy. I looked so happy.
I swallowed hard, holding back tears that I forced back, and ripped that stupid fucking picture off the wall and threw it on the floor. I couldn't believe he still had it, and why did he have it on his wall?
But I hadn't come here to question his current actions, and I couldn't get emotional about shit.
I had a plan, and I was going to go through with it.
This pain that he'd caused me had to end, tonight.
Like it was nothing, I took off all my clothes and threw them onto his floor, laid on his bed and lit up a cigarette. Watching the smoke clouds and staring ahead into the dark, I wondered when he would be home.
About two hours later, Marc burst through the bedroom door, very visibly drunk, and maybe high, too. He was mumbling something about "that stupid bitch wasn't even that hot, and she had the nerve to call me an ugly creeper? Fuck that dumb whore" as he pulled off his Misfits t-shirt, that was one size too small for him. It wasn't until the dumbass flipped on the light that he realized that he wasn't the only one occupying his bedroom.
He screamed out, "Holy fucking shit! AMBER! What the fuck are you doing here? How the hell did you get in here?" He looked bewildered, pissed, and even a little excited all at the same time.
I smirked. "I guess you don't remember that night you gave me a key. Remember? You picked me up from my house because my father beat me up again, and you told me that you wanted me to have a key incase my father ever tried to pull that shit again, that I'd have a place to go."
Marc didn't say anything. He looked shocked and confused. Maybe he was shocked that I'd remembered what he'd told me, or maybe he was shocked that I still had his key. Or maybe it was both, I don't know.
"I want my key back. I can't believe you never gave it back to me. I mean—whatever, it's not creepy at all that you just busted into my apartment without calling or texting me, but seriously, uh, why are you here? And, why are you naked, in my bed?" There was a devilish smirk on his face. Oh, how cute, he thought he was going to get some.
"Do you know what today is, Marc?" I asked, and when he looked at me funny, I said, "It's the thirteenth. Today would've been our one year anniversary."
Marc bit his lip and scratched the top of his head. "Oh." Was all he said. "Um, is that what you came to tell me?" he laughed loudly. "You haven't talked to me in months, and out of the fucking blue you come to my apartment to tell me that? Amber, what's wrong with you? Listen, it's been a year…like…I've moved on…I'm a different person. Like, clearly I've moved on if I didn't even realize today we would've been together a year", he snapped harshly.
"Oh, you've moved on, really now? That's why you still have a picture of us on your wall?" I retorted angrily. "Don't bullshit me, Marc. I'm not stupid. I bet you still think of me when you fuck those butt ugly bitches at your pathetic friends' parties. Well, guess what? They'll never compare to me."
"Amber, what do you want?" Marc sighed after a brief silence, "I just don't know what you want me to say or do…"
"I just want you to shut the fuck up and come here and kiss me, damnit."
He looked rather surprised, and he was quite hesitant at first, and maybe it was just the fact that he was drunk or that deep down inside he really did miss me, but either way, he got onto the bed. He got on top of me and our lips met. I expected him to kiss me rough and sloppy, but he didn't. He kissed me soft and gentle at first, and then deeply and passionately. The next thing I knew I was taking off the rest of his clothes and he was fucking me like he always used to. The entire time though, I felt numb. It didn't feel real.
When it was all over, he looked me in the eyes and through his heavy breathing, he said, "I'm sorry."
"You're sorry?" I whispered angrily in disbelief, tears streaming down my face.
"I'm sorry for hurting you. I'm sorry for letting you go. I know it probably doesn't mean jack to you, but…I've never stopped regretting what I did to you, and I've never, ever stopped missing you", he said, wiping away my tears. I shuddered.
"You're not sorry. You're not sorry for cheating on me and you're not sorry for breaking my heart. Face it, Marc. You never loved me. If you had, you would have never done what you did! You'll never be able to understand that. All I've wanted since we broke up was for you to understand how what you did to me made me feel. Well, now I'm going to make you understand."
Marc looked confused. "What the fuck are you saying? You come here and seduce me, and now you're giving me shit? I told you I'm sorry. I've been saying sorry since we broke up. I can only say I'm sorry so many times, Amber. If I could take it back I would, but it happened. I did love you. You meant everything to me."
I laughed coldly. "See you in hell, Marc."
His eyes widened as I grabbed a knife from the floor which I had placed there; he hadn't even noticed, since he'd been too concerned about getting some ass. "Amber…don't…" he pleaded, which made me laugh even more. "That's what I said when you broke up with me. 'Marc, don't!' I sat there on the floor by your feet sobbing, telling you that I couldn't live without you, and what do you do? Sit there texting on your phone", I spat.
"Why are you doing this…why…now…" he quivered.
"Because", I smiled at him, "It's time that I steal back my love from you. You moved on along time ago, and it's time I do so, too!"
The last words he spoke before I violently stabbed him in the chest was, surprisingly, and to my shock, "I never stopped loving you, and that's the truth." As he was dying, he uttered one last sentence, a look of horror and sorrow on his face, "I'm s-s-orry for everything, and I wish I could take it back."
"Now you finally know how you made me feel, Marc", I whispered to his dead body, which lay in a pool of blood, "When you left me, you killed my heart and soul. You left me feeling dead. Now that you're gone, I can take my life back." I smiled at his corpse. I felt the weight of the world had been lifted off of my shoulders. I had just murdered someone, but I couldn't have cared less. I had no remorse and no regret. Marc deserved to die for what he did to me. I had killed him, and I was glad I had finally done it.
I put on my clothes which were stained with Marc's blood that had splattered all over from when I had stabbed him. Before I left the room, I leaned over his body and pressed my lips against his and kissed him, and whispered, "Happy anniversary, Marc", a smile on her face as she left the apartment.
She had finally moved on.
Killing him had healed her broken heart.
She was finally okay.