The Story of Blood and Roses

Was acting maturely so difficult? Couldn't I find it in myself to exorcise myself? I should have come to a conclusion by then. Either I could just end his life or I could tell him one final goodbye and leave the scene forever. Was it so difficult to be the better person and let him rot in his guilt and sadness?

The love I felt for him had turned to bitter that it tasted foul in my gut. My anger had left me long ago, but the memories of it kept me from doing anything. I couldn't kill him, no. I had wanted to, god, I had wanted to kill him with my bare hands all my life. But now I saw that I was such a child about all of it. I had done everything wrong. I thought that an experienced man such as him would truly fall for my petty plans to get revenge and I didn't have my eyes on the game. I had been lusting after him, putting him on a pedestal, both the good and the evil one, and I had brought it all on myself.

And he... he wasn't any better. If he would have handled the situation like a grownup, we wouldn't be on the cusp of killing each other every second we spent breathing in the same air.

And I admitted it.

It was unadulterated love that I felt for him; the savage experience of having shared it with him had decomposed it beyond recognition, but one could not deny that love was not the plight for all our misfortunes.

My metaphors make little sense to me, and I clutch on to my hair and I stumble over them, trying to understand if I should turn around, track him down and finally do it. Tell him that it is goodbye.

No. There would be no screaming. I hoped that there wouldn't at least.

Just as I had resolved to do it, I heard the unmistakable growl of the monster further away. An astonished smile spread across my face as I waited for it to come into view. When I did see it, I waited until I could see the flash of his eyes trained on me. And then I stepped on the pedal. The vehicle lurched forward under the force and tried to outdo the monster that was catching up.

I widened my eyes as I heard the loud clinking noise against the metal of the car.

Not again, I thought.

My eyes flew to his, accusing him of planning this. He must have found out, I tried to reason.

And I told him so.

"You fucking asshole!" I screamed at him as he pulled up beside me and kept pace.

His brows scrunched as he stared at my livid face.

"I died back there trying to get to you!" he screamed back.

"You set this up. Who is shooting at me?"

"Shoo-" he stopped suddenly. He ducked down, eyes scanning the rooftops. He came up again and then gave me one of those intense looks that used to excite me. It meant that there was going to be some action, preferably with guns involved. That time, though, it made me regret going out of my hideout. How had anyone found me? How had he known that I would be here?

That was when I saw that I was close to the hotel I was staying at.

I cursed under my breath.

"I didn't do this," he tried to explain. "I just saw you on the street and couldn't resist." My heart fluttered in my chest.

Oh, no.

My anguished monologue about lost love was cut short when the car went out of control. I swerved, bumping into his car and then swerved to the other side, before losing control completely. I felt the car come to a stop, jump and then thump back onto the ground. The stinging pain in my head kept me conscious. My breathing ragged as I tried to remain calm. They could not get me unless they could see me, which meant I could see them, too.

"Mia!" I heard his voice.

I let out a soft groan of pain, as I raised my head from the steering wheel and placed it on my forehead to see if there was any blood. Unfortunately, I could feel a knot growing under my fingers. My side of the door wrenched open. The gun that had been tucked into my boots was out in no time and pointed at the aggressor.

"Put that down," he commanded. "The fucker is still on the rooftop. I need to get you out of there."

"How do I know that you didn't do this on purpose?" I snapped.

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