Plan B

Posted by Sherry Roit on Friday, December 22, 2017


She doesn't like it. Nope. 
As she watches the death throes of the creature by her left boot, her brain festers with all the rotten ideas she has for revenge.

Crunch, snap, pop pop, crackle, smush.
Silence. And good riddance, stupid thing. Too stupid to live. Just like him.

She folds her arms, still rocking her left heel. 
He isn't stupid. That the's problem A problem that puts a hitch in her many plans. That he isn't stupid is also a reason she fell for him.

Son of a bitch.
Smoosh. Smear. 

Twisting her heel, she scratches her nose at the same time. That scab. It's so irritating. It will probably leave a mark. Not cool Not cool at all.

She spins and walks toward the front of the building, her left boot leaving a macabre trail in her wake.

She stops. Tries not to pick the scab by her right ear.

"Asshole. Motherfucker." She bursts into tears. A hot flood of ugly, ugly tears and hiccuping breaths.

Her chest feels like it will cave in, and she feels faint, until the white hot spark of hate flares once more, and saves her from death by broken heart.

Betrayed? She'll show him betrayal. She'll show him what it means to love something so damned much that you can't breathe, and how it feels to lose that something, to find that something is a lie, a god damned dirty fucking lie, the worst kind of lie, such a...

Painful. 
She becomes silent with the stark realization that there is a gargantuan flaw in her plan.

He doesn't love anything.

Time for Plan B.




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Plan B

Posted by Sherry Roit on Friday, December 22, 2017


She doesn't like it. Nope. 
As she watches the death throes of the creature by her left boot, her brain festers with all the rotten ideas she has for revenge.

Crunch, snap, pop pop, crackle, smush.
Silence. And good riddance, stupid thing. Too stupid to live. Just like him.

She folds her arms, still rocking her left heel. 
He isn't stupid. That the's problem A problem that puts a hitch in her many plans. That he isn't stupid is also a reason she fell for him.

Son of a bitch.
Smoosh. Smear. 

Twisting her heel, she scratches her nose at the same time. That scab. It's so irritating. It will probably leave a mark. Not cool Not cool at all.

She spins and walks toward the front of the building, her left boot leaving a macabre trail in her wake.

She stops. Tries not to pick the scab by her right ear.

"Asshole. Motherfucker." She bursts into tears. A hot flood of ugly, ugly tears and hiccuping breaths.

Her chest feels like it will cave in, and she feels faint, until the white hot spark of hate flares once more, and saves her from death by broken heart.

Betrayed? She'll show him betrayal. She'll show him what it means to love something so damned much that you can't breathe, and how it feels to lose that something, to find that something is a lie, a god damned dirty fucking lie, the worst kind of lie, such a...

Painful. 
She becomes silent with the stark realization that there is a gargantuan flaw in her plan.

He doesn't love anything.

Time for Plan B.




blog comments powered by Disqus

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