Breaking Up.

Severe, that was all she could think. The way he left was just so hurtful. She had invested so much of herself, her time, her heart and her money. He used her and she felt so betrayed. She sat looking at the letter, tears streaming down her face.

“What a bastard,” she whispered to herself.

Every line of the letter ripped her apart. Old cliches used to lessen the blow. Was he such an idiot? Who wrote down “this hurts me more than it hurts you.” It was almost enough to make her chuckle, almost. She placed the letter down on the table, absently smoothing out the wrinkles made by her tense hands. Standing up she took 3 deep breaths, meant to calm.

She was with him for 6 years. He had gone through 7 business ventures, all failing miserably. Each one chiseled a piece of her savings down, until she had nothing left. That was when he decided to write the letter. She had been so wrong about him. She wanted to believe that he was different than everyone else in this world, but he wasn’t.

She lost friends because of him. Lost relationships with family members. All of these people close to her had warned her off this man. She was a woman in love and nothing would curb those feelings. Soon all she had was him, nothing else. Perhaps this is what he wanted, no interruptions to his schemes. She felt like a fool.

She wandered through the rooms of her house, looking at different items bought by her tormentor. She realized everything he had bought her she had bought herself. He had no money other than hers and that is what he used for these “thoughtful” gifts. She wandered up to a lovely Chinese vase. He had purchased this when they spent the day in China town last year. It turned out the lovely outing was an excuse to discuss business with an importer he had met on line.

She picked up the vase and threw it against the wall. It made a lovely loud crash as it exploded into hundreds of pieces. She was surprised at how much better she felt. She went to a frame of her and him, such stupid smiling faces. She threw it. It smashed and it felt good. Within a half an hour, there was quite a mess around the house as a result of her efforts to feel better. She wandered up the stairs to continue her therapy.

She had collapsed on the bed and slept. Now she slowly awoke to darkness. She didn’t remember falling asleep, but shock does work in funny ways. She made her way back to the kitchen. She didn’t turn on any lights; she knew the way and enough moonlight shined through the windows to illuminate her way a bit. It was still there, the letter. She sat in front of it. Tears started again, she felt then running down her cheeks.

The knives were still out, laid on the table waiting. She had had a difficult time picking the right one. She knew she shouldn’t let him get to her this way, but he did. She picked up a large knife, ran the flat cold of the blade against her cheek. It was large and could do a lot of damage quickly. In her other hand she held her razor sharp cleaver.

“Time to end this,” she said softly to no one.

She stood and steadied herself. The cleaver was left on the table. Her decision was made. The large carving knife was raised above her head. She brought it down fast; it dug deep into the flesh and hit bone. She waited for the pain, but it didn’t come. Maybe he was right. Maybe it did hurt him more than it hurt her. She picked up the cleaver and finished cutting off the arm of the man she once loved. He was too heavy to carry out in one piece. She had to break him up.

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paul, paulreesjones, reesjones and shortstprj