Silky Despair (Lamb to the Slaughter)

After many, strenuous hours of standing, serving ungrateful, nasty customers and sweating in the mid-summer air, I return home to my city-view apartment. The lights glow like lanterns hanging from the ceiling, a gentle sway flows through the spacious apartment and the sun shines over the looming buildings that stretch far into the distance, disappearing over the horizon. The silky fabric of the lounger slides over my skin as I relax into the nooks of the seams. The locks on the door click as keys slowly turn the cogs. In steps my partner, looking just as beautiful as the day I met him. The glow of the sun shimmers in his pearly blue eyes and his dark, luscious hair falls loosely on his forehead, shaping the deep lines and perfected outline of his eyebrows. They’re more furrowed than they usually are and he looks at me with intent and reason. I notice the shift in the way he walks as he briskly heads to the kitchen sink, pouring himself a glass of water. He still doesn’t utter a word.

“How did work go?” I ask with the undertone of concern in my voice more apparent than I had hoped it would be. He glances in my direction ever so slightly before returning his gaze to the flowing water. 

“Fine.” He muttered, all the disgust he ever had, held in just one word. 

I had known something was bothering him for a while now, but I had hoped it wouldn’t turn out like this. The sun stopped shining in the modern-style windows that lined the west wall and lights began to flicker on from neighbouring skyscrapers. The silky fabric no longer felt so soft under my skin and instead I itched to get away from everything he had ever touched. The one-sided love that had been going on for too long caused a hatred that I had never had before. It bubbled up so much and I felt like I was going to burst if I let any out. A tear slipped from the inner corner of my eye and slowly traveled its way down the washed out skin of my cheek, leaving a trail of despair in its path, just as he had done. My once perfect make-up was washed off and dripping into the tiny stitches of my flowy blouse. It was over. He was gone and had left me in ruins, all because of another girl. There was no fixing the mistakes he had made, but I could fix the emotions that he had ripped raw out of the depths of my soul.