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Chapter One
I hate feeling like I’m fenced in because when you’re fenced in there’s no escape.
Mud walls.
Rocks.
A few sticks.
My tomb is a pit of hurt, agony, and betrayal.
It is cold.
And foreign.
It is a home without coziness and a welcome mat.
My final resting place.
Except…
I’m not dead yet.
I try to breathe, but the gash in my windpipe prevents me from doing so. I think about trying to scream, but even if I did or if I could, I know no one would hear me.
Gathering as much strength as I can muster up, I blink and roll my head to the side. It rests in between the top of my bicep and my shoulder blade and I blink again as I watch the crimson colored life flow out of me.
I am dying.
I am dying.
Love will be the death of me.
It came on in small doses.
Slowly.
With a knife, some force, and a few strangled breaths.
The sound of metal clinking against rocks throbs in my ears and I wince when Adam grunts and a shovel-full of cold, wet dirt lands on my stomach. My body convulses as the colds bleed through my clothes and seeps into my pores.
I keep thinking to myself; so this is how it ends?
This is how it ends?
I thought when a person dies they’re supposed to go out with a bang.
But no…
Not me.
I’m lying here alone.
In the middle of nowhere.
In a shallow, circular grave.
I’m bleeding.
I’m dying.
And my heart has been blown up into tiny, tattered pieces of confetti.
I swear I can feel Adam’s shadow blanket me with warmth as he hovers over me. I swear I can feel his moist lips against my neck and hear his deep, raspy voice whisper, “I love you.”
It’s a lie.
How dare he?
He’s a fabrication.
A walking, talking contradiction.
I know this now.
I wish I would have figured him out sooner.
I blame myself for not being able to see through the façade called his everyday life. I guess I’m paying for it now.
More than anything, I wish I could tell him, “Adam, my love, you were supposed to be my knight-in-shining-armor—not—my murderer.”
Chapter Two
Time…
Sometimes people think they I have so much of it.
They think they have so much of it so they waste it.
A minute here.
A minute there.
I’m one of those people. At least, I used to be. I used to think; well, there’s always tomorrow so don’t live for yesterday.
Now…
