13
496 Words
The day goes by slowly. I keep thinking about what he said.
You were my first...
His first. His first what? His first tragedy?
His first masterpiece? He ruined me. More than I was already ruined and that's saying something.
I head home. He'll probably be there sitting in the dark, waiting for me.
Oh well. I'll just deal with him. I open my doors I can smell him. Yes. He's here.
"Do you remember," he says lowly, "When I trained you to swim?"
I snort. "Trained ? You threw me in a river, and told me to swim or I was gonna drown."
He chuckles. "Well, you learned did you not? And it came in handy?"
"Mark 314. Threw me in a swimming pool, held me down."
He smiles, as I turn on the lights. "That was...one of the few times I was very harsh with you. But it saved your life."
That depends on what you call living.
"Why are you here?" I ask, taking off my suit jacket. "To reminisce? Do you need someone dead?"
He smiles. "Actually, I brought you this,"
I look at him. The violin.
"Remember? I got you this for your 22nd birthday. We'd been together almost two years then. It felt twenty to me."
"Do you remember how to play?" He asks.
I don't acknowledge him. "Do you remember every word of the song we first danced to?"
Oh here he goes.
"I do," He answers his own questions."
I snort. "It's in Latin!"
"You don't believe me?" He clears his throat. He's going to sing?
He opens his mouth.
He's going to sing.
Dies irae
Dies illa
Solvet saeclum en favilla
Teste davidcum sybilla
Quantus tremor est futurus
Quando judex est venturus
Cunta stricte discus surus
Dies irae
Dies illa
Solvet saeclum en favilla
Teste davidcum sybilla
Quantus tremor est futurus
Quando judex est venturus
Cuncta stricte discus surus
Quantus tre-e-mo-or e-est fu-u-turus
Dies irae, Dies illa
Quantus tre-e-mo-or e-est fu-u-turus
Dies irae,...
He has a low voice, melodious and deep. It's soothing to the soul. I always loved when he sang, though he rarely did.
I nod, taking off my shirt and pants. "Impressive."
He looks me over as I ignore him. This is my house, and I refuse to be uncomfortable.
"Just as beautiful as always, Maureen."
I snort. "King Scar," I drawl, "when will you give up?"
He stands, eyeing my body. "When you come home with me."
I look away. "And if I don't?"
"Then I will keep coming after you," he states sternly. "I will keep coming until you surrender."
"What is this war?"
He smile smally. "Yes. That's exactly what this. This is war, Maureen. And I won't stop until I achieve victory. Until I have your heart again."
"And I do not lose."
I huff. "War it is then, Scar."
He presses a kiss to my lips, echoing my word in a breathy exhale against my lips.
"War it is."
- Writer
