Her Lover

Based on a famous poem except without the same ending as the poem.

Waiting for her, he lay on the sofa. His long legs stretched out in front of him as he stared motionless at the door, waiting for the time when she would walk through. His hands were tightly clasped together in a sense of something like anxiousness, but also with anger.

The old cottage roofing just held up against the raging storm outside and the rain fell like rocks. He looked upwards at the almost shaking ceiling, knowing that this racket would drown out any other noise that may occur later on, if the storm held up.

Suddenly, he snapped out of his trance as the front door was flung open by a young woman. Slamming it behind her, she smiled slightly at the man, who grinned back falsely.

Taking the hat she wore off, her blonde hair tumbled down her back gracefully and she stepped out of her raincoat to hang it on the stand beside her.

That beautiful smile not leaving her face, she approached him and he stood. They embraced each other like a husband and wife would... or like a wife and her lover.

No words were said as he clasped her delicate hand in his and lay back down onto the sofa, pulling her with him. She looked into his eyes seductively and her smile grew. Pushing down the sleeve of her top, her smooth shoulder was completely bare, as she enticed him.

Rolling over, she lay on top of him and kissed his neck passionately but he made no moves.

Looking into his eyes deeply and for the last time, he knew she loved him utterly. This was the way it was supposed to be. She would come home and they would be as husband and wife should be, but not in this case.

He knew there was something different about her lately. He had found she had got herself another lover. One younger, one fitter than he himself.

But this would all stop soon.

So very soon.

She relaxed and lay back down beside him and sighed, though still expressed tenderness towards him as they lay.

All of a sudden, a thought struck her. Had he found out? Her blue eyes went wide at the notion and she caught her breath. Before she had the chance to look up at him again, she felt him moving beneath her.

His hands came up to her face, and he gently caressed her cheek as she leant into his hand.

Her golden hair had been strewn across his chest and he gathered it all in his left hand, while his other continued stroking her cheek.

He knows, she thought desperately. If it were to get out, the whole family would be shunned. Shunned by society was something that she didn't think she could handle.

So it was in her favour that he began to wrap her long hair around her neck and she realised. He was going to kill her. He smiled devilishly and whispered one word to her as he slowly pulled on the hair around her fragile neck.

"Yes."

He made her know that he had known. This was how much it hurt him to know she was loving another man. Gasping for air though not struggling, she died.

She was his. Of this he was certain and he wouldn't let anyone take that away. If she wouldn't be his, then she would be nobody's. But he knew in those precious moments that she loved him with all her heart, no matter how much she had told the other man she had loved him so too.

Her eyelids were shut and he frowned. His trembling fingers pushed back the lids and he beamed, seeing those blue eyes he adored so much.

She was still laying on him in the morning. They had lain there all night and he had been watching her. His own dark eyes traced every line in her face, every curve on her body until a single tear made its way down his cheek.

What have I done?

The End

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