Her eyes were wild with fury. Her fierce rage shined through the dark black circle of her pupil. Her tongue clicked her teeth rapidly. But these were the only signs of her anger.
The rest of her body remained calm. Her legs kept on holding her up. Her hands kept holding on to her books. Her chest kept rising and falling steadily with her breaths.
Her stout figure watched quietly through the window to the room she knew so well. She looked to the place where her pictures had been. Gone. She looked to the walls where the things she had drawn him had hung. Gone. She looked to the shelf where the scrapbooks she had labored over for him. Gone.
She looked to the bed where they had laid, where they had slept, where they had made love. It was there still, covered in the same quilt and pillows. But no longer did she lie across it with her lover. He was there. And beside him, there was a petite girl with blonde hair. God, why did she have to be a blonde? He was kissing her neck, just like he had kissed her own times before. He whispered, “I love you” like he had so many times before.
Her eyes danced, black flames in white cement. She continued to watch through the window. He placed his hands on her hips. She knew those hands. They had touched her so many times before. She was the first person they had ever touched sexually. He was her baby. She had introduced him to the sexual world, and she had fallen in love with him.
For nearly two years, they had been so in love. But they had been fighters towards the last few months. They couldn’t take it anymore, and they had broken up.
Even then, he had told her that he’d never love anyone as much as he loved her. That he’d never date anyone from their town because he loved her too much.
But those hands were telling her something different. They were telling her that all his love for her had been a lie. The hands slipped underneath the blonde girl’s skirt, and she watched as the blonde closed her eyes and tilted her head back in pleasure as the fingers under her skirt worked into regions he had only felt on her before.
She bit her lip then, to keep from crying out. The blonde girl licked hers and laid back on the bed. In a movement so familiar to her, he took off the blonde’s shirt and began to kiss her breasts like he had kissed her own. His kisses trailed down the blonde’s body, and he lifted the skirt to kiss even more.
Hot tears burned her cheeks as she watched the two of them. She turned and fled as his tongue explored the blonde’s most sacred places.
~~
Panting loudly, they reached their climax as her finger put the final pound of pressure on the trigger. He fell, sweaty, beside the blonde’s side as her body sagged and hit the floor.
He cried when they told him the news.