on wet pavement

his eyes were the first to betray the calm demeanor he was trying to convince her he possessed.






his eyes.





seemed like the devil himself had slithered beneath the rain-soaked cement, slipped into the soles of his $500 Prada shoes, inhabited his body, and now rested, quietly demented in his eyes.





those eyes told her feet to move. she couldn't though. she didn't.





she was frozen. stood still as if a statue had been erected and taken her place, the only sign of life the heavy tears forcing their way forward. for a split second she saw them like they used to be, smiles abounding, love filling their every pore.





was it possible for a six week relationship to have a 'used to be'?





for some, six weeks might have seemed far too short a time to have met, fell in love, become engaged and purchased a home, but for them it was as natural as the wind gently blowing through the trees.





he was perfect. any swoon-worthy quality a woman could dream up, he possessed. tall, handsome, sensitive, strong, attentive, very gainfully employed as a highly regarded FBI agent. and the sex. at the mere thought of their passionate bedroom acts, her brain would cue up that "Best I Ever Had" song by that Degrassi kid. although she wasn't sure if this was a testament to her fiance, or the fact that the song had been over-saturating every radio wave for the last month.





her friends had warned her of the possibles. maybe he was unstable. maybe he was already married. suggested she take her time, not accept a key to his home after seven days of knowing him. all pretending to be happy for her, and yet all secretly thinking that this just couldn't be real. they dubbed him Mr. Too Good To Be True.





haters.





his mouth was moving, angrily. she tried to hear him above the ire ringing in her ears, but only caught key words. bitch. hoe. triflin.





she heard those loudly. clearly. saw the spittle droplets fling forcefully from his bottom lip and become obscure on the wet ground. she looked down at her left hand. the diamond engagement ring shone against the lone streetlight, proving it was worthy of its $15,000 price tag.





her mouth curved into a nostalgic smile, as the day returned to her when he'd choked out the words "i want to marry you." he was so nervous that day. so full of love for her. so genuinely happy when she'd kissed his mouth and said yes. her smile curved a little more.



she looked back up at him, those eyes still telling her he was at the brink.





her own were cloudy. could barely see through the tears. she didn't bother looking down at her hand again, just kept her stare on his dilated pupils. those dark irises, glaring at her, daring her to make any sudden move.





she looked down at the spot on his waist where she knew his gun resided. the gun he had a legal right to carry wherever he went. the gun he wasn't supposed to have on him while intoxicated. she knew every nut, bolt and curve as if it were her own.





she thought about earlier that evening, when she'd suggested he leave his 'baby' at home. this was a celebratory night. he would be drunk before eleven. he'd laughed at her. he never went anywhere without it.





she smiled again.





"fuck you. and fuck this ring."





in one swift motion, she slipped the ring off and threw it with all her might, into the darkness of the parking lot. fuck him. the alcohol polluting her blood stream told her she meant it with everything inside her.





something snapped. broke loose. those eyes raged, turned dark.





the first blow found her face on the ground, the dirty pavement kissing up at her aggressively. she turned over, saw that familiar steel. saw those raging eyes. tried to close her's and envision a nice summer's day. didn't want those aphotic irises to be the last thing she saw.







she was too late.







she's so flyy: on wet pavement