Because I Love You

You are wearing your makeup differently today.

It’s subtle, I can barely see the extra blush on your cheeks from across the street. I wonder why you did it. Are you going to meet someone? A man? Did you do it for me? I bet you did it for me. You do love to impress me, even though you look beautiful without makeup. That one time I came to your house late at night because we hadn’t spoken all day, you didn’t have on any at the time. It makes me wish that you never wore any every day. But I know you love wearing it, and I love you, so I won’t ever tell you that you shouldn’t wear it. Besides, being one of the few people that have seen you like that makes me feel so wonderful.

I hate when you talk to other men. Am I not good enough for you? I used to be. We used to talk all the time. And you were so nice to me, always polite, always pleasant. Why do you even want to talk to them? I’m sure they don’t care about you like I do, and definitely don’t love you like I do. It frustrates me you won’t talk to me first anymore, and I get so angry when you tell people about me. They just don’t understand. I’m looking after you is all, trying to be the best friend you can have. Because I love you.

I walk a bit behind you on your way to work. I got fired from there after you told everyone about how much I was caring for you. I wish I still had a job there so I could watch you work, the way you bite your lip when you’re thinking hard. Now I work across town, and I’m on my way to being fired because I walk you to work everyday to make sure you’re okay, which makes me late most days. But its worth it. All of it. Because I love you.

I don’t speak to you in the mornings because once you told me you are too tired in the mornings to talk. I talk to you in the afternoon almost every day though, so I can ask you how work was and who talked to you. We never have enough time to talk though, enough time for me to be around you. I like talking to you in person because many times I can smell the hints of the green apple shampoo in your hair. Sometimes though you don’t want to talk so I respect your space and walk a few steps behind you. Because I love you.

I think you are beginning to avoid me now, though. You spend more and more time at work, or at home, where I can’t make sure you’re okay. I don’t understand why you don’t laugh like you used to. It makes me sad that you are so sad now. I wish you would let me help you, so I could care for you the way I should be. I know I could make you much happier than any other so-called man could. Because I love you.

Sometimes I wonder what you would say to me if I actually talked to you.

Your Sweet Assassin


Trust Me

The ground was hard underneath her. Bits of hay poked her through her jeans. One of her legs was bloody and swollen from where she had been shot earlier in her thigh. The cloth was soaked through and stuck to the wound. Her hands were tied behind her waist. The barbed wire bit into her wrists and a trail of blood ran down into her palm and gathered there. Her knuckles were torn and bloody; they stung every time they brushed the ground.

She used the heels of her boots to push herself the last inch towards the wall. She felt gently for the edge of the busted pipe she knew would be behind her. She started to saw at the wire, but the more pressure she put, the harder the barbs dug into her already tender skin. A tear rolled down her cheek, tracing a path through the grit and dust on her face. She gritted her teeth and forced herself to keep cutting until she felt it give. She brought her hands in front of her, and she bit her lip when she saw the damage she had done. She patiently pried the points out of her skin before trying to slowly get to her feet. She started to crumple when she put weight on her leg. She backed against the wall, breathing hard. Before she caught her breath the door opened.

A woman in a floor-length Victorian-style dress sailed into the room, looking extremely out of place in the dirty, run down barn she had found herself in. Her hair had a certain amount of wild appeal to it, not elegantly placed, but gave her clear face an intense effect. Eyebrows arched perfectly over dark eyes, so dark that they looked almost black. The woman smiled sweetly before offering her arm to the injured girl. Hesitant and distrustful as she was, the girl refused.

The smile subtly changed to a smirk before the woman spun on her heel and began to walk out of the room. She stopped before she had gone too far, and reached into the folds of her dress. She pulled out a dagger, gazing almost lovingly at it while she ran her thumbs along the edge. “You know darling,” she said softly, “it didn’t have to be this way. Next time I see you, honestly you should trust me a little more.” The corners of her mouth lifted on the last words.

She threw the dagger.

It connected with a thud in the girls chest and stuck. Blood immediately covered her chest and she slid down the wall. Her vision clouded and her eyelids drooped. As she watched the blurred form of the woman walk out the door, her eyes locked on the objects floating down from the rafters. Blood gurgled from her throat into her mouth as she tried to name them.

Rose petals.

Your Sweet Assassin

I Didn’t Know


“I love you,” he says quietly as I hang up. I say what, but I’m already talking to dead air. I sit there in shock. Was I supposed to hear that? Did I even hear that? What if he said something else and I’m freaking out over nothing? I was so confused; my world felt like it was spinning out of control.

The rushing sound in my ears got louder. I swayed on my feet as I walked to the kitchen and threw out my arms to steady myself. I reached out to the countertop and locked my elbows so I wouldn’t hit my head on the counter if I passed out. My breath sounded ragged and alien in my mouth. I felt distant from my body, and I blinked over and over to try to get rid of the clouds in my head. I turned around slowly until I felt the hard granite countertop behind me.

I slid down carefully until I touched the cool tile under my hands. I tucked my legs to my chest and wrapped my arms around myself. I rested my head on my knees and closed my eyes. It felt like someone had thrown me to the ground and knocked the wind out of my lungs. I couldn’t catch my breath for the world.


“I love you,” I say quietly after I think she’s hung up. But now is when I hear the sound the phone call ending. I breathed a sigh of relief, how glad I was that she didn’t know my true feelings. I was happy being her friend, but I wanted so much more. Not knowing how she’d react made me fearful of telling her the truth. I sat down on the floor, mind full of possible ways she’d react.

“No, you aren’t mature enough, serious enough, tall enough.” I closed my eyes, trying to block out the fears. But how great would that be? To have her, hold her, for her to be mine. No more jealousy attacks, no more panic about whether some guy would swoop in and take her away. I loved her smile, her laugh, and being the reason for both, and I loved how smart she was, and bright, and talking to her in the evening.

“But no, ” I told myself, “you can’t. Don’t ruin what you have. She’s your best friend.” I stood up and got some water. I stared at the glass for a moment when it hit me. The dial didn’t sound until just after I said those powerful words. I started breathing faster, my heart pounding. “She heard it,” I thought to myself as sweat started to trickle down the back of my neck, “She heard it and won’t talk to me again.” I paused, “But… I wonder if she loves me too?”

“No,” I said to myself, “She likes other guys. Why else would she talk about them so much?” I sat down, staring at the empty glass thinking over and over, “Did she hear me or not?”

That single question stayed, filling my mind until early morning, keeping me from sleep.

Your Sweet Assassin