Posted by Barbanne on September 21, 2003 at 16:15:17:
I am frightened.
When Alex comes home, will he be angry with me. He’s never been angry with me. Not truly angry. But I did something very foolish. Something I really regret. Oh God I wish I could take it back. It should never have happened. That bastard Gordon. Oh damn it. I’ve messed up. I might have known I’d mess up. It’s the story of my life.
Everything was all right until I came along.
How many times did I hear that.
“Everything was all right until you came along.”
It was because of me that my parents’ life went wrong. If I hadn’t been born. They said it again and again. “Everything was alright until you came along.” How could I forget. It was all my fault.
All my fault....................................
I lie in bed listening to them argue. They argue a lot. And when they do, they shout and say horrible things to each other and then Daddy hits Mummy and then they shout again and she screams and cries. I hate it when they fight. And then they go silent and I wait and I am frightened and I pretend I am asleep. And I hear him coming and I bury my face in the pillow and I hope he’ll go on by. But he doesn’t. He comes in. I lie very still and hope he thinks I am asleep. Then he shakes me.
“You’re not asleep. I know you’re not asleep.” I shake with fear and I know what’s coming and I hate it. “Barbara, Barbara, it’s all because of you, you know.”
“Everything was alright until you came along.”
“Don’t pretend you are asleep.”
“It’s all your fault Barbara, you know that. Your fault Barbara. Damn bitch!”
And then he drags the bedclothes off and hauls me up and starts hitting me and I can’t pretend any longer and start screaming, “Don’t hit me daddy, don’t hit me Daddy. Daddy don’t hit me...........please, pleeeeeeease, don’t hit me.........................”
But he does.
In the body, around the head, again and again. Until he gets tired. And I fall on the bed and I cry and cry and cry, drenching the pillow, until I can cry no more.
The next morning I get up. The door to their bedroom is shut. I shower and dress for school and make my breakfast. I hear Daddy being sick in the toilet. I go to their room and open the door and peek in. Mummy is lying face down on the bed and her bottom is bare and she is snoring. “Good bye Mummy” I say, but she doesn’t move, and he is still being sick, wretching up vomit. I skip off before he comes out.
I catch the bus to school. There are two other girls on the bus and I sit with them. When I get to school I see lots of other kids being dropped off, sometimes by their Daddys’, but mostly by their Mummys’, one or two have both Mummy and Daddy. And they all come in cars. I wish..................
The other kids see my cuts and bruises. They make fun of me. “Barbara, you’re so clumsy. Clumsy, clumsy Barbara. Hah, hah, hah!” I have bandaids over the cuts, but they don’t hide the bruises. The teachers look at my endless succession of cuts and bruises with a strange look on their faces. I am taken before the head teacher who asks how I got them. “Clumsy.” I tell him.
“Barbara, is there anything wrong. Anything you want to tell me?”
No-one would believe me and anyway it’s all my fault anyway.
It’s only when they are drinking that it’s bad. That’s most nights, but mostly they leave me alone, even when they argue. I go to my room and I read. I read anything I can get hold of. I discover a world of people who live in different times, who wear beautiful clothes, who don’t fight by bashing and abusing each other, only to right wrongs and protect beautiful girls. Girls I could never be. Girls with loving families and brothers and sisters and nice clothes and nice things and who find love.
Love is a concept I have difficulty with. I understand it to mean that people like each other so much that they only want to be with that person. All the time.
I wonder what it is like.
I like my book people so much I think that maybe I love them. They are so exciting. I like...............love my book people. I wish I could be like them. So much, so very much.
Then the bleeding starts. I wake up and my sheets are covered in blood. I am dying. I scream out and Mummy comes. “Oh Barbara, look at the mess you have made.”
Somehow this is all my fault too. I get used to it. I find out all girls suffer from it. But for me it is heavy and irregular. I never get over the embarrassment of ladies in shops saying to me “Dear, do you know you’ve got blood on the back of your clothes.” I hate when I pass out in shops and have to be helped up by strangers. I hate the days I have to spend lying on my back unable to go out. I don’t know anyone else quite like me. It’s obvious that it’s my fault I am this way.
Then it’s my thirteenth birthday. I have a new dress and I am going to have a party. Amazingly there are some girls who like me enough to come. They come with their parents. Mummy and Daddy have party food and drinks. Everybody has stuff. Mummy and Daddy stand with the other parents and have drinks. Lots of drinks. I watch them while I am at play with the other kids and I see the signs and I feel sick. Sick in my tummy. They get loud and then they get nasty and abusive. One by one the other kids are taken home. “Why did they go home, it’s all your fault Barbara.”
I am in such misery I don’t care. I just want to be left alone. I want to go back to the book people. But I can’t. He follows me and he keeps at me and at me. Finally he grabs me and my dress is torn.
I hate him. I hate him so much I lose myself in a black rage and strike out, pounding at him with my little fists. He is taken aback, but then he starts hitting me. Hitting me and hitting me. My rage evaporates and I just want him to stop.
“Stop hitting me, stop hitting me, Daddy, please........please DADDY!”
He keeps on and on and on.....................................................
I am with the book people and I am happy. But then they go away. I wake up and I am in a hospital room. I have been in them before. I have to pee, but I have things hooked into me. I ring the bell and a nurse comes and takes me to the bathroom. The mirrors have paper stuck over them. I have not seen that before when I have been. I ask the nurse why. “Oh” she says “Never you mind.” Its probably because of me.
Two policemen come and ask me questions. I fold my arms and hunch my shoulders and don’t want to answer. One comes back later with a lady policeman. She is kind and asks me questions about home and Mummy and Daddy. I talk to her. The nurses are kind too and soon I can get up and sit on the verandah in the sun. They bring me books and I love that. New books I haven’t read. I read them so fast I devour them. Then I read them again.
One day Auntie and Uncle come and bring my clothes and I go home with them. I never see Daddy again and it will be a long time before I see Mummy.
Auntie and Uncle are OK to live with. I get lots of my books from home and they have heaps more. They are very religious and talk about God and Jesus a lot and say prayers at grace before meals and make me go to church on Sundays. Personally I think God sucks from my experience of his world and don’t believe in any of it, but I go along, because they are good to me and don’t batter me, ever. Although once they do give me a hiding.
It’s when I am fourteen and I am playing with some other kids and we are being Star Wars’ guys. I am the evil empire as I am a girl and in their games the girls get to be the baddies. Anyway, three of them gang up and they laser me and Tanya and we fall down dead. Tanya lays down on her back and I hear her giggling a bit, but I die in spectacular fashion. I throw my arms up and I turn around and around and I roll my eyes up and arms and legs spread like I am reaching out to death, I fall down on my back and twitch and shake and then limp out like I have seen in the movies.
“Got ‘em” they say and they come over to where we are lying. “They’re dead.” says Richie, “We win.” Well Tanya, she can’t stop giggling and she gets up and joins them and they say. “C’mon Barbara.” But I lie there dead and out of the corner of my mouth I say “I’m dead, I can’t get up, you have to carry me away.” Well the three boys and Tanya they lift me up by the arms and legs and carry me off and I’m really liking this. A funny feeling spreads through me and I feel all helpless and I want them to touch me. After a while they get sick of it and put me down and I’m still dead. “C’mon Barbara.” they say “Let’s go.” But I hiss out of my mouth, “No, you killed me now you gotta search me.” Well they say “Agh, ‘nough Barbara, we’re going home” and they go except Richie and he is like searching me half heartedly, but I like his touch on me and I get his hand and put it on my pants. He runs off too, so I come back to life and later Auntie tells me Richie’s mother has told her I made him touch my pants and they tell me that’s really bad and God wouldn’t like that and I get whupped on the backside. But it’s not like a beating. Not like before.
I really like school and I do well. Living with Auntie and Uncle is a bit boring and so I wear mini skirts that are like a half a tea towel and a crop top that shows my tummy and they go tut, tut and cluck and warn me that men will desire me and I had better be careful, etc. etc. I don’t really want men, I just like wearing a half a tea towel and showing my tum and besides I know it makes them go spare when I do. I don’t mean to be cruel, but I want to be me. I finish my HSC and do well and get accepted for University where I enrol in Arts.
I go out with the other kids, especially Tanya and Leanne and we go to rave parties, but I hate all the drinking and the drugs some of the other kids do. One night, Janelle gets really legless and then she takes an ecstasy tab and dances up a storm and we find her doubled up in the ladies loo and she’s out to it and we can’t wake her up and someone calls an ambulance and they call the cops and Janelle goes to hospital where she nearly dies, from dehydration and overheating they say. The cops ask us all lots of questions and everyone lies their head off and I decide, drinking and stuff is for feebs.
My Arts course is like learning about my book people and I love it and I do really well and I’m almost happy for once.
While I am growing up I find that my fantasies about being dead are growing more frequent and more vivid and I find little references to this in my books and every time I do it really excites me. I’m reading a Paul Theroux book about train journeys and he describes a visit to a Japanese club where films of girls fighting nude and oiled are transposed with live action on the stage in a presentation called “Oil Kill” and it ends when the girl on the screen and the girl on the stage both kill the girl they are fighting with and the two murderesses stand triumphant over the corpses of their victims and I can’t hide my excitement at reading this. I strip off and lie on the floor and imagine I am the victim and my oiled body is being dragged out while an incredibly beautiful, naked, oiled lady stands triumphant and disdainful. I masturbate to this fantasy, my hand alone moving on my otherwise limp body and when I come it is just the most exciting thing that has happened to me.
In my final year at Uni, I leave Auntie and Uncle’s home and move into a flat with Tanya and Leanne. We talk about boys and sex a lot and I tell them my fantasy. First they laugh and then they say that’s sick and tell me I am wierd (which I agree with) and then they agree to try it out, but they don’t like it and say it makes them uncomfortable, so I drop it with them. But they do agree to pose “dead” for me. I have a Minolta camera that I have been given by Auntie and Uncle and I am right into portraits and flowers. I photograph Tanya and Leanne playing dead, each on their own and then together. When they see the pics they agree that they look pretty sexy, but they think it’s wierd and they don’t really feel good or comfortable, so I decide I will have to stay a lone “dead” fantasist.
I am going out with lots of guys from Uni and one I feel I can trust enough and I explain my fantasy to him and he assents to us playing, but when I am doing my dead bit I must have turned him on so much that he loses it and practically rapes me which is much too physical. I analyse dead play in my mind and decide that what it’s about is about me surrendering control to my partner and letting him use me. But he must be gentle and use me so that I can fully fantasise while his hands are on me and then its just a beautiful way of having sex.
I despair that I will have to keep this fantasy for me alone.
Then I meet Alex.
He is a beautiful man. He’s a big guy, much bigger than me and he wears sort of conventional clothes, lots of browns and greys, but he always looks really smart and co-ordinated. He’s got red hair cut short in a brush cut and he has a mustache that’s nearly blonde and he wears round wire framed glasses that make him look studious and he’s very handsome. He’s got lovely penetrating blue eyes, so have I, and I begin to fantasise about blue eyed children.
I first see him at a book launch. I take my own glasses off, hoping he hasn’t seen them and make my way over to where I hope he will notice me.
He’s talking to some other people and isn’t aware of this little shiela trying to make him see her. I have to go for the direct approach. I wait until he is on his own for a moment and then I sashay over and confront him. He is about thirty centimetres taller than me, so this is not like eye to eye. “Hello,” I say, “My name is Barbara.”
“Mmmmnnn, hello.” He looks down at me.
“Did you enjoy the talk?” I ask about the author we have just listened to. He wasn’t very good at all.
“No, I thought he was pretentious.”
We are away to a great start. He is honest and not up himself like half the rest of the people here. He introduces himself, his name is Alex and we talk for a good half hour. I like him. I like him a lot.
I decide to give him a chance.
“Well, I’ve got to run for a bus. It’s a nuisance, but I’ll miss it if I don’t go now.”
Offer to drive me home, Alex.
“Oh, OK, if you’ve got to.”
Shit, not good Alex.
“Will I see you again?” Shameless Barbara, but this could be my only chance.
“Give me your number, I’d love to go on with our discussion again later.”
“Ergh, yes OK.” He gives me a phone number.
Whoopee, got it.
He is a reserved sort of a guy and I try again and again to get him to date me, but without much success. I’m at the stage where I have decided to go to his house and stand naked in the middle of his lounge room to see what result that gets me when he rings and asks me to dinner.
I wear a little red dress, not too formal, can be worn high collar or off the shoulder, I wear it off the shoulder, and it has a hemline that’s way above my knees. I accessorise with the best I’ve got and lash on the seductive perfume.
It’s a hit. We’re launched.
We start going out regularly and I work at Alex. He is everything I thought he would be, intelligent, sensitive, caring and really good fun to be with, if somewhat reserved. We share a common love of reading and writing and it gives rise to many really great discussions. I make a point of hugging him and kissing him and grab his hand whenever we are out so that he has to walk hand in hand with me. He is a little reticent so I make the running. The disparity in our sizes makes us definitely the odd couple to look at, but we are really well suited to each other and our physical appearance matters little.
We have kissed and cuddled on dates and I decide it’s time we had sex. We come home from a movie date to my flat which is empty except for me. I have seen to that, hunting the other two girls off for the night. I kick off my shoes and make coffee for us and serve it in the lounge. Alex has made himself comfortable, he has been here often enough to treat it as familiar. I excuse myself and go to the bedroom and do a quick strip and put on a satin gown. When I come back, I notice his eyes widen a bit, but as much as I can tell, and I feel I can read him now, he approves. We drink our coffee and relive the best parts of the film. I work my way over until I am just about on top of him and then I lean over and kiss him. He responds, a little tentatively and I wonder if he knows what I have in mind. I put my arms around him and kiss him deeply and lastingly. He kisses back and I love his mustache on my skin.
I slip his jacket off his shoulders and he shucks it off. I unbutton his shirt and slip my hand inside and rub it on his chest.
So far, so good.
We cuddle and kiss some and then I take his hand and guide it inside my robe, which is falling open, and place it around my naked breast. I hear the quick intake of breath and whisper in his ear.
“It’s yours darling, I want my breasts to be yours, I want to feel your hands on them, stroking them, fondling them. Only you darling.”
He is warming to his task and I let my sash give way and my robe fall open all the way down. I take his hand and guide it down my tummy and say “Touch me, touch me all over, Oh Alex I want you so much.”
“But you’re overdressed.”
I stand, robe hanging shamelessly open and taking his hand lead him into the bedroom. I stand then kneel in front of him and help him out of his shirt, his vest, unzip his trousers and pull them down and then his jocks. Now I am overdressed, so I slip my robe and let it fall to the floor. Embracing him I pull him down onto the bed. I place his hands on my breasts and kiss him, changing to licking and sucking. I can feel his erection, which I was pleased to see when I slipped off his jocks, growing against my tum. Neither of us is a world expert on love making, so I roll onto my back and pull him onto me. I feel deliciously squashed and, as he seems to be having a little trouble, I reach down and guide him inside me. I start to move under him and he responds and before too long he explodes inside me. It’s beautiful because he is beautiful and I now understand what love means, because I love Alex.
But I think it could have been better. I fantasise that I am dead under him and I know that would make it better. I don’t want to shock him so I decide I will have to tread carefully.
Established as lovers, it isn’t too long before we move in together. I have finished Uni and have my degree. I have found a job in a library and love it lots. I cook for Alex and care for him and love him so much I even wash and iron for him. I like cooking a lot and take pride in preparing meals for him. No-one could like washing and ironing sucks, but I’m so much in love I do it. I know what love means now because I have found it and I have fallen big time.
Our love making is great, but I know with my fantasy it could transcend great.
One day I say to Alex, “Darling, will you give me a body massage, I feel I would love that?” He agrees with a little hesitation and in no time flat I have the body oil out and I am stretched out starkers on my back and I ask him to massage me all over top to toe, head to foot. He starts rubbing me tentatively and I limp out like I am dead in my mind and just give him little suggestions now and again as to where to go and what to do. I am hoping that the experience of handling and rubbing my naked inert body will get him started in the right direction and from the way he warms to the task I feel my strategy is working.
Having interested Alex in the idea that we can have really rewarding sex with me being passive and submissive and him taking advantage of that, I feel that I have to keep taking him down that road. I collapse against him when we are embracing and pretend to have gone unconscious, I find he likes this feeling that I am limp and helpless and he can handle me how he wants. I respond to his handling insofar as unconscious girls can, and moan and groan as he brings me “to”. We both find this leads to great sex when we eventually stop playing and couple energetically. It certainly turns me right on and he finds that it is pushing his buttons.
While we are cuddling in a post coital embrace and enjoying the sense of warmth and loving tenderness that that brings, I whisper to him my feelings for extending our love play to include the idea that I will be “dead” and he will find me and then he may take me and use me how he wishes. He laughs at the thought but is intrigued.
Then one evening I tell him to give me five minutes and then come into the bedroom and I will have prepared a treat for him. Fascinated, he nods agreement and off I go to get dead for him. I leave my underwear on, but pull my stockings down around my ankles and my panties down to where they are hanging off my hips and push my bra up to reveal one breast bare, then I throw myself across the bed, on my back and let my head hang over one side, eyes closed, mouth gaping open. I spread my legs as much as my rucked panties allow and find this makes me feel very erotically sexy. I fling out my arms, hands palm up, fingers curled and wait. After five minutes he comes in and I hear him stop and suck in his breath. Then, darling man, he knows what I am playing at and says, “Oh shit, she’s dead, but I know what she wanted.” and he comes across and starts to play with my body. He kisses my closed eyelids and strokes my face and touches my lips so gently, just pulling them apart and then letting go. He unhooks my bra and takes it off and discards it and plays with my nipples which have greeted him with a little salute and are standing to attention.
It is beautiful and my body tingles around the nipples and the vagina, all of which are aching with that soft sweet ache of desire. He kisses me all over and runs his lips down my skin causing electric waves of desire to course through me. He strips off my stockings and panties and then kisses me between the thighs on that so sensitive area and I almost groan with my lust. But I have croaked my last and so must lie here his to use.
“Poor little girl.” he says.
“Poor little dead girl.”
Then he lifts me under the shoulders and I let him place my inert body in the centre of the bed. I am limping out like never before. Then he kisses me again and I feel him settle on me and then the hard beautiful meat of his cock slides into my well lubricated pussy and he starts to move. I move only to let my limp body respond to him and he brings us both to climax in the most unbelievable orgasm I have ever experienced and I lose it and cry out with sheer delight as I come, my whole body spasming with pleasure. Afterwards I feel so weak, I can only lie on the bed panting in utter exhaustion.
We both agree that was one hell of a fantasy sex game and must be repeated as soon as R and R has restored us.
We do repeat the game, and we improvise and change it, often, as the first time, he comes in and finds me dead, but at other times he catches and kills me first. I whimper and groan and give out death rattles during these games and we both find it an enormous turn on and the resulting sex that it always leads to gets better and better.
I love him so much, that I devote my days to his happiness and he repays me with kindness, love and consideration.
How I love Alex.
I am still dreaming of blue eyed children and take no precautions, but nothing happens. After a time, I talk to Alex about it and he agrees that another little Barb would be nice. I want a daughter so that I can treat her to so much love, that she can have my childhood, we will share it together. Of course if we have an Alex that will be OK too, although I tell my lover that if he takes after his dad size wise, he will nearly bust his mum.
Eventually, I see a doctor. He mutters some and sends me to a gyno. He in turn admits me to a hospital, where they dress me in a cotton smock, the sort that ties at the back, get me on my back, hook up my feet in stirrups that elevate my legs quite undignifidely, and then he invites everyone, it seems to me, to come and peer between my legs. Then he says “This won’t cause you much discomfort, just relax.” and procedes to insert something the size and coldness of a kitchen sink inside me. (Got news for you doc.............it did). They let me go home and I go back to see him a day or two later and get told that I will never have children.
Hysterectomy is foreshadowed.
I should have known. I’m just no good.
About this time I lose my job.
Not my fault, my library merges with another. I can’t find work. The economy is bad. I do finally get a job waitressing. It’s something. I have to dress in a dumb uniform that just covers my ass and part of the job description I missed seems to be that every drunk can have a grope of me.
I love Alex so much it hurts.
He loves me too. I tell him to get someone else, someone useful. He just holds me and kisses me and I don’t know why I have been blessed with this beautiful man. I cry myself to sleep a lot.
Our love making stays fantastic and I know he loves dead play as much as I do. Sometimes my misery dampens my inventiveness, but I give it my all for him.
And so I come to tonight.
I didn’t want to go to the damn party. I hate parties built around drink. It was predictable and I knew that bloody Gordon was looking me over. He married Janelle, the ecstasy survivor. She isn’t much better now and still manages to get legless.
I go to the loo, which is on the upper level and when I am walking back, Gordon grabs me and drags me into a bedroom. He is drunk and saying stupid things, how much he loves me, always has, shit like that. I tell him to piss off, but he throws me on the bed and he’s all over me. I yell at him, “Leave me alone, Gordon.” but his drunkenness makes him stupid and brutal. He doesn’t or won’t listen to me and he forces me down on to the bed. He is pawing at my clothes and I struggle and say “Please Gordon, don’t do this, please leave me. Gordon I don’t want this. Let me go!” My voice rises to a shout and I am twisting and turning to get away. He pushes me down roughly and hisses “Bitch, bitch, fucking sexy little bitch..................Alex’s bitch!” I really struggle now and scratch his face. “Let...me....go.” He becomes really nasty and his face screws up and he hits me in the side of the head. Whether it’s with his open hand or his fist, I’m not sure but it’s so hard I am stunned. I’ve heard of seeing stars, but this is a Hubble telescope panorama of the galaxy.
I am hurt and I am out of it. I feel him pulling my dress open and pushing my bra up. I can’t do anything, I am still trying to gather my wits. His rough, dirty hands are pushing my skirt up and pulling at my panties. He gets them down near my knees. I am having trouble believing this, my head won’t come clear and it’s like I know what’s happening but can’t do anything to stop it. Then he is inside me and I find I am crying, tears running down my cheeks, and it’s over, and he has squirted his filthy seed in me and I feel so shamed and disgusted with myself. I am still very dazed and look up to see Alex in the doorway and he turns away and I feel like filth. I wan’t to run after him, but Gordon is still fumbling drunkenly with me and I hear him say. “Fuckin’ bitch, there you are. Bet that was the best you had.” He staggers up off me and pulls up his trousers and goes. I lie sobbing on the bed.
I feel so ashamed.
Again it is my fault.
Oh Alex, what must you think.
I am disgusting.
I hate myself.
I get up and pull my panties up and rearrange my frock. It is torn and the buttons are missing. I pull it together and go downstairs. My mascara has run and my face is a mess. Alex is nowhere. People look at me, and one or two make as if to come to me, but I run out and hail a cab. I ask him to drive me home, but on the way I get him to stop at Auntie’s. They are surprised to see me and I make some excuse to use the bathroom. I get the bottle of sleeping pills I know Auntie uses and slip them in my bag. I come on home.
And here I am.
Alex isn’t home.
I have failed him.
I knew it would turn out this way.
It’s all my fault.
I write the note and leave it by the lamp.
I take off all my torn and ruined clothes and dump them. Then I shower, scrubbing myself until I am clean. I put perfume between my breasts and make up my face.
Funny that the first lot of pills I take will be my last.
I suppose I should take the lot. Probably only need a few. I swallow a fistful and wash them down. It takes me three goes to get them all down.
I lie on the bed and fold my arms over my breasts. My mind is fading already. I hate the feeling. So lethargic and so confused.
I hope I won’t pee myself or puke.
God I can’t see, even though I think my eyes are open.
I’m sorry Alex.
You should have met a decent girl, a useful girl. I’m so sorry Alex.
I’m no good, just a walking disaster.
But it’s all my fault.
Alex was furious.
When he had seen Gordon all over Barbara, he had not known what to think. Confused he had wandered for a while, but then when Janelle told him what Gordon had done to Barbara, his valve blew, and going around there he had beaten Gordon to within a whisker. Janelle assured him he’d be OK. After all she and Alex were the only witnesses to seeing Gordon fall down the stairs and anyway, she told him, she’d be filing for divorce from the bastard tomorrow.
He drove into his home drive.
There were a couple of lights on.
He locked the car and went to the door. It was locked and fumbling for his key, he opened it and went inside.
“Barb.........” He called.
“Barb, are you home?” Funny, by now she would usually be all over him like a happy little puppy.
He walked through the house, looking into rooms.
In their bedroom he found her.
Lying on the bed.
Her left arm was crossed over her chest, hand cupping her right breast. her right arm had fallen down and hung limply off the bed. Her hips had twisted sideways in her final moment of life. White crusty dried residue framed her slightly open mouth. Her eyes were closed.
He crossed to the bedside.
Felt for a pulse, neck, wrist, nothing.
No chest movement.
She was dead.
He lifted her dead body and cradled her in his arms, her head lying against his chest. For a long time he just sat.
He saw the envelope.
Lying her back he opened it and read.
“My darling, my beloved,
I have failed you.
I am just not worth your time
or your love.
Please take me one last time
and then I want you to take
my poor mortal remains and
cast them into the sea.
Please do this for me.
I want it to be as if I never was.
I am worthless of a man as beautiful as you.
Please, please, my love do this I beg you.
Then find happiness with another.
Remember me with kindness.
I love you so much I must remove myself
from your life.
I was never much good.
It’s all my fault.
For a long time he sat with her.
Then, he laid her out. How pretty she looked and he moved onto her body and they coupled for the last time. She was still just warm and he found the love she gave him, even from beyond the grave, ecstatic and beautiful.
He wrapped her in a blanket and carried her to his car.
He placed her carefully inside and drove to the cliffs.
He parked and then carried her to the edge.
He removed the blanket and lifting her cold naked dead body above his head cast her out and over. She spun in mid flight, arms and legs windmilling. Then she hit the cold black waves and sank immediately without a splash.
He lifted the blanket to his face and smelt her smell.
With tears in his eyes he got back in the car and drove slowly home.