Fiction Friday #155

After a long hiatus from participating in Fiction Fridays, I’ve decided to start playing again. I didn’t quit for any reason in particular; just been busy and a lot of the topics really didn’t interest me. At any rate, this week’s Fiction Friday challenge is to include the phrase “I knew it was a mistake the moment it was over.” somewhere in the story. And this is what I came up with!

I miss my Jeremy – I really do. I miss the way he ran his fingers through my hair when I was sad; the way his palm gently brushed my ear, like I was being kissed by a butterfly. He had a way of making everything better when he caressed me like that. I miss the way he would look at me from across the room; they way he paid attention to me like I was the only woman in the world. He made me feel beautiful. I miss his laughter; the way his boisterous cackling made the room brighter and lifted peoples’ spirits. He was always the life of the party, wherever we went. If ever I was having a bad day, I would only have to hear his laughter and my world would become a happier place. I miss Jeremy’s body; the body gym rats long to have; the body all women desire; the body one gets paid to exhibit. Running my fingers over his stomach, feeling the washboard, turned me on like nothing else. What I miss the most though is the sex. The man made love to me in ways that would make Don Juan ask for lessons.
I know Jeremy loved me; loved me so much he killed for me. A couple years after Donnie Sunderland raped me, I made the off-handed comment that I wanted him dead. Little did I know Jeremy would actually do it. At the time, he seemed to have shrugged it off – he just held me close and whispered his love into my ear.
Jeremy wrote me from prison a few months ago. As much as I love him, living without him has been a living nightmare. I have tried – honestly I have – but being separated the way we are just doesn’t make for a very sound relationship. I sat down and wrote him; I wrote him long. I explained my position in the matter – I broke up with him – and mailed it. Letter after letter arrived after that. He wrote of things I never knew he could feel; the man I was reading wasn’t the same man I fell in love with all those years ago. In his last correspondence, he threw the cliché if I can’t have you, no one can routine. I never knew what darkness resided in the man until I read those last few letters.
I knew it was a mistake the moment it was over. Today I went to Karey’s Sporting Goods, bought a revolver, and enrolled in a training class. Jeremy gets paroled in six weeks. I fear he’s coming home.

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