A Death Punished

Her

Through the haze of pain from my wounded chest pressing against the unyielding ground, I am aware of other things. The wet leaves covering the forest ground are sticking to my cheek. I can taste the wet dirt in my mouth as I fight for every breath I take. Every gasp brings fresh tears to my eyes, knowing that each time I exhale means I die a little more. I inhale again and for that second I am relieved that I’m not dead yet. The sticky wetness I feel on my chest is not from the leaves, though. It is my own blood.

How long have I been in the woods now, my life seeping away from me with every beat of my heart? Full night has fallen and I can’t make out a single tree, the foliage so thick not even the moonbeams can penetrate it. The rain though finds its way between the branches and I am soaked through and my body has cooled to the point of numbness, or is that the blood loss? I welcome the numbness. Anything but the agonizing pain. I blink back a fresh wave of tears, and focus on anything but my life ebbing away.

I don’t want to die. No one ever does, I suppose. But I’m holding onto life with every fiber of my being, afraid to even move an inch for fear of wasting the little bit of energy my body needs to keep going. Oh, but I am angry. I know how I came to be in the woods, dying alone like an animal. I know who is to blame. For an instant I forget to catch that next breath of life as fury overtakes me. My body jerks and instead of exhaling, I cough up blood. When I finally can take in air again, my body is trembling, and the metallic taste of my own blood lingers in my mouth. From the rasping sound of my breath and the fiery pain in my chest I understand one of my lungs has collapsed. The hope of being found and saved long ago vanished, but thoughts of vengeance have sustained me for hours; I dwell on imagining my hands wrapping around the bastard’s neck as I squeeze his life from him. My killer shouldn’t get to go on living happily ever after. Not while I lie rotting on the dirt in a godforsaken forest never to be found.

His face is alive in my mind, just as he looked when his hunting knife plunged into my chest, the mixed feelings of horror, relief, and anger bared in his hazel eyes. Even as I collapsed in front of him, his name on my lips, he was unmoved. His accusations manufactured by her to take him away, hearing him say her name with such reverence...all was a fresh wound added to the mortal one he had inflicted. When he removed the blade, my blood stained his jeans and he cursed. By the time I fell face down upon the wet leaves, he was already walking away.

In the eerie silence, I make out the gentle lapping of water nearby. A lake, very close. Close enough I can smell the sweet, fresh waters; how different it is from the rainwater permeating every surface. I thirst for it. It overwhelms me and I force my eyes to focus, to seek the water that may take away the coppery taste from my tongue.

There!

A glimmer of light above the quiet surface of the lake becomes my beacon and, after many hours, I finally attempt to move. I shudder as my cold, numb fingers dig into the ground for purchase. The soft, wet earth gives easily into the pressure and I’m able to crawl painfully towards the water’s edge, leaving a trail of my life’s blood and crushed leaves behind. The splash my hand makes as it dips into the water is one of the most satisfying sounds I remember ever hearing, and I cup a handful and bring it to my parched, stained lips. I drink, choke, cough and repeat. After three sips, I am exhausted and lay my head back down, my long hair slipping into the lake currents. My hand, still in the water, is slowly being buried in the sandy bottom, a gentle tugging as if inviting me to submerge entirely into the lake and die there instead of on the hard ground. I resist with life still in me, as weak as it might be. And my hatred is too strong to let it go, to go in peace and without fighting.

To end like this, to know that three years of loving him, being the muse to his music, could all end with my death at his hands. All because of lies concocted by a manipulative woman and his own weakness in resisting her. This time no tears flow; instead a long, piercing cry shatters the silence. A scream filled with my hate and pain, the two overwhelming feelings that have ridden me in the last moments of my life. As my voice finally fails me, so does my heart.

One.

Two.

Three beats and I am no more.

My eyes lose focus as I stare away over the waters, breathing isn’t a concern anymore. But my hands are clenched into fists and I am far from dying peacefully.

**************

Him

This is madness. I traipse through the woods. The sun disappeared quickly over the unseen horizon, darkening the forest at an unnerving speed. My eyes can hardly adjust at this speed, and I’m stumbling more often than I care to count. I am amazed, though. I seem to find my way back to that wretched spot without much of a problem, though I curse once more at the idiocy of this. How could I have let her convince me to come back?

“Check to make sure she is dead,” she had said. As if there were any doubts about it. My hand itches with the memory of the knife handle, splatters of her blood wetting between my fingers and making them sticky.

I stop for a moment, gathering my wits. The last thing I need is to get lost simply because I’m not paying attention to where I’m going. Through the gathering darkness I can see the overgrown path I took two days earlier with her in tow.

Remorse was slowly creeping up on me. That it was so easy to stab her, to kill her as I did was slightly unnerving. For three years I’d been with her, keeping her close to me as my own heavenly muse. She inspired me to write and compose the most marvelous music, and not once that I could remember did our arguments grow out of proportion. Thinking about it, I’d never truly been angered by her...not until just a couple of months ago, when lyrics stopped flowing as easily from my fingers. Then she came into the picture.

Doubt and frustration start creeping in. I keep on walking, recalling the last few months, how it all felt wrong together. Was it because I had begun cheating on her that things went off the rails? Or did I cheat on her because of how bad things had been? She and I had been over…she no longer brought the inspiration I needed. She drained me and distracted me from my music, instead of leading me to greatness. How long had I gone without writing a single song? Everything went wrong because of her!

A knot in my stomach tells me that I’m trying to delude myself. I ignore it. How could I question her, when in her arms music came to me more easily than ever before? She became my new muse. The guilt I felt for cheating paled in comparison to the elation she evoked in me when we were together. Oh, the lyrics I wrote were sublime and I was noticed again by the big labels.

But how could I discard the useless muse? My love for her had died, withered just as the music we had composed together. All the beautiful moments we had shared were no longer forefront in my memory. Instead, all there was left were the bitter words we continually exchanged, and those whispered accusations she had made.

I come upon the small cluster of trees quite suddenly. Where things had gone so very, very wrong. All I had planned to do was to scare her into leaving me, to just end our relationship so I could finally be with her. She had to make the final decision because I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. Every time I tried, her sweet face brought back a flood of memories of happier times. I couldn’t imagine why she would even want to be with me after I had made it obvious that I was involved with another woman, that I had found another siren to follow in my quest for lyrics and song. But in these woods, she had pleaded and argued for me to come to my senses. Her words, as she defended herself against all the hideous accusations I made, that she had put in my head, were filled with such honesty and innocence that I turned on her in anger. I was not to be made a fool between two women, damn it all!

Blind rage surged within me so fast that the hunting knife I always carried was in my hand before I fully registered my thoughts. I wanted her to stop, just stop making me doubt her, doubt myself! She was no longer my inspiration, she had to accept that. But every word was driving uncertainty into the past several months. I couldn’t stand it. I had to shut her up. My knife cleaved into her chest before I even put a second thought into my actions.

My jaw hurts from having kept it clenched so hard. I look around me. There is nothing amongst the dead leaves. No body. There is no way she is alive. She couldn’t have survived such a wound out here in this infernal weather for two nights. I try to keep the panic from overwhelming me, but it’s tough. If someone came by and helped her, it would be my end. I drop to my knees and frantically search the ground for any clues of what had happened after I left, my hands sweeping at the fresh layer of fallen leaves, looking for footprints or objects left behind. It is getting dark enough that I’m unable to even make out the shapes of the things my hands are touching, but I continue to crawl about in the semi-darkness, until finally I feel tracks of some sort. The ground is dented and the leaves completely crushed. I understand now. She dragged herself somewhere.

Slowly, trying to keep my eyes on the faint tracks, I follow them until I come up to the lakeshore. Still, there is no sign of a corpse floating on the surface nor near the edges. The lake is not so big I can’t make out the other side, but still no bulk or shape is out of place there either. I’m full out panicking now. Where the hell did she disappear to? Any noble thoughts I might have had of burying her disappear. If she dragged herself to god-knows-where, the wild beasts could take care of her carcass.

God, what a bastard I’ve turned into.

I’m noticing something, though. Where are all the wild creatures? There is no noise whatsoever coming from the woods and no fish are moving in the water. The eerie calmness makes my skin break out in goosebumps. Cold sweat coats my skin and I start to back away from there. Then the moon makes its appearance. Not quite full, not quite new. It offers enough light in the night that the scene before me is even more disturbing that it might have been in the dark.

*************

Death

On the rocks to my right, half sunken in the water I see the woman I’ve been searching for. But she doesn’t seem the worse for wear after being stabbed through the heart. She sits there, facing away from me, her hair pooling about her hips where the water is teasing it. Has her hair been that odd shade of brown before? Even her skin had a greenish gray tint to it, and I’m fascinated by the peculiar play of light upon her. I stare, mouth agape.

She finally turns, slowly and entirely too smoothly for her usual self. Her face, sweet as I remembered, had on such a mask of seduction that my dick grew hard from the look of her. Had my muse ever being this erotic? I struggle to remember that she was supposed to be dead, at the very least dying. Somehow that important fact seems to slide away when her body comes into full view. Naked to my eyes, but for the shadows cast by the moon. I groan in discomfort.

I feel the lake tugging at my pant legs, and I look down to find myself knee-deep in the water. How I came to take the steps I don’t know, but the glorious vision before me is now beckoning to me. Arm stretched out towards me, palm upwards as if waiting for mine to take it. But she is still far out of reach, and though lust is riding me hard, I recoil at the thought of going deeper into the water. I grit my teeth as she spreads herself open for me. How many nights had I found bliss between those thighs?

Another step, and then I stop again. She is not hurt; there is no wound upon her naked breast, no stain of blood. What the devil is going on here? A moan of frustration comes from her throat, and she has my full attention once more. Her hand is wandering over her breast, the nipple puckering from either pleasure or the cool wetness of the air. I’m on fire and I can barely swallow. The cold water is having no effect on my arousal and I want to sink into her, warm her and cool myself.

When I still don’t make a move towards her, she raises the stakes. Her hand strays from her breast down her soft stomach, toying with the sensitive skin at her navel for a second...long enough for me to take several steps further into the water. I feel like I should say something. But my words fail me when her fingers reach the dark curls above her sex. Her head falls back and she writhes in pleasure. Pleasure brought by her own hand while I stand here suffering the hell of a full erection.

I’m waist deep into the water, and I start wading in her direction, logical thoughts completely erased except for what I plan on doing to her oversexed body. But my sultry muse sinks into the water and disappears from view. The lake has swallowed her, taken her as completely as I would have. For a few minutes, I wait.

To my aroused body, it feels like hours.

Finally something brushes against my thigh. A playful hand is gripping my leg, trying to pull me down. I stand fast and try to reach for her. I only grasp at strands of silky wet hair as she moves away. She still hasn’t come up for air, and I worry.

Another gentle grasp at my leg. This time catching me off guard, I dip a bit further into the water. I’m growing more frustrated by the minute, wanting to sate my body in hers. A current shifting by my legs tells me she is right in front of me, but this time I don’t reach out. I let her hands wander up my legs on their own volition. I could faint when at last released she releases me from the confines of my trousers and boxers. Watery velvet envelops me, and I relax into her mouth.

I’m brain-dead as she uses her tongue in ways I had never experienced. Not even the preoccupation of how she is able to hold her breath for so long is relevant at this glorious moment. I’m reaching my limit, the pressure in my balls building so quickly that I can’t remember to breathe.

A cry of sheer agony tears from my throat as sharp teeth sink into the overly sensitive flesh before I even find my release. I grasp blindly for her, one hand landing on her shoulder and the other on the side of her head, and I yank her up and out of the water. As her head breaks the surface I scream again, this time in terror. She launches herself at me, her hands curled into claws aiming for my eyes, her mouth open to display rows of sharp teeth. With her eyes are wide open I see they are covered with a clear viscous film seen on the dead fish at the market. Her hair tangles up in my grip and I can’t get her off me, our combined weight toppling us backwards into the water.

Frantically I fight her off, but I am getting pulled down towards the sandy bottom by more hands. I struggle and they tighten their hold. She is still above me, clawed hands holding my face in a vice against her bare breasts as I keep sinking. I’m screaming again, water filling my mouth and throat to choke me. A vicious smile curls her lips as she sees the death of me.

End.