I’m very impatient, and today was no exception. My boyfriend, Sparrow, has been working such long shifts, and I’m left alone most of the day. Suddenly, I hear the jingle of keys, and the door of the apartment opening.

“Hello, dear!!” I exclaim

“Hey!!!” He replies.  I run over to my love, and give them a hug and a kiss.

“How was your day, Sparrow?” I ask

“Oh, it was fine, a lot of work things.” He has a tired look in his green eyes. They are usually bright and excited, now, more and more, they seem to be dull, and tired. This job isn’t the best for him.

“I’m sorry lovely, are you hungry?”

“Yea I didn’t get to eat all day.”

“Oh god, ok, what would you like?”

“Uh, I’m not sure, but how about we sit down for a while. You don’t need to worry about me. We will eat together at dinner.”

“Are you sure, I don’t mind cooking for you. In fact, I love doing it.”

“You must stop doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Saying things that make me want to kiss you.” 

“Oh, uh, sorry?”

“Don’t worry dear, I think it’s cute.”

            I lean into Sparrow’s chest, and he gives me a nice, soft, kiss. Right on my lips. I am too happy to pull away. We stay like that for about a minute, before I fall into his arms and we cuddle.

            “That, that was really nice,” I whisper into his chest, just loud enough for him to hear. I can’t see his face, but I feel he is smiling, smiling so much that his cheeks hurt.

            “I agree,” He replies. I feel his lips touch my forehead, and now I have the biggest smile. I’m such a sucker for forehead kisses, but honestly just kisses in general. I’m distracted from my thoughts by my love’s hand, holding my cheek. He lifts up my head, and looks down into my eyes. I look up to meet his gaze, and yet again we are both smiling like drunk idiots. I can’t get enough of this. He puts my head back down, but not before he kissed me yet again. I nestle my head into his chest, careful not to get too comfortable since I still need to cook dinner. Sparrow puts his hands around my body, and holds me close. I’ve never had the best luck with relationships, but I have a good feeling about this one.

…

            I have just turned off the stove when Sparrow’s phone starts ringing. He sure has been getting a lot of work calls. I sigh, and shake my hand at them as to say, “go ahead”. I made a special kind of Japanese noodle that Sparrow loves as a surprise for him. It’s called soba. You can eat it cold or hot, and he loves it hot. I guess tonight it’s going to be cold.

            I go and sit down at our little bar area. Since we don’t have friends over, or children, we just use the two barstools and the counter top as a table. I have lost my appetite. This s*** has been going on for way too long, and I have had enough. All the interruptions, the secrecy of them, and to top it all off, Sparrow barely being home. I know exactly what he’s doing. He thinks he’s so smart, saying he’s working extra time. I know that he’s just cheating on me. His demeanor is different, and I can tell he doesn’t love me anymore. I don’t even know if he ever did. And I know how to spot a cheater, I’ve met plenty of them in my lifetime. All of them thinking they are so slick. Ha, as if. I’m not a dumb little trophy wife. I will find out, and I will get my revenge. As I’m thinking about all this, and letting both of our bowls get cold, I feel a big, warm, hand on my waist. I’m startled, so I nearly fall out of my chair. The hand is joined by another, and helps keep me upright. I turn and see Sparrow, standing behind me, holding me upright. I give him an angry look, but he sits down next to me anyway.

            “I’m so sorry my dear. I hate doing this to you. What can I do to make it up to you?”

“I don’t know, maybe stop cheating on me!”  I shout.

            “Huh? Wren what do you mean?”

            “YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHAT I MEAN. ALL THIS “EXTRA WORK” IS JUST A PLAY SO YOU CAN BE OFF SLEEPING WITH ANOTHER GIRL. I KNOW HOW THIS WORKS.”

            “Wren, calm down, calm down, that is not the case. I don’t even know why you would think that about me, I lo-.”

            “OH, SHUT UP SPARROW. YOU DON’T LOVE ME. YOU NEVER HAVE, JUST ADMIT IT.”

            “Wren, please, calm down.” He’s teary eyed, and I laugh. He’s crying?! I’m the one who should be crying. I’m the one getting cheated on. I’M THE VICTIM.

            “I’M SO OVER YOUR S*** SPARROW. I CAN’T LIVE LIKE THIS ANYMORE. I’M TIRED OF THE LIES, THE DECIET, THE F****** AUDACITY.”

            “YOU KNOW WHAT THEN WREN, GO. LEAVE. NO ONE’S STOPPING YOU.”

            “I WILL.”

            “GOOD.”

            There’s a pause, an uncomfortable silence. The tension has been laid on thick. Wren speaks up again, this time in a quiet voice, but still fueled with anger.

            “I hate you and your nasty habits.”

            “Then leave Wren, just leave.”

…

Sparrow

            She follows me. Everywhere. I can’t escape her. I’ve moved all over the place in the last 6 months. She always finds me. I have even gotten my hair cut and dyed multiple times, and have been under new personas each time I leave a city and find a new one. I’m always looking behind me, in front of me, to the left and right of me. I can’t focus on anything except trying to stay away from her. It’s tiring, and I’m always scared.

…

She found me. I can’t see, I can barely hear, except a low humming, like the one a lightbulb would make, just before it blows out. I’m curled up in a ball. I think I’m in some sort of bag. I can kind of start to see now. The bag feels rough, and scratchy. It has a weird smell to it. Like, burnt hair. I feel hands holding me up, multiple pairs of them. My mind is going a mile a minute, I can’t think straight. I’m panicking, I can’t breathe. I’ve always had bad anxiety, but I haven’t had a panic attack in years. My whole body is shaking, and I feel the grip of hands go tighter. I feel suffocated, and I can hear my heart beating faster and faster with each short intake of air. The movement of hands makes it even worse. I’m being shifted onto a hard surface. The bag is lifted up and over me, and all I feel is a cold, hard, metal surface. I suppose it’s a metal table. I look around, oh, god, it’s a metal table. Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god. I’m freezing. This looks like, like a morgue. But I’m not dead, am I? How can I be alive if I’m dead? I hear a clinking sound. I turn to face it. It’s her, it’s Wren. And she’s holding one heck of a bone saw.