Del Frier

He really did it.

Her body lay limp in front of me, the sound of cackling swimming around my senses.

She was dead.

The love of my life;

dead. 

I continue to stare, her once scarlet hair now grey with age. Once beautiful skin pale with death. Her once lively eyes glazed over with sorrow.

He had really done it. 

He had killed my wife. 

Rage filled my eyes, taking over my senses as my fists clench and hatred poured over my emotions.

"É miserabile vacca!" I scream, withering against the bondage that tied my hands behind my back. 

The man simply laughed, holding the gun to my daughters head. The blood drained from my face, eyes widening as he pulled the trigger. 

Another scream rips at my throat, tears blocking out my sense of vision to a mass of wobbling blurs. 

Not Sophie.

So young.

So helpless.

So innocent. 

"Diavolo!" I cry, sinking to my knees. "Come hai potute?'

He laughs more, making me tremble with grief and rage. I didn't need to watch him kill my son.

I couldn't. 

It was wrong.

So wrong.

He did it of jealousy and hatred. He wanted Sargent. He wanted my life. But when noone could give it to him, he loathed me. He wanted to end my happiness. He thought of it as unfair because of my other child Blake. She had forgiven me but he did not. Why would he need an apology? I do not know. I guess feelings make you do crazy things. 

I had a feeling too.

My feeling wasen't hatred of despise.

My feeling was of giving up.

Giving up on everything.

But most of all, giving up on love.