Short Stories

Secrets Are Meant To Be Told

A while back, I had been sitting back on the worn beige seats of the bus. Moonlight spilled through the small windows and glares against the glass screen of my late father's watch. My fingers tap repeatedly against the hard plastic of the armrest. I wipe the blackened crust off of my fingernails into the frayed cloth of my light blue jeans. My eyes shift to the left where the brunette man sits quietly. A wave of thought rushes over me. He will get off at the next stop with me, but I will never see this man again. The perfect opportunity to confess my actions of the night. The wheels squeal to a stop in front of the lone park bench. He and I are the only ones to stand, to get off of that bus, to walk home alone. I follow him off, and the moment both my feet hit the compacted light dirt, the vehicle sped off. I was finally alone with this man. Grabbing his shoulder, I pull him back to me. His dark eyes widen as he looks back at me.

"Wh-who are you?" His low voice stammers out.

I chuckle softly and shake my head, "That's none of your concern. I just wanted to ask you a simple question."

"S-Sure. What is it?" He asks, his voice slowly becoming more shrill. The corner of my lip tugs up into a minuscule smirk as my eyes shift over his large nose, too thin lips, the tufts of light brown hair sticking everywhere, and the small heads of perspiration running down his acne-ridden skin. Oh yes, I think to myself, he wouldn't be remembered if all goes wrong.

"Have you ever been in love?" The question hangs in the air.

A small sigh of relief is heard as the man grins innocently at me. "Once or twice. Was that all?"

"Not quite. I want to tell you how I fell in love actually." Our eyes lock and j glare intently at him.

"G-Go ahead then." He murmurs and sits back against the dark mahogany of the bench.
I stand taller and stuff my hands into the warmth of the deep pockets in my jeans. "I met her when I was eighteen. She was younger, too young for me, yet I was drawn to her like a moth to a flame." She was twelve, I recall to myself, but he doesn't need to know that. "We were together for a year before her parents found out. They had the audacity to prohibit me from seeing her again. But I didn't listen." I growl the last sentence.

"I-I'm so sorry." He stutters, his wide eyes glaring up at me.

Ignoring him, I go on. "I couldn't bear to be away from her, so I took her away from them." A small weight was lifted from my shoulders with each word I said. "People noticed her a sense though. Everywhere I looked, there was her picture. On the television, posters, in every paper imaginable there she was in the missing child section." I pull out the thin, yellowed sheet of paper from my heavy jacket. Pointed out a certain article, I pass it to the man. "That's my girl."

My eyes gaze down at the small picture on the page. Her light brown hair cascades down her pale, slender shoulders and her sky blue eyes gleam happily. "She's really pretty." The man comments, his voice cracking nervously. "What happened after that?"

"We lived together. Well, almost lived together. I lover her down here and kept her hidden in the basement. It was nice, she had her own television, a queen sized bed, her own full bathroom. She was content with it, she understood why I wouldn't allow her to leave. I wouldn't be able to deal with it if they found her and took her away from me. We had a great four years together. I pleased her in ways no one else ever has." My breathing quickens as I think back on the many nights we spent together.

"Y-You raped her?" The man gasps out and shuffles back in his seat.

My teeth clench and grind against each each other. "I never raped her. Each and every time we made love, I asked for her permission. And every time I asked her, she welcomed me with open arms. She would even beg for me."

"I-I'm sorry." He stutters, his eyes shifting down to the dirt.

I sigh and run my fingers through my hair. "Oh how I miss her dearly." I say softly, catching his attention once more.

"What happened to her?" His voice rings throughout the chill of the autumn night.

"You really want to know?" I question him, my eyes meeting his.

He nods, "Please."

"I killed her. And oh, what a wonderful death it was." I chuckle under my breath.

"Why?" His pupils shrink, become the size of a needle point.

"She was planning to leave me with that bastard child." I shrug nonchalantly. "I couldn't let her go telling everyone what we've done."

"Child?" His voice becomes shrill.

"Yes, she ended up becoming pregnant about two years ago. I decided to let her keep the offspring. She loved the child so much. Too much." I sneer and turn my gaze away from him. "I should have never agreed to let her keep him. I should have made her miscarriage and she never would have chose the brat over me. Once he turned one, she starting getting these radical ideas about how she could give him a better life. But I knew that she had to stay with me."

Dark blotches edge my vision as my hand clench together, the skin over my knuckles turning a pale white. "I had to stop her and talking wasn't doing anything. This morning, I made her usual lunch of a simple tuna sandwich with a wedge of a dill pickle on the side. But this time, I added a little of something special to the green food. I only added just enough for her to live just long enough for me to say my last goodbyes. I was so grateful she was aware of my liking to roleplaying on the bedroom. It always made her look so much sexier." The corner of my lips tug up into a mischievous grin as I look back at the now mute stranger.

"That pirate costume was always my favorite for some reason that I have yet to figure out. Just seeing stand before me in it had my heart threatening to beat out of my chest. It was right as I came in her that the poison began to truly affect her. With each minute that went by, she would vomit and clench her stomach in pain. The poor girl. I had to put her out of her misery, so..." I pull the weapon out from the inside of my jacket pocket, the light from the lamppost gleaming against the metal blade. The dark crust flakes off from the sharp edge. "I sliced her throat open. It didn't take long before she bled out and the gleam in her eyes died out."

"But what about the child?" He blurts out.

I raise my brow as I slip the butcher's knife back into my inner pocket. "He did say he wanted his mommy, so I made it so that he could always see her in hell."

I turn on my heels, walking away from this stranger. A sigh escapes past my lips as my feet rhythmically hit the hard ground. The cool metal of the blade presses against the burning skin of my chest. Any guilt about this horrid night that has built up inside of me disappears as I move along down the abandoned streets. The soft buzz of many televisions catching everyone's meagre attention spans fills the night silence. My feet drag along until I take my final steps up the cement stairs. Shaking slightly, I pull the gold key from my jeans pocket and unlock the front door. I pass the dozens of doors , focusing solely on the end of the hallway. The door creaks as I push softly on the wood. The steps moan under my weight as I trudge down into the basement. With a soft click, the lights sputter on and illuminate the room in the soft golden light. The shuffling of my feet fills the room as I stand over the couch and look down. Her pale eyes stare up at me with the frozen shock of her last few moments. I lift her up and sit back on the darkly stained cushions, resting her head on my lap. My fingers pet the girl, feeling her soft brown locks slipping between my fingers.

"I did it baby, I got rid of the child. You can finally be all mine again." Leaning down, I kiss her cold, hard lips.