Death, Strawberry & Friends
The eyes are windows to the soul, but if you see death, do you become it? If you see love end, how long should you stay in the void that’s left? Look into the eyes of the devil and he looks back at you, stare long enough and you become friends.
The door is open, and Senya see’s red – the hair of a women. Her back is beautiful, just the way she’s always wished her’s could be. Senya’s breathing is soft like a stalking animal, as she watches them on her bed. No meaningful thought has passed through her head since she got there, just her heart beating faster and faster while it leaks love. The red haired woman was writhing on top of him. Senya felt sick in her stomach. She watched the man she’s showed off to all her friends, grab Red’s posterior the way he would grab her before climax. The flesh of her perfectly plump ass rose through his fingers under the pressure. His breathing was heavy, and his grip was producing enough force to lift her weight & moisture off his hips, he was taking control from her.
Senya was slowly freeing herself of the numbness, the warmth of rage was beginning to fill her cold clammy hands. This raised awareness brought more pain, both their passionate moans were now clear and gut wrenching. Red was saying things that Senya never did, allowing acts to be performed on her she never could, and he was euphoric. He forced himself inside her repeatedly as he held her petite body up off him, the sound of it was undoing Senya’s sanity. His passion turned to aggression, aggression turned to violence, and Red loved it – encouraging it as her body and hair bounced like a rag doll. They both screamed in pleasure as if they knew she was watching, her soul dying as they performed for the demons below.
Senya started to cry, how could Joe do this to her…? He said that she was just a friend, that there was nothing to worry about. Last week, even claiming she was acting like a jealous bitch, and it was unattractive. The last tear of sadness fell from her face, it landed on the cold kitchen blade in her hand. As it cooled on the stainless steel, so did her temperament.
The words “Death to Red, and all her friends” gently escaped from her mouth. They were the last words Senya ever said. A warm vapor dammed to the underworld – like her soul.
By Alpha Maurice Cidade Cauwenbergh
© Alpha Maurice Cidade Cauwenbergh – Storyteller, Poet & Intern at Wordsmith Inc 2019. Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Alpha Maurice Cidade Cauwenbergh – Storyteller, Poet & Intern at Wordsmith Inc with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.