Enough

For the unofficial challenge by L.C. Schäfer

Michael sat on the floor with his hands on either side of his head, bewildered, his blonde hair hanging down, hiding his eyes. But if you could have seen his once sparkling eyes, you would now think only of the red/white/blue of an American flag. The tears still clung to his lashes and down his cheeks. He had been sobbing there for over an hour and now they just silently rose in his chest, causing him to hurt each time he took a breath without her in his world.

Across from him, her body was sprawled out in a frozen, pale, lifeless form. She wore a sheer pink gown which gently wavered along with a few strands of her chestnut brown hair as the rotating fan oscillated in the room, reaching her and giving the appearance of an angel in the wind.

She had been his angel. His everything. There had been nothing he wouldn't have done for her. In fact, he had done just that. He had given up so much, he had pushed himself to go above and beyond, to climb higher and higher...and then some. There were no depths of his desperate love for her.

He had left behind a young wife and toddler to go to her bed. He was ashamed, but hadn't thought twice of his decision. He left his parents and siblings behind who had never forgiven him for his choice. Never would he believe that the regret of which they spoke into his future would come to fruition.

He dropped out of his master's program and then worked twice as many hours to compensate in a lower-paying sales position to afford her the luxuries that he wanted to bestow upon her. It didn't matter, as long as he could come home each night to breathe in the intoxication of her body and sultry laughter.

He took her anywhere she wanted to go. She had that way with him. He encouraged her to spend time with her friends and would patiently wait for her to come home, making sure there were hot meals waiting or at least, champagne, chocolates, and a lit fireplace for her arrival. He gave up his friends and his hobbies and he knew they scoffed at him behind his back for that. He didn't care. There wasn't time for that anymore.

His adoration knew no bounds. And nobody in his life understood it. She really wasn't even that pretty. Her reputation was tarnished by the old records his father had provided to him by a private investigator. It had not mattered. She would be his future, his life, and his wife, he had assured them all.

But as the months passed by he noticed that she would stay out longer with her friends, smile less at him, give sharp, critical retorts to his every thought and to each endeavor. For a while, he tried harder. But all his efforts proved exhausted and fruitless. He couldn't satisfy her anymore. Not even in bed.

He wasn't eating or sleeping and his work was jeopardized by his depression. He had no friends or family to turn to for advice or support. He prayed, but he knew in his heart, that his prayers could not be recognized for the hurt he had done to the people that had adored him. He knew he deserved this punishment.

So, after yet another long and languishing evening out with friends, she returned to tell him of her plans to leave him for another man.

Silently, he had reached for the long-bladed knife in the cutlery board and drove it deep into her heart. The heart that belonged to him. He did it again and again and watched the life go out of her.

He thought of driving it inside of his chest, too...but realized he was already dead. He had invented a man for her and that man had not been enough...