She’s been feeling kind of shaky lately. Like maybe her life wasn’t as happy as she thought it was. Little things were pissing her off in enormous, overblown proportions. Arguments with friends and family were becoming part of her everyday schedule. She thought to herself, after a solid week of getting into piss fights with everyone but the cat and her boyfriend, “I really need to sift through this poisoned brain of mine and figure out what’s really bothering me.”

So, she decided to take a walk. Blow off some steam, and get her thoughts together, all while making an attempt to be her own personal shrink.

She made her way through the house to her boyfriend Michael’s office. Strains of loud music seeped out from behind the closed door, and she knocked loudly before sticking her head in. Her eyes fell upon the man, sitting on a vintage-looking couch that was that bad shade of burnt orange that was so popular in the 70’s. He looked up, his long, brown, slicked back hair falling in his face, brown eyes twinkling softly. His small nose wrinkled as he turned his lips into a warm smile. “Hey, sweetness. What’s up?”

She had a troubled look on her face, and he saw it, but didn’t say anything, only waited for her reply. “I’m uh… I’m going out. I need to take a walk for a little while,” she paused to let out a nervous, stress-induced laugh. “I need to do some brain-straightening.” She looked down at the floor as she slipped a loose lock of red silk hair behind her ear, then lifted her eyes to look at him for his response.

“Oh, okay,” he said softly. He smiled, and perked a bit, cheer infested in his tone. “Just be back by seven. I invited some folks over. I figured we could use a party.”


Her full, freshly glossed lips tightened. Her brow tensed, and she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath through the small pinhole between her locked lips. Michael looked at her with concern. “You okay, baby?” She looked up at him, opening her eyes. There was fire behind her icy blue irises. “Another party?” she asked slowly, her voice low, deep with repressed anger. She was trying hard to keep from going off the hook with him. She had been for weeks, not wanting to inflict whatever anger she had inside her on him.

“Yes,” he replied, coolly. “Another party. What’s wrong with that?”

She looked at him, anger spreading more rapidly across her face. “You know, it’s taken me since yesterday to clear up the damage and mess from last weekend’s party. I don’t want to deal with that shit again. And several of my CD’s are missing.” She scowled, and looked back down at the floor, taking short, deep breaths, trying to calm herself.

“It’s only going to be a few---“ she cut him off. “That’s what you said last time, Michael. And the house wound up being packed wall to wall with your friends.  Why do you feel this incessant need to have a fucking party every damn weekend? Don’t any of your friends have have houses? For christ’s sake, does our home have to be party central and a crash pad forever?” He looked at her with hurt eyes. “Damn,” she thought, “Now I’ve attacked everyone.” But she felt she had a reason to be upset. He had parties almost every weekend, and she always ended up cleaning the mess and kicking out the people who drank too much and crashed in various places around the house. She was always the one to deal with the cops when neighbors complained of the noise, because it was always a given that Michael’s band would play at some point.

“Well what the fuck, Clio?” he asked angrily. “You never complained about it before.” His face tensed, he looked at her and saw her grow more angry, and he braced himself.

“What the fuck?” She yelled. “What the fuck. Let me tell you, Michael. You have a great time with your band and your buddies, and I get to be miss maid for a week afterwards. Have you ever noticed that I’m usually not around? That I take off with a friend or walk around until things die down? Do you ever ask me if I want a party? No, you just assume. And I’m fucking sick of it.” With that, she slammed the door. She stood there for a moment, forehead pressed to the wood frame, taking deep breaths. Without thinking, she opened the door back up, rage flying to her expression once again. “You know what? Fuck this. I’m leaving this house, and I’m leaving you. Goodbye.”

She walked fast through the house, grabbing the car keys of the one car that they shared, and bolted out the door. She started up the car, the engine of the old green station wagon roaring as she screeched out of the driveway.

She drove for some time, crying, thinking, sorting through her brain amidst the rage in her soul. She pulled into the parking lot of Merv’s Diner, where her best friend was a waitress. She got out and went inside, finding the place strangely barren for a late Friday afternoon. She looked around and didn’t see Lea anywhere. “Hey,” she called to the cook. “Is Lea working?”

“Not till seven, doll,” he replied. “I’ll tell her you were here.” She looked at her watch. Five fifty. “Okay, thanks,” she said, and went out the door, and back into the car. She sat behind the wheel for a moment, and pulled out a cigarette, her first since leaving the house. She felt the nicotine steal away some of her anger and stress, and she began to think aloud.  “Oh, shit. I just broke up with the one person in my life who brings me some stability. And I took his car to boot.” She shook her head, pressing her palm against her brow, then shaking herself, as if shaking some imaginary bug off of her shoulder. “I gotta get back there before he calls the cops and reports this hunk of junk as stolen. And I’d better apologise while I’m at it.” She turned the ignition, and headed out of the parking lot and back home.

When she arrived, there were cars parked all around the house, and several people sitting on the front porch, hanging out. She pulled into the driveway and walked up the path to the house. She greeted some people sitting on the railing of the porch, calmly, sweetly, even. “Hey guys, what’s up?”

“Oh hey, Clio. How’s it going?” A young man with blonde dreadlocks and a tie-dyed t shirt called to her. “Nothing… uh, you seen Mike around?” With that, a young, pale man with short dark hair appeared in the doorway with a cordless phone. He stepped out, and held the phone to her. “Clio. Your boy is on the phone.” She nodded and thanked him, taking the phone from his hand. “Hello?” she said, nervously.

“Pig,” She heard Michael’s voice come through the reciever, echoing through her brain and piercing through her like a million razor sharp arrows. She took a deep breath, holding back tears. “I deserved that, Michael. I’m so sorry. I made a snap decision on a lifetime commitment, and I am so, so sorry,” she spoke softly, and shakily into the phone.

“We need to talk,” he told her, his voice still cool and angry. “Yes, we do. Please, come home, and we’ll straighten this out. She heard his breath briefly, and then a dial tone. “Oh god. I really fucked this up,” she thought to herself, and went into the house to hang up the phone. She weaved through the small but rapidly growing crowd, stopping every so often to reply to the question of the evening: “Hey, Clio! Where’s Mike at?” She retreated to her bedroom, the only empty place in the house, and lit a cigarette, sitting on the bed and shaking as she wept quietly. After a few long moments of sobbing and listening to the sounds of muffled partygoers and loud music, there was a knock at the door. Three cold, loud knocks reverberated through the empty room. “Come in,” she called out shakily.

Michael appeared in the doorway, looking out the door behind him as he closed it and entered into the room. His eyes flashed as they caught sight of her. Before he could speak, she looked up at him with tears in her eyes, and began apologising. “I’m so sorry, Michael. I’ve just been so out of sorts lately and I’ve been trying so hard to keep from letting my anger out on you, but this whole party thing… I just want to have one weekend alone with you for once, and I’m so sorry…” she was rambling through her tears, and she knew she looked pathetic, but she didn’t care. She didn’t want to lose him over something so petty and stupid. He sat down on the bed. He didn’t touch her, his expression didn’t soften. “Why did you take my car?” he asked her calmly, but coolly. “I’ve been everywhere looking for you.”

“I know,” she said in between sniffles. “I wasn’t thinking. The whole thing… I just wasn’t thinking. It was like I was someone else. But I had a lot of time to think, and…” He cut her off, resting a hand on her forearm. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go somewhere.” She looked at him and just nodded, letting him lead her out of the room, through the crowd, and out of the house. He stopped at one of his bandmates and said, “I’ll be back. Keep an eye on things while I’m gone.” The man nodded, and smiled at Clio. A weird smile, but she dismissed it and followed Michael out the door. They got in the car, and he drove. It was beginning to get dark, they only had a little less than an hour before the sunlight would be gone. 

Michael didn’t speak while they drove, and Clio decided she would keep him from being any more irritated by not rambling or crying. The silence was deafening. They drove down Old Creek Road, which was basically just a long winding road paved through the woods. The only sign of civilization in the area was Merv’s Diner, which they had just passed. Moments after going by the neon lit diner, Michael pulled over to a shoulder of grass on the side of the road, an entryway into the woods. He got out of the car quietly and waited for her to do the same. She looked out the window at him, and got out as well.

“What are we doing here?” She asked him softly.

“I thought this would be a good place,” he told her. His arms were crossed in front of him, and he half-turned, unfolding his arms and pointing into the woods. “See this path?”
“Yeah,” she replied, confused.
“You’re going to walk it. I’ll meet you at the end. There’s an old concrete foundation there, covered in grafitti, you can’t miss it. It’ll take you about an hour to get there on foot, so I suggest you start walking.”
She got worried, now. “Why won’t you walk with me?” she asked. “Just trust me. I have a point to make.”
“Can’t we just talk? I’ve already apologised. I was stupid, Michael.” He just shook his head. “No. Just trust me. Start walking.”
She got nervous. She felt sick to her stomach. She dropped to her knees and puked, holding her stomach. Pink froth pooled on the ground under her, the digested remains of the only thing she had eaten today: some weird novelty candy she picked up at 7-11. He shook his head at her, no sympathy in his voice. “Come on, Clio. You don’t want it to be too dark out there while you’re walking alone.”
Her hopes were dashed. She was scared. She thought maybe the puking would make him change his mind, but it didn’t work. She got up, and nodded, coughing a few times, and heading off into the woods. She went in until she was sure he couldn’t see her, and ran back out when she saw his headlights pull away and fade into nonexistance as he drove down the road. She ran to the diner, and quickly walked up to Lea, pulling her aside. “Listen, I don’t have much time to explain, but you know the entrance to the woods down that way?” she pointed east, and waited for her friend’s reply. 
“Oh yeah. Used to go down there and smoke out all the time. Why?” The petite blonde girl answered.
“If you walk straight on the path for an hour, do you come to an old concrete foundation with graffitti on it?” Clio asked hurriedly. “Oh yeah, Lea said. We used to party out there a lot in high school.”
Clio felt relieved. She wondered why she hadn’t trusted Michael. She guessed it was just the strange way he was going about the reconciliation process. “Okay.” She hugged her friend. “Thanks. Hey, stop over later. We’re having a party.” Her friend nodded and watched as Clio ran out the door and jogged up the street. 

She reached the entrance, and jogged into the woods, trying to regain some time she lost on her detour.  It was getting darker. She could still see, but everything was deeply shadowed. Twigs and branches snapped under her feet as she jogged. After about 10 minutes of jogging, she slowed down to a brisk walk, figuring she caught herself up just fine by now. Her mind raced. She wondered what kind of point Michael was trying to make. All she knew was that she was prepared to swallow her pride and grovel at his feet for forgiveness if she had to.

She lit a cigarette and smoked while she walked. As the sky grew darker, the air grew colder, and each lungful of smoke she exhaled mingled with her hot breath, making the clouds of smoke seem huge. It was almost completely dark now, and she startled, hearing a twig snap from a distance, echoing around her. She stopped, listening. After a few brief moments, she threw her cigarette and started to jog again. Her heart and breath pounded in her ears, and she turned to look behind her. Just as she looked forward again, she was tackled to the ground with a strong force, and turned onto her back. Before she could struggle, she felt pressure on her chest, holding her down. It was a foot. Michael’s foot. She looked around nervously, seeing shadowy figures standing on either side of her, and her beloved boyfriend above her. “What are you doing?” she asked him nervously, still trying to get up. He pressed down harder, and she stopped struggling.

“Proving my point, Clio,” he said coldly. “You can’t get anywhere without me.”

“But Michael,” she started, and was interrupted by cold metal pressing into her opened mouth. Her eyes opened wide and she began to tremble, realizing it was a rifle. “Don’t fucking say it, Clio,” he growled. “I’m so sorry, Michael, I didn’t mean it, I love you,” he said, mimicking her in a childish, sing-song voice. “Am I right?” He said, his tone again taking on white hot anger. “Well, you should be sorry. I don’t know what the fuck you were thinking.” He shrugged, and she jerked. He shoved the rifle deeper into her mouth and she whimpered loudly. 

Her mind raced. “ohmygodhe’sgonnakillmewhatamIgonnado…ohmygodohmygodOHMYGOD…” He leaned in closer to her, moonlight reflecting off of his features beautifully. She looked up at him frightened, unable to move, unable to speak…. And too scared to try. He looked at her, tilting his head, inspecting her, obviously relishing her fear. He stood up straight, locking his eyes with hers.

Silence.

BOOOOOM! The sound of the rifle firing echoed through the woods loudly, ricocheting off of the trees and vibrating through the ground, where the bullet and most of her head was now buried in.

Michael slowly took his foot off her chest and slung the rifle over his shoulder. He smiled wryly, looking at the freshly dead body of his former girlfriend. “Sorry honey,” he said softly. “I guess I just made a snap decision on a lifetime commitment.”