Poison Lust

This was it. Today was the day. The day little girls dream about, and the day most people feel the happiest. Today was the day I proposed to my girlfriend.

I had dated Sylvian Winechester for 2 years. Which, in my opinion, was far too long. As my mother always said, 'The right one will fall into your lap and you need to take action right then.' My mother was also an idealest. But truly, after God knows how long of trial and tribulation and many, many failed dating websites, this time I think I had found the one. Sylvia was gorgeous and smiled like the sun midday in June. From the moment I saw her, I knew I had no choice but to marry her. And today was the day I proposed. After 2 short years of ice cream, movies and lots in between, everything would soon be coming to its sweet ending.

Except...

"It was just here!" I shouted, frantically searching my pockets for the small velvet box.

"Just calm down Mikey, it's probably just in your car or something," scoffed a girl to the right of my crampped office.

Papers were strewn around the small room, falling gently to the ground and desk with helpless disarray. Some even landing on the girl as she batted them away, obviously unconcerned about the increasingly panicked man throwing the documents around.

"This could be the most important day-" He paused. "Is the most important day of my life, Meredith. This is serious." He turned to face her. His face twisted with concern and fear and his eyes a bloodshot red. "Could you at least help me look for it?" He pleaded.

She paused and shook her head.

"Only because its that important to you," she sighed, making her way over to the door of the small office. "I'll check the extra room."

×××

The clock chimed. 3 o'clock. Mikey thought. 30 minutes till the meet up with Sylvia. He was growing anxious. Well, he had been for the past hour he and Meredith had been searching the apartment, and the past 2 years about when he would propose, and if it would be perfect and according to plan. Mikey had moved from the office space to the living room, and even checked the kitchen. Nothing. No sign there was ever a ring that would forever seal his fate and determine his entire life ever here. That ring, a gold plated band that housed a diamond the size of his pinky finger (that'll sure charm the ladies), was the most important object of his life. That wasn't living of course. It had belonged to his father, and his father before him, and his before him, all the way back to the late 1600s. Every man in his family had given this ring to the one who would forever change there lives. Now it was missing. He had lost it.

"Hey Meredith, you found anything?" He called to the upstairs bedroom he presumed she was searching.

No answer.

"Meredith?"

...

Mikey hurried his way up the stairs, faintly grasping the banister as he sped upwards. He stepped up to the top stair and made a sharp left turn into the bedroom. Meredith stared, in awe, at the contents of a tiny black box, that seemed to glow from the sheer wonder of the ring. Mikey let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, then quickly sucked in another sharp gasp as she slid the ring out of the box and onto her tan, slender finger.

Millaseconds felt far too antagonizingly long yet so painfully short as he grasped forward to try and grip Meredith's arm. To stop her. To save her.

"Meredith stop!"

She let in a sharp, quick gasp as the band slid to the base of her finger. Red started to run around the edge of the gold and leaked, in drops, from her finger. The contrast of the blood red of Meredith's life and the shimmering and callous gold told Mikey he was too late. He put down all hope and watched the results.

Her face paled behind dark curly hair, as she looked down at her own undoing. Her eyes rolled back into her skull and she dropped to her knees as her own lungs betrayed her, failing to intake more air. As she writhed in the pain she had unknowingly cause herself, Mikey stood, frozen in the door way, knowing there was nothing he could do for his dear friend. This was the family business since the 1600s. He wasn't allowed to interfear. A thud signaled she had dropped to the ground, gasping and sputtering. He couldn't help her, he knew the prick in the ring had worked.

The poison was kicking in.