That damned smile

You remember her first day at the new job, how she beamed with excitement, how happily she kissed you as she left your car, hopeful and happy in her new career. You loved how she woke you up, early and excited for her first day and how you, despite wanting sleep, dragged yourself to the shower to get ready for her big day. You watched the happiness radiate from her face as she ran through the automatic doors of her new future, you there to support and love her.

You remember watching as the life she wanted began to drain her with each passing month, each late night and early morning working, the pain it caused you to see such a happy woman be drained of her aspirations from each additional pile of work that was slammed on her desk. You remember the stories about her overly friendly boss and the feeling you got when you met her at work for lunch, the hungry looks he shot her way when he thought you weren’t looking. You recalled her saying that he was just a friend and was just a bit of an odd guy, so you dismissed it. You remembered the anxiety when she had to work later and later with just him, helping him with a few reports and sorting some clerical errors, but you trusted her and let it go. The feeling in your gut never went, and it always got worse when he came near, but she told you that you were being stupid, you knew something was wrong, but you didn’t want to argue again.

Then was the overnight business trip, you remember that smile she had before she boarded and how you never saw it again. She didn’t answer your messages, your calls, she was gone for three days on the trip. You remember how she didn’t look you in the eyes when she got back, how she was short and cold with you. You still hear her sobs when you turn on the shower, still remember how she wouldn’t let you look at her or touch her in bed. You watched the woman you love evaporate in your eyes as she became angry at you for trying to kiss her, how she would snap and cry, sob at night, but never tell you what happened, but you knew, you knew something had happened.

You still can’t look at the bathtub, the image of her laying there, taps running red carved in your memory. You can’t shake the feeling of her cold, pale skin in your hands. You can’t feel your heart, not anymore. Blue lights still make you flinch, make your chest seize and feel like it will rip into two. You remember the sobs you choked back as they lowered her into the ground, how her mother wouldn’t look you in the eyes, how her brother couldn’t stop crying. You still feel the hot tears of anger that filled your eyes when, three months later, you found her note sandwiched between the cushions of the sofa; the anger that filled you as you cursed her for leaving you alone in this world, for cutting short the forever you had planned together, but you remember the ball of hot lead in your stomach when your suspicions were confirmed, how it made you want to scream until your lungs wouldn’t let you anymore. You screamed at her, hating that you were right, had she listened to your feelings about him, had she made someone else go with him, that she might still be here with you.

You followed him, his face, that shit eating grin he always wore tormenting your every waking second, his smile, that damned tooth filled grin burned its way into your brain. You watched him from a distance, watched him go home to a family that loved him, cared for him, the very thing that was taken from you. It wasn’t fair and you knew that, something had to be done and you knew exactly what that was. He didn’t remember you, and why should he, you knew that would work in your favour. You mapped the way to his house when you followed him home, remembered the places he visited, the drinks he ordered and the friends that he saw, where he sat at certain coffee shops and what he would order for his lunch. You plotted multiple ways to end him with meticulous detail. If anyone knew his plans, it was you. You knew his schedule and patterns better than he did.

You remember the moment when eight months of preparation finally came to a climax, the feel of his door click open as you used the spare key from under the welcome mat, how your breath was stifled in the mask you wore and made it hard to deactivate his home alarm system, but you did it. You wanted to make him pay for what he did, you wanted him to admit it, you wanted his reputation and life ruined, so you took the camcorder to film his confession, he didn’t deserve death. His family was out of town, good, it was just him, and a night of drinking like a usual Saturday made it easier for you to make your way upstairs to his room. You remember the weight of the hammer you took with you, how good it felt when you woke him up with a smack to the collar bone and how it splintered under the force of your anger. You remember how he begged for you to stop after the third hit, the terrified look in his eyes as you stood over him. You heard how he told you lies, how she was in a relationship with him, how they planned a family… how he got her pregnant. The reasoning left you after that, the screams made it easier, he deserved this. You asked for the truth, why did he lie, he didn’t need to lie. You remember each hit and how it shook down your arm, how after each blow his begging became quieter and quieter, until the only noise left was your sobbing and a noise like a wet bag of offal being slammed into the wall.

He couldn’t hurt anyone anymore, you made sure of that.

 It had been a month since the funeral, the funeral was too nice for the monster he was, but he was dead and you moved on, you still thought of him and her, the lies he spat out, but he was gone now, but you always remembered his face, how could you not. You saw him when you slept and when you closed your eyes, so you decided a fresh start was for the best.

You remember the new city that you moved to, how the grass felt greener and the sky was bluer. You remember how your dreams were free of him, how you started a new job at a café and how life was going well. You remember how after working a closing shift you turned to see a man standing near an alleyway, waiting and watching. You called out to him, but as you took a double take, he had gone, you payed it no mind. But you saw him again and again, maybe once a month, then once a fortnight. It became a weekly occurrence. Finally, you left work early one night and caught the man, standing and looking in, waiting for you. You remember as you were about to get the jump on him when he turned.

That smile, that damned shit eating grin. You knew he was dead, you made sure of it, you didn’t stop hitting until he was. But how? How was he right in front of you in the street, smiling at you with that serpentine grin.