Where He Keeps Her Broken Heart

I remember how she looked when she walked in the door. My girlfriend, the one that made all of my friends jealous of me, the one that other girls wanted to be. Yeah. That girlfriend. Fresh tan, strands of her bleach-blonde hair slipping out of its messy bun, those brown eyes smiling at me, twinkling with a light I never should have trusted. I never should have trusted a girl that pretty in the first place.

In her defense, she looked the part. She had claimed that she was going out for a day with her girlfriends. I guess the guy that she was with must’ve bought her the tan, although I had no idea at the time. I don’t blame her, in that regard at least. It’s more than I ever did, and she was always more concerned with material things. She had her nails done, too, all different colors. It looked good. 

What did he have over me? That’s what everyone in that situation thinks, at least that’s what I assume. I assume that nobody jumps for joy, exclaiming, “My girlfriend cheated on me! Everyone’s invited to the celebratory party!” I don’t know. I really don’t know. Maybe it’s what I didn’t have over him. 

“Hey baby, did you have fun?” I kissed her cheek, outlining her jaw with my lips, taking in the curve of it, making my way up to her ear. Studying her like an artist.

“Yeah, I did,” she says, her hand already crawling up my neck. 

I could imagine her doing that to another guy. She’s charming in that way. Yes, I could imagine her doing it, but I never thought that she actually would. The realization sunk in when she pulled me closer, her body fitting perfectly with mine. Or so it seemed, but maybe she found that it fit better with another man.

She usually took pictures when she went out. She always took pictures. Her Instagram would flood with them, and I would curse her for sending me seemingly hundreds of pictures and setting off my phone every two seconds, but a smile would still rise on my features like the rising sun as I saw her, the light bouncing off of her hair and illuminating every flawless feature that she had. 

“Babe,” I started, pulling back just enough to look her in the eyes, “did you take any pictures? You didn’t send me any.” I kept my voice steady for her, in case I was wrong (even though my thoughts were screaming at me, telling me that I wasn’t). Beads of sweat rolled down my neck in slow motion, and my heart thudded in my ears, drowning out what she said next.

But the shake of her head confirmed my fears.

It was so sudden, the fear that flooded through my entire body and pumped through my veins, that I shoved her when I let go of her. She stared up at me in shock as she staggered back a few steps, trying to regain her balance. The truth and understanding was the only thing that connected us now, replacing the strong love that we had with a thin golden string. 

Two days later, any trace that she had ever lived with me was gone. I slept on the couch for a week because I couldn’t get the smell of her perfume out of my bedsheets, and on the rare occasion that I went out in public, I swore that I could still smell it lingering in the air as if she had been by my side only seconds before. 

But I still loved her. I always will. Now she’s always with me. 

I smile, humming the tune to Tiny Dancer as I reach up onto the mantle and angle the duster so that it can get behind everything piled on top. “Crazy how this house accumulates so much dust in so little time, don’t you think?” She seems to agree with me, those beautiful brown eyes catching mine. 

It was pretty easy, looking back. The man she was with was simple. Once you find a girl as pretty as her, it’s only a matter of time before you’re bragging about it on social media. From there, I only had to pretend to befriend him, and then stab him in the back…literally. Hilarious, isn’t it? 

She was harder. Unfortunately, she already knew that I was coming after hearing the news about…Owen, I think his name was. I stopped by his grave once. It was a nice little tribute, made of light polished stone that glistened in the moonlight, flickering with the reflection of a spirit, dancing away on the rock. 

She had prepared herself and called the police, although they had her written off as crazed with guilt after cheating on her boyfriend, so she ended up being…messy. I had hoped to keep the body in one piece, but oh well! I was able to steal enough from the morgue to make a sufficient girlfriend. 

I’ll admit, she doesn’t look exactly the same as she did before she cheated on me, but at least now she’s quieter, never begging me to buy the newest brand name or droning on about the latest celebrity drama. She is quite agreeable, too, which I have enjoyed. 

She sits on the couch, her head drooping to one side and leaving part of her neck exposed. Down from there, she still has most of her torso intact (save for all of the ribs on one side and the gaping hole where her heart used to be), both of her arms, one of her hands, and one of her legs. She’s missing most of her other parts down there, but I don’t give her grief over it. She’s already a little self-conscious about her body, although she’d never admit it. 

I hide my grin as I saunter over to her, setting the duster on the arm of the couch and reaching into my pocket. “Look, I know that this is more of a casual time and place to do this, but I think that it fits our relationship. You’ve changed a lot, and I think that it’s for the better. Besides, I wanted to surprise you.” My knee brushes against the choppy carpet as I reveal what I’ve been holding. 

Now looking up at her, I pose the question that could change both of our lives forever: “Will you marry me?” 

With the twinkle in her eyes, I know that she says yes.