The WEP is all about the prompt
and this month it was
REUNIONS
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FIRST LOVE NEVER DIES
Mathew taught me how to catch
a football, and was Romeo to my Juliette in the school play, my first kiss, and
my first love. Mathew became my friend in grade school
and my lover in high school. When an opportunity to go to England for college arrived,
he insisted I take it. For the first year,
we tried maintaining a long-distance relationship
but failed.
He met someone else, and I had
to let him go. It was only fair. I’d left him. When I came home to bury my parents, I found that he’d not returned after
college. No one knew where he was. And then the reunion committee sent out the
invitations to our ten-year class reunion. I had to go. He might be there.
He was.
He caught my eye, and it was as though all those years
between hadn’t occurred. His smile told me all was forgiven. Still the most handsome man in the room, all muscle, with deep blue eyes, and dark
curly locks. He was just as I imagined, unassuming, funny, and sweet. I
couldn’t believe I’d ever let him go. I hoped this time it would end
differently.
“You never married?” I held
his hand in mine. “Me neither.”
“How could I, you were living
in another country.” Mathew grinned, and my heart melted.
“You do realize that air travel
has been possible since the last century?”
He laughed. “I’m a pilot. I’d
better be aware of that fact.”
I was impressed. I knew he graduated with an engineering degree, but I didn’t know he’d learned to fly a plane. “That’s wonderful,
congratulations!”
“I’d love to show you the
night sky. Would you fly with me?”
“I’d love to. When?”
“Now. I only came to this
shindig to see you.” He squeezed my hand. “Ready to blow this popsicle stand
for some adventure?”
“More than ready.” Those were
the last words we’d said to each other the day he saw me off at the airport for
my flight to England. Time stopped. The room disappeared. The music and noise
faded as he pulled me into his arms and kissed me. Long and deep until I was breathless. Just like our last
kiss, but this time, we left together.
His Piper Cub climbed into a
purple sky with stars lighting the night like millions of shimmering LED
lights. It was beautiful and romantic, a view that brought tears to my eyes. We
floated through the air. Silent, and comfortable, exchanging sly glances.
Emotions were high, the night was filled with possibility, promising passion, and love.
Mathew landed on a patch of land
just south a small chalet in the Rocky Mountains.
“I’ve dreamed of bringing you
here for years. You don’t mind, do you?”
“No, but, where are we?”
“My home away from home. A
place where we can have our own private reunion.”
“I’d like that,” I said as we walked hand in hand to his cabin.
I was anxious but thrilled. This reunion
couldn’t have been sweeter.
The cabin was an A-frame, with
a view of the valley below. I assumed a forest surrounded the lake that
reflected the stars above, and I imagined the mountains ahead and above us. It
was lovely, I couldn’t wait to see it in the morning sunshine.
We went straight to his bed
and made love in front of a fire. That night the reunion was physical, sensual,
and more satisfying than anything I could’ve imagined.
“Can you stay?” he asked as I
lay wrapped in his arms.
“I wish I could. I have an
interview Monday morning. The job of a lifetime in Paris. Can you come with me?
Is there anything holding you here?”
He pulled me close. “I’ll
think on it. Now sleep, morning will be
here soon.”
After several hours, I awoke to a stranger. Mathew
had secured me to the bed with handcuffs, blindfolded me, and proceeded to beat
me viciously with a leather strap. I cried, screamed, whimpered, and begged him
to stop.
He did, but not until my body
was a mass of bleeding welts.
“Why? Please tell me why?”
“You made your choice ten
years ago. Now I’ve made mine.”
“I don’t understand?”
“Neither did I.” Was all he
said.
He left me alone, still handcuffed
to the bed posts. Unable to move, I slept, cried, and screamed for release. I
don’t know if he was there. Was I alone or was he watching?
That night, he returned. He
threw me into the shower then he attacked again. He raped and stabbed me repeatedly.
I prayed for death. But the God’s would not release me from hell. I passed out but awoke just as he threw me into a new
hell hole. A cellar where women that looked like me had died. I counted ten in
my search for safety as a storm broke overhead.
The smell of death was beyond
reason, but decaying bodies, loss of blood, and a flooding grave meant the end
will come soon. The winds howled, and the
rain came down in sheets. Soon it was pouring into the chamber. I knew the grim
reaper had lost patience. My blood mixed with the rising water and I wondered
how long I could hold my breath. I
laughed instead and watched the water
rise. The other bodies began to float in a macabre synchronized fashion as I
realized that the man I’ve loved since the age of seven was a serial killer.
I’d created a monster?
***
The memory of that night will
never leave me. Especially when Mathew came back for me. He lovingly stitched
up my wounds and nursed me back to health. Now, when he takes a new victim, I clean up the
mess.
Mathew still doesn’t believe that I’d never leave him again. But
each year he adds length to the chain around my ankle. Someday, I’ll earn his
trust.
996/words
Yolanda
Renee © 2017
