Oh, The Horror!

He watches her eat her lunch at the cafe, her dinner at her favorite Italian bistro.  He sees her throw her garbage away, recycling her cans and water bottles; she's aways so careful, so mindful of the world around her, and he loves that. She is thoughtful in this world full of me, me, me, and a generation of "gimme-now-or-I'll-hold-my-breath."  Yes, she is special. She is special to him; he loves her in a way he never thought possible.

He had been so empty before...just as empty as all the zombies of the world, all sitting in their cubicles doing nothing but rot; shuffling along city streets, heading nowhere with the intent of the end of the world. Then she came along. Beautiful, stunning, caring, aware, and he could have sworn she was not human, for she did not act like the rest of these animals, these selfish zombies.

She was so very special.

That was why he watched.  He was waiting for the perfect time, the perfect moment, for they belonged together; she was his refuge, and he would be her protector.  He thinks of this often. It is now his every waking thought; it consumes him.  He dreams of their perfect life together constantly.  He even got a ring, for tonight. Tonight was the night, finally.  He has a telescope. He usually watches her at night, never innapropriately or sexually, he only wants that and her when she gives herself to him...and she will. She will be his partner, his wife, his lover, the mother of his children. He will give her anything she could ever want or desire. She will be his, for she is so very special.

In his loft are pictures of this perfect woman convering every wall, she is the screen saver on his PC, the wallpaper on his tablet, his phone. He is surrounded by her visage, immersed in her beauty and perfection.If only she understood they were meant to be.  But he had the ring, now; he had a plan, oh yes, tonight... He would convince her tonight, he would spill his heart and his guts, he would present the expensive ring, yes, and it would have to work. He would die trying. 

 

The seconds were torture; the minutes ticked his agony.  He had to do something!

 

He walked the damp, dirty, city streets, dusk falling over everything like dark blue velvet blotting out the sun.  The lights still shone in office buildings like twinkling slave drivers to the zombies in their cuticles, and cars sped past him like bullets, seemingly directionless.  He shoved his hands deep into the pockets of the well-creased slacks of his immaculate suit, his every hair in place, and he fingered the ring, quite a bit larger than he remembered.  She would like that, any woman would, but she was not materialistic, he knew better... But any bonus he could use would be in his favor.

 

His appearance was very much like his apartment, which was sparse and almost ascetic; he was obsessively clean, save for all the pictures of her.  He almost stopped dead center of the busy workday-end sidewalk, suddenly realizing that she was the mess in his life, the one thing he could not control, and that caused his palms to sweat despite the fresh autumn air, the drizzle of icy needles to his flesh, and his brain seized.

 

But finally, finally, it was time; he would not let anxiety and his OCD personality make him freeze up on what could be the chance at happiness for the rest of his life. He had to act like this was business and simply go for it, dammit.

 

Walking casually to her apartment building, the brick and mortar monolith with the huge glass doors, the shiny windows climbing into the atmosphere, and he rang the old lady above her.

 

The evening began with a buzz, not a bang.

 

In he strolled, the door clicking open after the old lady buzzed him in. He past the desk and guard, went to the elevators, whistling under his breath, the picture of cavalier, every hair still in place. Of course, no one could notice the slight beads of sweat upon his brow, or the way that his hand, hidden in his pocket seemed to tremor lightly then clench tight. He felt the ring. All was well; just as it was supposed to be.  Up the elevator and he waltzed right into her apartment with his copy of her key. She was drying her hair, just out of the shower, unable to hear or even feel anything amiss at first.

 

Then she felt it, either a slight change in air pressure or magnetism or maybe it was a draft off of his clothes, or a bit of heat from the hall. Whatever slight or subtle tingle she felt, she knew suddenly someone was with her or watching and she turned to see him just standing there. She screamed at this stranger in her apartment, her inner sanctuary; it was a violation. Millions of questions ran through her panic stricken mind, now fevered with adrenaline. 

 

Overwhelmed, his jaw worked, yet no words would come out of his mouth. Her reaction was so shocking and frightening, he found he had no clue as to what he should do next.

Fingers fumbling, he was trying to get the ring out of his pocket as first she threw her hair dryer at him, then grabbed her phone and dialing for help in one seemingly fluid motion like you'd see in something from Hollywood...and as she brought the phone to ear, he gasped, utterly incredulous.

This was not how it was supposed to go, dammit! This was not how it was supposed to be!

Horror and agony overtook him, then; she was rejecting him and she didn't even know him, could not possibly know how much he loved her, how much she meant to him!

It was just all too much. Everything was going way too fast, and as his sweaty, clammy fingers still slipped and fumbled around the ring, he got more frustrated. His hand slipped and shook and clenched as he reached for it, as if that would explain everything. As though the ring would magically make everything all right; all of this would be worth it, he knew, if he could just get hold of the Goddamned ring. 

But as quickly as these hopelessly hopeful romantic ideas shot through his head, something else in him took over. She was rejecting him! She was calling the police, acting as if he were a derelict wino thief or rapist or whatever kind of degenerate would wear a thousand dollar suit and walk right in her door; how dare she? And after all he'd put himself through for her, after losing this last job, and money, making his life a complete mess, all of this because of her!

His terror and deep regret, and a pain there was no word for all culminated into a monstrous rage, and suddenly, everything went blissfully black. His rage was uncontrollable and it was like his controlled mind snapped under its weight.

The next time he could see, he found himself over her limp body, his hands wringing and throtttling her already loose neck. Under his fingers, he could feel the tiny bones creak and crack as they shifted under his clenched red- and white-knuckles, now aching from the pressure. Strange protrusions were right under the thin skin of her delicate neck, and by the discoloration and her whole body's limpness told him she was gone.  She looked nothing like the beautiful, perfect creature he'd fallen in love with; she made a gruesome sight, her thick tongue stuck out like some swollen parasite, fresh blood now dribbling down her chin from where she'd bitten it almost in half.

He shook her, just a ragdoll of meat at this point, screaming and crying into her face, his tears, sweat, and saliva all raining down upon her.  He did not totally come back to himself, as though he'd been hovering behind his own body, watching all of this insanity unfold before him.  

He yelled at her then, "I loved you! I wanted you to have my children! I would have given you anything! ANYTHING!" 

His breathing sounded inhuman, subhuman, and through tears of frustration, of utter loss and sadness, through rage and an utter lack of comprehension, he continued screaming at her.

"Why did you have to act like that, huh? WHY DID YOU DIAL THE FUCKING COPS LIKE THAT? Like I'm some derelict off the street? No..."

He went on like this, his verbal assault letting the rest of the pressure out. 

"You STUPID bitch! Don't you know we were meant to be?!" He shrieked at her until his voice was hoarse, cried until he thought there were no more tears left; sobs shook his frame, and he could barely breathe.

Everything was ruined now; she had ruined everything!

But as he looked closer at what he'd done, he noticed the ring he had so carefully chosen at Tiffany's and suddenly the world swam before him in a starkly clarifying amnesiac moment... Insteat of the velvet box with a nice big diamond ring, there was a garrote, neatly curled on the floor next to her body.