Kiss It Better
He sat in his grey, 6ft by 8ft prison cell, staring at the door from his position against the wall. Three months he'd been here. 90 days of nightmares and unwittingly replaying the scene over and over in his head. It was the single worst day of his life, he didn't regret what he'd done, but wished that something could have been done to save his true love's life.
His cell was empty, save for a metal slat bed with what must have been the thinnest mattress he'd ever slept on, a single shelf holding his clothing, a toilet and a basin. There was nothing to distract him from that night three months ago, and he let out an almighty sigh as he saw the familiar and unwelcome images flash before him again, as if it were a movie, screening daily for his own personal torture.
The twenty-nine year old resident at the city's main hospital had arrived home late. He pulled up his driveway no more than 20 minutes later than usual to a front door smashed and lying in pieces in the entrance way to the home he shared with his wife, and his wife lying in a pool of her own blood in the kitchen.
Carlisle had rushed to her side only to find seven gunshot wounds in her torso. It was obvious she would not make it for much longer. Distraught by the fact that there was nothing he could do to help her, he collapsed next to the love of his life's body, wrapped her securely in his arms and shook with despair.
Out of the corner of his puffy, tear-flooded eyes, Carlisle saw something move, but his attention was directed towards his wife as she stirred.
Esme opened her eyes, squinting as though it might help her with the unbearable pain she felt. Tears sprang from her eyes as she saw Carlisle above her, eyes red and tear-stained and they both began to cry, lying in each other's embrace on the kitchen floor.
Minutes later, she summoned enough energy for her last words to her husband.
''Kiss it all better, I'm not ready to go. It's not your fault, love, You didn't know. You didn't know.''
''I didn't know what, love?'' he replied, confused
''Charles.''
Carlisle knew little about Charles Evenson, it was a subject he knew not to bring up even though he so desperately wanted to find out more about him. He knew that he was an old flame of Esme's, they dated for 7 months during her first year of college but she broke it off after he started getting abusive.
He suspected that Esme had omitted a lot of the truth when she'd reluctantly told him about Charles, but hadn't pushed it because he could see the pain it caused her to tell him even that much.
Esme closed her eyes again and Carlisle felt her body relax. He kissed her mouth gently, as more tears rolled down his face, landing on Esme as he sobbed over her almost lifeless body. He reached for her hands and was shocked by how cold they already were.
Looking around him at what would later become a murder investigation scene, he noticed the broken bottles and china at the bottom of the wall opposite the kitchen.
Esme must have tried to fight him off he thought proudly, even though it was in vain.
He continued his evaluation of the room and saw blood drops from the kitchen to the French doors leading outside, Esme must have done some damage to the man.
Carlisle also spotted a gun, lying on the ground between the doors and his wife's body, the weapon used to kill his wife.
Carlisle vowed that he would avenge Esme, return the favour to the man who had done this to his wife. He told himself that he would make things right, that everything would be alright.
He stared at the gun on the ground for quite some time, but couldn't bring himself to leave his wife's body lying there, not when she had mere minutes of life left in her.
It broke his heart to see her in his arms, limp and cold with her eyes closed, obviously in pain.
He placed a kiss on her forehead, then trailed his way down the left side of her face and up the right. He then kissed gently down her petit nose and gave her lips the kiss to end all kisses. It was so full of passion and he conveyed all his love and adoration for the woman lying, now dead, in his arms in that one kiss.
Sobs overtook his body, he was shaking uncontrollably and tears were spilling with no abandon.
He squeezed his wife's tiny frame closer to his chest in an attempt to settle his hyperventilating yet it only made the heaving of his chest deeper and more painful. In a haze of grief and somewhat disbelief, he gently released Esme and laid her on her back on the kitchen floor.
Carlisle stood on shaky legs and made his way towards the gun which had been sitting there staring at him as he broke down, mocking him.
He bent down and picked up the black glock.
He moved it from hand-to-hand, weighing it, inspecting it.
Carlisle was not a stranger to holding a gun. His best friend was the Chief of Police Charlie Swan and the two often went to the shooting range for 'male-bonding', he was not a bad shot either.
The semi-automatic pistol had a magazine capacity of 15, 7 of which were now embedded in his wife's body, one for every month that Esme and Charles had been together. That left 8 10mm bullets, and Carlisle knew exactly where he was going to put them.
He stormed out of the open French doors that led to their backyard.
The garden was one of Esme's most special accomplishments. It truly was a piece of art.
From the trial of blood splatter, Carlisle ascertained that Charles was still on the property, in his state, telling from the amount of blood that he'd lost, Charles would not have managed to climb the 8ft brick walls surrounding the house.
Following the trail of blood, Carlisle found Charles just behind Esme's African Marigolds- ironically, marigolds implied pain and grief- lying spread eagle on the lush green grass. Carlisle couldn't help but think, in his moment of rage and anger, that his position was as though he was surrendering himself to Carlisle.
Lifting the gun up with both hands and pointing it at Charles' chest at point blank range, Carlisle shot him eight times in the chest.
He stepped back and watched Charles' eyes roll into the back of his head, dropped the gun and returned to his wife's side.
The faint sound of sirens in the distance not registering in his mind, which was now focussed on his dead wife in their kitchen. Carlisle walked through the door and collapsed next to his true love, placed his head on her bloody stomach and succumbed to the numbness.
Kiss It Better by He Is We
He sits in his cell,
And he lays on his bed.
Covers his head and closes his eyes.
He sees a smoking gun,
And the coward he ran.
And in his arms is the bleeding,
Love of his life.
And she cries,
''Kiss it all better,
I'm not ready to go.
It's not your fault love,
You didn't know, you didn't know.''
Her hands are so cold,
And he kisses her face.
And says "Everything will be all right".
He noticed the gun,
And his rage grew inside.
He said "I'll avenge my lover tonight".
And she cried,
Kiss it all better,
I'm not ready to go.
It's not your fault love,
you didn't know, you didn't know.
Now he sits behind prison bars,
25 to life and she's not in his arms.
He couldn't bring her back with a bullet to the heart,
Of the back of a man and tore his world apart.
He was only a memory,
All it is, is a memory.
hey, hey.
He cries,
Stay with me until I fall asleep, Stay with me.
Stay with me until I fall asleep, Stay with me.
Stay with me until I fall asleep, Stay with me.
Stay with me until I fall asleep, Stay with me.
Kiss it all better,
I'm not ready to go.
It's not your fault love,
You didn't know, you didn't know.
(Kiss it all better.)
Stay with me until I fall asleep, Stay with me.
Stay with me until I fall asleep, Stay with me.
(kiss it all better.)
Stay with me until I fall asleep, Stay with me.
Stay with me until I fall asleep, Stay with me.
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