Author's note: drabble based on the VAST music video, "Pretty When You Cry," written for razycrandomgirl at livejournal.
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i.
Sitting in the back seat, she leans her head against the window, eyes closed and breathing slow. He glances back at her in the rearview mirror and smiles. He imagines parking the car and holding her tight, a calloused hand reaching deep inside of her.
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ii.
He kills her on a Sunday night, in a clearing in the forest just sixty miles from the main road. The night is dark and the only light that's present comes from the headlights of his car; it illuminates the ground like spotlights. Hefting her body over the stump of a broken oak, he runs his hands over the crest of her ribcage, her half-torn cloak. Fingertips reach the red knot at her throat, and he rips it off quickly. The cloak falls, and there's nothing there but bare breasts and bruises, and the flaky, lacy pattern of dried blood on her skin.
"You're sick!" she said, when he begged her to kiss him, to touch him one last time. Shadows fell to the side of her face, and that was when he hit her: with the back of his hand, striking fast. She fell and he fell, and there was nothing he could do.
Her dead eyes are open when he kisses her softly on her throat.
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iii.
The police find their bodies in early morning, the soft gray light streaking through the great black trees. His head is in her lap, and when they look closer, they find the gun still in his hand, his short brown hair matted with blood.