Ophelia held her ring tightly to her chest as she stood in the pouring rain debating going back into the rundown apartment she shared with Jack. She saw him in her mind's eye, a shock with bleeding lips and pleading eyes. She felt like she didn't even know him anymore. She could've sworn she'd even heard him start to chuckle as she swiftly left the room.

She closed her eyes. She wouldn't be going back there.

But where else could she possibly go? There was her brother's but-

She heard the door up the steps of the fire escape. She held her breath as she pressed herself to the wall allowing the bricks to dig into her back. She stifled the urge to gasp in pain.

"Ophelia!" He called. A shiver went down her spine. "Ophelia!"

Please don't come down the steps, she prayed.

In truth, she was a very weak and shy person, she still didn't know how she ended up with Jack. She'd met him in high school. He'd been tall, awkward, and people usually avoided him because of his. . . Unusual personality. As the years went by, however, he'd grown more confident and seemed to display his strange ways with pride. He took a liking to the colors green and purple and started to wear suits in those colors. He started carrying a switchblade. Strangely, he even grew to be more intimidating though no one had any idea how.

One time, Ophelia had been careless and wandered down a dark alley. A man had pulled a gun on her and Jack saved her. By slitting his throat. That was how they'd met. After, Jack had asked her out to dinner and the rest was history.

Now, you must be asking what kind of idiot doesn't see the warning signs of a doomed relationship with a sociopath in this story. Ophelia would be trying to figure this out years later when she met him again on the rooftop of a condemned apartment complex.

She reached up to cover her scarred face with her hands, dropping the ring in the process. She waited until she heard him shut the door before starting to leave her spot. But then she remembered the ring.

The symbol that started it all.

She remembered the day she'd accepted him completely, the one day he'd smiled so honestly. It was his birthday. He'd been silent all day, playing with his old switchblade as he stared out the window. She'd tried to cheer him up. She'd baked him a cake, bought him a new switchblade, though she knew he'd never use it, he was too attached to the old one, and had even tried kissing him but he'd just push her aside and keep looking out the window. It seemed as though he was debating something. Finally, he slipped the switchblade back into the pocket of his old, purple coat and walked up behind her. He slipped his arms around her waist.

"You know, I have a lot of plans for the next five years."

She snorted. "Plans?"

"Okay, more like a general idea. Do you have any idea what my general idea is?"

She shook her head. She couldn't have cared less either. She was just happy to be together with him. She lived in the moment just as much as he did.

"I don't really know either. But it's big. And I just hope you'll be a part of it," at this point he opened his hand to show her what he'd been hiding inside. "Please say yes," he whispered.

She didn't. She couldn't. Instead she took the ring from him and slipped it on.

He turned her around and gripped her shoulders. "Are you sure?"

She wasn't but she nodded anyway. She'd worry about things later.

He'd told her that it was a symbol of how long they would be together: forever. Eternity. Even after death. She was his. The ring was just proof to show her and others.

She'd been happy then. She'd thought he was being romantic, telling her things like he would do anything to make her happy. She'd told him that she wanted him to stop worrying so much, to smile and just live. Now, nine months later, he was smiling, alright.

She knew he'd done it to make her feel better about her own scars. She knew it had been her own fault. But she still couldn't bear the sight of him despite the fact that she must look ten times worse. As she'd left, slowly backing away from him at first, too stunned to look away, she'd though she'd glimpsed the wounded look of a child who'd been so desperately trying to please a stern mother.

She knew about his past with his damn father and could understand his well hidden pain and yet she couldn't help but think of him with a small measure of contempt.

As much as he craved the pain of others, he craved his own to balance it out. He was always handing her the switchblade and begging her to hold it to his neck and when she gave in, he'd beg her to cut him "just a little" or at least hit him.

That wasn't to say that she couldn't think of him with love. Love was always present when she thought of him, more so even then the contempt.

Nothing with Jack had ever been simple.

And it had all started with that fucking proposal.

She almost smiled at her jumbled thoughts. She'd always had a weird sense of humor.

So should she go back for the ring?

In the end, she gave up. She crouched down next to the large puddle and found the ring almost immediately. She straightened up as she slipped the ring back onto her finger.

Goodbye, Jack, she thought as she walked away from her old apartment without much of an idea of where to go or what to do.

Behind her, she thought she heard the sounds of loud and obnoxious cackling but she couldn't be sure over the sounds of the thunder and lightening.

This was just a story that I wrote on the spur of the moment, inspired by the story Strings. Ophelia isn't nearly as normal as she seems here. If I write a sequel you'll see what I mean. Please tell me if you want a sequel or if you even liked it at all.