The Kiss of Betrayal.
At a point in my life seeing her like this, in this state of distress and agony would have made me want to rip apart the responsible limb by limb or anyone who even dared to think of doing this to her.
But today I was the one who did this to her. Her body so flawless and perfect now lay mattered with scars and burns. Her beautiful blonde hair was soiled with unimaginable fluids.
She sobbed begging me to end her agony. To kill her. But alas, death would be a luxury she did not deserve. Once upon a time I cherished her, and kissed the very ground she walked on.
Today I make her face the torture her father did. I used something she told me in confidence to kill her. I almost laughed at the irony.
A long time ago while we were hidden from the world, beneath cool sheets. A world of just us languorously enjoying each other. Secrets shared between kisses, over pillows.
Her father was a journalist. He was originally from a "seno" called Norilsk. A small village in Siberia, the Russian Federation. He was asked to take an in-depth interview on the workings of a limestone mine. He found out that in actuality it was a gold mine that had been taken under lease by the rich and influential Orekhovskaya family for 100 years. In the four months, he spent in the mine he had uncovered an entire illegal syndicate. Of forced human slavery and trafficking.
The syndicate lit his face on fire for printing too much information on a piece of paper. He succumbed to his injuries a day after. All the while they made his wife and daughter watch.
Perhaps she had truly loved me. But what she did to me I could and never would forget.
In a way, she was the first woman I had ever loved. So maybe what I did that day, the weakness I displayed was out of love for the woman I thought she was.
"Arriverderci bella mia."