Heart

She was sure that this would be the end of it. When she ripped out his heart, she was sure that it would kill him. It had always worked before. When she was done with a man it was the kindest thing to do. Rather than let him suffer a life without her, why not just kill him? Some men, the one’s who lived for a few seconds afterward and had the wherewithal to realize what had happened, actually thanked her. They understood. They knew the mercy she was granting them. The only way to truly sever the bond, permanently and with any kind of assurance, was death.

Sure she loved some of them, but they all ended the same. Some would grow too old, some would just burn out from her heat. None of them could make it last for an eternity, not the way she needed it to. That was fine by her. She had learned to deal with it. She had her methods for getting the temporary satisfaction she needed. She knew the cost. The lives that she would have to go through. She accepted her fate. Most of them did too, not that she gave them much of a choice.

She had been here before, too many times. She used to keep count, a few centuries ago she stopped. The patterns were all too recognizable. He was starting to bore, his eyes had started to wander. It was hardly her fault. It was hardly his fault either. Her curse was to never change. The curse of men is that they always change. That’s just the way things were. He was getting older, he wanted a woman who would change with him. A woman who would grow with him… get older with him. That was something she could never offer.

The time had come. He kissed her gently as he released their embrace. He knew he would always think of her. She was special. Even if he didn’t know how special, he knew that she would always be in his heart. He knew their souls would always be intertwined within their memories. But once he had realized the distance that had been growing between them he simply had to let her go. He didn’t know of course, how could he? She never told anyone until the end. Sometimes not even then. She had hoped this one would end quickly. It was always difficult when they took their time dying. She had little comfort to offer usually. Especially when they realized what she had done.

She always went through the back. While rib cages were not a problem for her, she felt it was quicker and somehow less painful for the men. His touch finally broke from hers and he turned around. She didn’t waste time. She slipped her hand just to the left of his spine and pulled swiftly as she felt her hand fill with the pumping organ. He turned his head slightly and gave a wry smile. She just caught the edge of the upward curve in his lips. Bewildered at the still living man before her she gaped slightly.

“Thank you.” He said. “That was always the weakest part of me.”

And then he walked away.

Tags: fiction, Flash fiction, Short story, writing