Snakes

"This is how you killed her, isn't it?" yelled Gary. Rob was stunned. "You pushed her out of this window, didn't you? Bastard! You bastard! I loved her! She was mine!" Rob's tumour of rage exploded. He leapt forward, knocking Gary to the ground. The poker skidded across the hall beyond the door. Rob hit and hit and hit, until Gary's protests ceased. Until the snake was stilled. Rob kept hitting until his bloodied hands hurt, bellowing out foul curses and despaired cries. He kept hitting until he was physically unable to continue, his body racked with sobs and his fingers broken. He lay next to the snake for a long time, weeping. Just before dawn, when the full moon lay fading high in the sky, and the air was chilled, Rob got up and walked shakily over to the library window. He held the folds of his robe in place with one hand, and reached out to close the window with the other. An icy cold hand grabbed his arm from outside. A vice grip. Rob opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came. He watched as a familiar ruby wedding ring on the strong lean hand that held him bled its precious crimson, veins of red snaking over the cold ghostly hand and over his own arm. He finally released his pent-up scream, just as he was hoisted out of the window. ***

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