“There! There they are! Each and every one of them. Go ahead, take them, denounce them, hell, commit each one to memory for all I care, just leave me.” Kenneth glanced at the letters bound tightly with a crimson ribbon lying harmlessly on the hard wood surface. His eyes were morbidly alive and his silence deafening. Catherine had surrendered her last splinters of happiness and he knew that there was nothing he could say that would torment her more than her own grieving over the loss of her precious stupid letters. She stood still and he watched her graceful countenance, bleached with sorrow, flooded with small hot tears. Her sturdy veil of stability that had not fallen so far had worn thin and transparent as gossamer failing further to hide her surrender to the oppression. However giving in to his true nature that unbearably broiled beneath his violent exterior he reached out a peaceful hand to comfort his newest and most regretful enemy in a last attempt of reconciliation.
“Don’t touch me you vile beast.” Catherine screamed as if his grazing touched had burned her like a candles flame. Swiftly as a panther he had her bonny neck in his vengeful grasp and bearing his ghastly sharp white teeth he spoke vehemently “I will do so whenever it pleases me.” Bewildered her eyes flashed large and fearful of what those steel hands could do should their grip tighten. Her heart beat swiftly like a wrens and she wilted like a flower over a flame at his searing breath. “What are you going to do, kill me? Is that all, your going to put me out of my misery? Go ahead, I dare you. ” She choked torpidly, her burgundy lips shuddering. He loosened his grip and stepped down to the invitation of murder even though his soul craved for the action.
“Lacking courage of you convictions as always I see.” She said haughtily fixing her intered collar. “And you still have know idea of my convictions, I see. He retorted grasping her wrist and pulling her back to him preventing her departure. “You wreak of death, you illness is livid and I hope it claims you before this winter has passed.” She said, her words dripping with detestment. “And then what?” said he. “And then… I shall envy you. For I would rather endure a million and one lashings and die a thousand and one deaths over than to see these letters, my letters, yellowing with antiquity among your putrid possessions. Come to think of it they are infected now, now that they have met your disgusting primal grasp, they are no longer any more sacred to me than used tissues, and I shall have to burn them like the disease ridden corpses they have become.” She said reaching for the matchstick box in the desk drawer. Kenneth swelled with anger and his hand that had been lowered in self control only moments earlier swatted the box out of her hand and in one wild and terrible motion swung meeting the soft bloodless skin of her face with the loud crack of thunder. “These, my sweet little dear,” he began with a fake sacharine melody, grasping the letters off the desk and shoving them in her face to insure she could not possibly mistake or forget the objects intended. “These, shall be acid the slowly that seeps thru and in your veins, eating its way thru your last threads of will and sanity everyday for the rest of your life until you die and decay in this prison. And in death your perhaps then they shall only finally know the heat of fire when lit aflame by your burning flesh in the bowels of hell amid the echoes of your screeching lamentations. For where you are destined my dear, there is no want for lighting matches.