Page 1 of My Sweet Regina

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Chapter One

I hate feeling like I’m fenced in because when you’re fenced in there’s no escape.

Mud walls.

Rocks.

A few sticks.

My tomb is a pit of hurt, agony, and betrayal.

It is cold.

And foreign.

It is a home without coziness and a welcome mat.

My final resting place.

Except…

I’m not dead yet.

I try to breathe, but the gash in my windpipe prevents me from doing so. I think about trying to scream, but even if I did or if I could, I know no one would hear me.

Gathering as much strength as I can muster up, I blink and roll my head to the side. It rests in between the top of my bicep and my shoulder blade and I blink again as I watch the crimson colored life flow out of me.

I am dying.

I am dying.

Love will be the death of me.

It came on in small doses.

Slowly.

With a knife, some force, and a few strangled breaths.

The sound of metal clinking against rocks throbs in my ears and I wince when Adam grunts and a shovel-full of cold, wet dirt lands on my stomach. My body convulses as the colds bleed through my clothes and seeps into my pores.

I keep thinking to myself; so this is how it ends?

This is how it ends?

I thought when a person dies they’re supposed to go out with a bang.

But no…

Not me.

I’m lying here alone.

In the middle of nowhere.

In a shallow, circular grave.

I’m bleeding.

I’m dying.

And my heart has been blown up into tiny, tattered pieces of confetti.

I swear I can feel Adam’s shadow blanket me with warmth as he hovers over me. I swear I can feel his moist lips against my neck and hear his deep, raspy voice whisper, “I love you.”

It’s a lie.

How dare he?

He’s a fabrication.

A walking, talking contradiction.

I know this now.

I wish I would have figured him out sooner.

I blame myself for not being able to see through the façade called his everyday life. I guess I’m paying for it now.

More than anything, I wish I could tell him, “Adam, my love, you were supposed to be my knight-in-shining-armor—not—my murderer.”

Chapter Two

Time…

Sometimes people think they I have so much of it.

They think they have so much of it so they waste it.

A minute here.

A minute there.

I’m one of those people. At least, I used to be. I used to think; well, there’s always tomorrow so don’t live for yesterday.

Now…

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