silence is lingering in the room they were in, the only sounds audible being their breathing. it was.. a calming, soothing silence. the peace after a storm. just that nothing was alright, and practically the storm was still raging inside her. the young girls crimson tinted lips curl up into an awfully angry looking smile. the smile youâd give someone who had just fucked up real bad. and oh, he did. as amalie takes in another sharp breath heâs taking a step forward â perhaps in order to calm her down, to ease her up, so she wouldnât be so mad. but as his hand is reaching for hers she gives him a death glare, moving her hand away slowly, as if in daze, almost. â â donât touch me. I hate you, just donât touch me, got it? â  she snarls her words, trying to keep her voice steady, trying to keep herself together. I hate you. Such harsh words coming from lips as delicate as her own. I hate you. As if heâd believe her words after she had spent so much time with him, after whispering sweet words into his ear whenever she got the chance. But she did hate him, even though she wished to just feel apathetic about it, to just not care. Sometimes lying is better than spilling the truth, sometimes itâs better to just keep the facade of happiness up instead of crushing the hazy dream like bubble that is love. Amalie forgave a lot, she always did, but hearing that it wasnât just one time that he had cheated on her, but that it was actually a repetitive occurrence wasnât easy to take in. Which is why there had been yelling, throwing a lamp at him while she was at it. Calling him every name she could even think of. And despite him telling her over and over again that he was sorry she didnât believe it one bit. Not one bit. And as the petite female had pulled her hand away to prevent him from touching her he did the same, that is, until he laid his index finger under her chin, more or less forcing her to look at him. All she wanted was for him to leave. To leave and never even dare to get too close to her ever again. Heâs speaking, though. Again, telling how sorry he was, trying to fix his fuck ups with sweet words, âit wasnât love, it was just sex.â That wasnât making anything better now, was it? Amalie was still angry, on the verge of just breaking his nose, heâd deserve it. But heâs not thinking of leaving, sheâs sure that he thinks he can fix it, that it will all be good, and that Amalie will pretend nothing ever happened. So, as sheâs not flinching away from his touch he might take it the wrong way. Might have been thinking that sheâd agree to .. things. As heâs pressing her up against the wall sheâs clearly trying to push him away, but how could someone as small as her be able to do such thing? Heâs much stronger, and even after countless tries of telling him to leave her alone he didnât. And that was the moment something in her head just clicked, something told her that this one thing was the only way to get rid of him. Desperately her hand is reaching for the bottle on the table next to her, and she has it. Firmly wrapping her slender fingers around it before sheâs smashing the bottle against his head as hard as she could manage. That has him stumbling back, and as he hits the bed heâs falling onto it, his hand pressing onto the wound the bottle â it broke, of course, leaving pieces of it across the roomâs floor â had left. Blood. There was blood. Amalie could just run out, but her anger and the sadness are taking over. Instead of leaving and never looking back sheâs slowly moving to him. Sheâs walking smoothly, like a cat trying to attack and kill its prey. Thereâs not even the slightest spark in her eyes, she looks more or less as if controlled by something else. Heâs .. just there, looking at her, maybe there was fear in his eyes. Well, he should be scared. As the younger finally reaches him sheâs smiling, it doesnât look angry, it doesnât look.. like anything, itâs just a smile that spread on her lips. Leaning down sheâs taking a hold of his shirt, firmly clenching her fists around the fabric, and with all the strength she could summon up sheâs throwing him from the bed right to the floor. A groan is leaving his lips as his back hits the hard ground, but she doesnât care. Thereâll be much more pain in only a matter of a few minutes. And as heâs laying on the ground sheâs settling herself on top of him. His head tips as she leans in, running her fingers across his jawline, giving the illusion of being done, as if she is about to apologize in his probably favorite form. When his lips curl into a knowing smile her own smile vanishes and her fingers move up, sheâs burying her hands in his hair, but instead of kissing him her upper body moves back, using the hold she has on his hair to lift his head, only to smash it to the hard ground. She does that one, two, three, four times. Thereâs blood, a puddle of blood right beneath his head, heâs still alive. He didnât pass out yet, but he struggles breathing. Which each breath the tremble gets worse, and Amalie finds it almost .. amusing. â â clinging to life, donât you? let me help you let go, baby. â her voice sounds to tender and sweet, while his eyes are filled with fear. Fearing for his life is the right thing to do at this point. Fingers are tracing his collarbones before sheâs letting both her hands wrap around his throat. â â do you want to say anything? before I add pressure, I mean. who wouldâve thought the stupid little girl you just used would kill you, right? isnât it funny? âBut he stays silent, looking at her as if heâs begging her to just let go, To just let him live. No. She wouldnât. Sheâs gotten so far now. Adding pressure now. Never had Amalie felt so powerful, she was taking someoneâs breath away, quite literally. The fact that he kept his eyes fixed on her only made it better, because now that he was trying to gasp for her with her hands firmly adding pressure to his throat a almost pleased smile is creeping up onto her face. Sheâs wondering, though. How long will he last? The answer comes sooner than sheâd like it. Another last try to gasp for air and his eyes roll back. No further tries to breathe followed. But because Amalie wants to make sure heâs dead the pressure on his throat remained for about another 30 seconds. Only then sheâs taking her hands back. Leaning down the young girl is pressing a kiss to his lips, followed by a quite chuckle. â â you just gave up trying. another few seconds and I wouldâve let you go. I hope you go hell, darling. â whispered words against his ear, not sweet ones as she usually had done. And after, after sheâs just getting up from him, taking a look at the mess. Glass everywhere. Blood. And a dead body. And because that isnât enough already sheâs walking over to the counter where a knife was resting. Sheâs seen something in a documentary once. And she was dying to try it. So with the knife in her hand sheâs now kneeling down next to him. â â let me make you smile. â with those words being said sheâs shoving the knife into his mouth, resting the sharp edge at the left corner of his mouth. And cut. The same thing followed on the other side, of course. Chelsea grin. Amalie didnât care if she was caught or not, thus the knife is dropping to the floor, sheâs getting up, and without taking another look back sheâs leaving the scene.Â
