Revenge to The Devil

A few days ago, I went home to find him, but the guard told me that I was no longer allowed to enter the gate. Seeing the worried expression on the guard's face, I had no choice but to sit on the next stone, waiting for him.

At dusk, several people came out, carrying a pile of things, and threw them in the garbage nearby. On that early autumn evening, the wind blew through my thin dress. I sat on my knees trembling with tears, picking up the things in front of the garbage gingerly. There were his cherished paintings, wilted flowers, the broken orange lamp and the sheets which we used.

He threw away everything that filled my precious memory. I'd never seen a man who could put down his beloved things in such a heartless way. In such a determined way, he told me that no one could stop what he wanted to do. Likewise, no one could change what he didn't want to do.

Now that he had decided, I should respect him. Because I loved him, I would disappear from his world as he expected. When I left, I looked at my window, where the lace curtain used to hang. The room was as empty as our lives.

Dragging my ankle, I walked on the road, which I had passed by thousands of times. The doctor said that I had an ankle injury when I was a child, so it was fragile and made it worse. There was a small possibility that I would recover completely.

Hatred was like a wound. When it didn't hurt, you might forget about it. But you couldn't guess when the aching would suddenly remind you of a painful memory. You could numb the pain, but you could never deny its existence.

It was right of him to distrust me. If I could raise a knife after passionate love, it was uncertain that I would raise a gun towards his heart after several years. Maybe separation was the best relief for me. I should let love and hatred be buried as time passed by.

"Does it make sense to look at him in that way?" I didn't see Steven sit down opposite me until he started talking. I knew it didn't make sense. Indeed, I was trying to control myself, but, I missed him.

When I opened my eyes, I expected to go downstairs to have breakfast with him. At night, I had no thoughts to do anything but wait for him on a strange sofa in an even stranger room. When thinking of never seeing him again, I didn't want to go on the next day. So, I went there every day to watch him from a distance.

Steven held my hands and wrapped them in his palms. "Desiree, I have contacted the best bone doctor. As for an air ticket, I have bought it, it is for next Monday," he said.

"He has been in a bad mood recently, extremely terrible. I am concerned about him," I said, I was still staring at the door, where he left.

"How do you know?" Steven asked me.

"When he is in a bad mood, he always chooses a dark shirt subconsciously. These days he wears black. When he is having a dilemma about choices, he is used to igniting a cigarette and smoking it slowly. When he makes a decision, he puts it out it with his fingers," I said.

"Forget about him," he said.

I didn't know how many times I had written it. Anyway, it was overlapped by the dark blue design. No one could tell what the words on it were, except me. Jonathan was right, love was reflected not by words, nor my thoughts.

To him, my love was no more than his hatred for me. Before going abroad, I went back to our home again. The guard still told me that the same sentence, "Sorry, you are not allowed to enter this door again."

"I know," I handed him the CD that I had recorded all night and said, "Please give it to Mrs. Emma, and tell him that when he is in a bad mood, let him listen to it."

It was a soothing piano song I played, which he loved to listen to when he was upset. Whether he needed it or not, it's the only thing I could do for him. As I left, I took one last look at the villa where we had lived for more than eight years. It was so splendid.

I had never looked carefully before. I used to think that cream cake was crazy, but now I recollected the cake on my eighteenth birthday, which I swallowed with tears, it was sweet.

If I could go back to the most blissful moment, it was on the night of my eighteenth birthday, when I could still watch him and listen to his footsteps.

After a long walk, I turned back to see the window of his study. I couldn't see it clearly because of the sunshine. But I could imagine his eyes, which were hopeless and heartless. I raised my head to keep my tears from running down, leaving him one last smile.

"I am leaving! I will disappear in front of you if it is what you expect. "Please don't miss me," I said softly.

When I entered the security checkpoint, I was still seeking any corner of the airport obstinately.

It was obvious that he wouldn't come, but I still hoped.

"You needn't hold me, but just let me see you one last time, to let me know the color of your clothes, whether creamy white or not," I whispered. Turning around in frustration, I inhaled deeply and followed Steven towards the boarding gate. With each step, a wave of agony struck my heart.

From that moment on, I would face my life alone. Future? No one could predict it, so it was hopeful! When I was with him, I had never planned my future, which was a dream out of my reach. When leaving him in desperate suffering, suddenly, I found I had nothing but the future!

Time was a wonderful thing, which could not only heal deep wounds but also soothe the pain.