Red High Heel

It was a cold bitter day in 1850s Paris. The sun hidden and covered with gray, dark, heavy clouds just waiting to drop buckets of water on the people in the city. I sat in a chair turned towards the window staring out blankly with no expression thinking about what I'm going to do tonight. I've planned out every nook and cranny of what could or would happen, what I'm going to do, and how she might react. Will she scream, cry, kick, or punch when I kill her? I know she will be surprised to see me after so long after what she did to me but she will pay.

You may think I'm mad, a lunatic, a psychopath, a madman, but I'm not. She did me wrong by cheating on me. I was going to ask her to marry me that cold and bitter night. That should have been my sign, the coldness, the tense atmosphere, just waiting for something to happen. She was surprised as anyone's partner would be when they get caught cheating with another. I was supposed to be on a business trip in England that night and not due until the following week but I was actually planning how to ask her and setting everything up. But that's all over now, what's done is done, she sealed her fate when she chose to betray me.

I was watching her from the roof tops of one of the tall building around her apartment, waiting, watching, thinking. I witnessed her walk up the steps with many bags on her shoulders in her high heels *click click* and saw her red hair whip back because of the chilling night wind that makes you want to curl up on the couch with hot chocolate and read a book. She stepped inside and shut the thick brown door with a thump. I moved from the rooftop and silently made my way to the street and up to her fire escape. I knew by now she would be taking a bath to relax over the stressing day of shopping. I silently opened the window and looked around, no one in sight. Excellent. I climbed through the window and hid in the shadows and again, waited. Cassandra eventually came out of the bathroom wearing her night gown and looked around as if sensing that someone was standing in the shadows waiting to make her pay for the pain she caused. She relaxed as if her mind was tricking her into believing she was safe, she wasn't. When she walked out of the room I looked around and spotted what I was looking for, her blood red high heels, perfect. I tiptoed over to them and picked one up and slinked back into the shadows and waited.

She came back in, shut the door, and walking back to her bed when I took action. I sprang out of the shadows and she squealed. "W-wh-what are you doing here Leonardo?" she breathed still scared and wary as to why I was in her room, let alone her apartment. "For revenge," I simply stated right before I launched at her, knocking her to the ground as she screamed. I raised the red high heel and drove it into her pale throat. Again and again I did this each time her cries got quieter. Her red, crimson blood was all over the red high heel, matching the color. Hmm, I guess that why they call it blood red. She gurgled and sputtered while tears leaked from her even paler face; yet, I watched as the life left her now dull green eyes and her cold, black heart stopped beating. Finally, that was taking all day. I grabbed a rag from her bathroom and cleaned up the dark, iron smelling blood and washed my hands.

*****

I was in my boat, waddling in the cold water with Cassandra beside me, quiet for once in her short life. I had chains tied around her slender frame and cements also on them. When I was far enough from civilization I took her corpse and dumped the pathetic body in the water watching as it sunk further and further, deeper and deeper into the murky water that was polluted with the waste of these fiends they call civilized, caring humans. Rowing back to shore with the red high heel, I thought "Now, onto that low-life of a street artist with which Cassandra frolicked with. I have a wonderful plan for him."