For all the Valentine’s Days that have gone…less than perfect. Now keep in mind this story does not take place on Valentine’s Day. BUT there are times when Charlaine Harris wrote characters behaving badly. I would read, shut the book ad think, “is that the reaction I would have had?” More likely than not, it was a resounding, NO!.
Having to read Sookie’s annoying, “I’ll think on it tomorrow” bullshit. I can’t, it’s just too much, am I right? I truly think this is how Sookie would respond in this situation. Let’s see if you can guess where in the series they are. Please read at your own risk. Read that Title, again. 😉
I highly recommend the music while reading. Can you guess my inspiration? LOL! Also, please thank the amazing Gyllene for the beautiful banner! You are so talented girl, thank you!
The glass crashed over me like confetti on New Years’ Eve, shimmering tiny razors that cut deliciously into my clenched knuckles. It felt so good to not feel anything in that moment, other than my skin being sliced up by an expensive headlight. My heart, my trust was crushed and my emotions were in the driver’s seat of an insane roller-coaster.
The ache was too much to control, so instead I channeled the chaos of my shattered faith into this beloved piece of steel. I felt like I could fill ten books with excuses like, ‘he’s probably not cheating on me by drinking from others’. Or ‘I don’t know what he’s doing when I’m not with him, better not ask him’.
“Ugh!” I used my wedged heels still strapped to my feet to kick at the remaining shards lodged into the casing. I thought the trusty baseball bat that I kept in my trunk would do the trick of disassembling the red she-devil on four wheels.
“Motherfucker!” I guess this was going to have to be a complete hands on endeavor. Lucky me, I had all the time in the world to devote to my wounded souls assignment.
I griped the bat tighter as I walked to the back of the sports car. The blemish free rear tail light meet a spectacular end as its crystal ruins littered the concrete. It seemed that the tempered glass fairy had sprinkled fragmented shards all over the driveway in small collective explosions. I smirked at the insurance nightmare in store for the owner, I hope this damage hurts that philandering bastard chances of getting the repairs covered.
I closed my eyes at the memory onslaught of what I had walked into. “Oh baby…”
“No!” I shouted, I reopened my eyes to narrow them at my next victim.
Grasping the knife in my hand felt right. I had swiped it from the kitchen on my way out of the house. My fingers taped one by one up the grip. In my mind, a pear knife was the best cutting utensil in the butcher block. Small, sharp, easy to handle, especially if a person is inexperienced with a blade. It’s not like a butcher knife that you could lose control of and accidently slice yourself instead.
A pear knife was my weapon and utensil of choice. I held the knife close to my face to inspect the metal, seeing the blade in the exterior lights on the lawn I grin at the glint. It’s practically a scalpel. This is where all my recent practice carving pumpkins for Merlotte’s Halloween party is about to pay off in spades.
With renewed will, I return to the task at hand. So far the exterior of the expensive import had sustained multiple dents and dings from the old slugger. Mirrors hung precariously by a wires and the once sleek soft top looked as if a tiger had ripped out of the steal and fabric cage to escape into the night. Where was Quinn? This is when I actually needed him to transform into his animal form and be useful.
The once cherry red, polished door was unlocked. What was he thinking? I clucked my tongue and shook my head in disapproval. He was careless with all his most precious assets.
“Asset,” I whispered disgusted, my lip involuntary snarled at the term.
“I am not a fucking asset,” I hiss out, my rage boiling in my veins. I looked down at myself, my yellow sundress with white peep toe wedges seemed ridiculous but I also knew I looked cute. Maybe after this little event I’ll be known as his nightmare dressed like a daydream. I smiled wickedly and laughed at the beat to shit, big boy toy that he drove everywhere he could. A few stands oh hair fell across my brow. I swiped my now bloody hand across my forehead to push back my unruly locks. Smearing blood on myself in the process.
Climbing none so gracefully onto the front seat of the Corvette I inhaled the expensive black leather. Running my fingertips lightly along the soft surface brings back thoughts of sitting here, in fear that an accident would befall me with the maniac driver behind the wheel.
“Sorry baby, it’s not you. It’s him. Tonight, I am using you to send a message. There was no other way to make him hurt.” I shift on the seat to find the button that allowed the ragged top to descend slowly into the back compartment, leaving plenty of room for me to maneuver uninhibited. Not that I left much of the soft top to shield his long blonde tresses from the elements, but he’ll discover that later. I barked out a crazed laugh.
I could have shown him incredible things, now I’m drunk on jealously. My vision is tinted jade with resentment, I wish I had some gasoline. That would do the trick.
“Oh wait, I do!” I stop cutting my masterpiece to clap my hands together. Somehow, I am getting more excited by this new discovery than I thought I ever would. When the mower needed more fuel today, I was annoyed to have to run such a messy errand. But now I’m thrilled that I didn’t put it off.
“Mmmmm, oh yeah, baby!”
Another unwelcome memory halts my progress again as I cover my ears with my hands, attempting to block out the memory. He was feeding off of her. On the bed. At a party that he knew I was attending any moment!
I loved him!
I love him.
Choking back a shaky sob as my heart constricts again. I knew he would make me feel so much betrayal.
My thoughts are turning more negative by the moment. How would he feel if he caught me feeding someone else? Fucking someone else? Maybe I should pay Bill a visit after this.
Is this his way of telling me we are over?
That he is done.
After all, no better way to say ‘I can’t stand you,’ then to have said person walk into an affair.
He is my husband, mine!
Leaning back against the steering wheel, I take a steading breath. A loud honk escapes into the dark night, but I don’t care. I feel numb as I admire my handiwork. Seeing my name ripped into his leather seats so haphazardly is exhilarating. He may not appreciate how long this masterpiece took to create, but I’ll always have the memory of this satisfaction. Wish I had my phone to take a picture.
Where was my Eric?
An audience has slowly began to spill out of the cheater’s house. Nevada’s vampires are cheering me on, encouraging my outrageous behavior with glee and mischief in their voices. Thalia, does not look pleased in the slightest, but she never does. I doubt she could understand why a girl would choose to destroy her Bonded’s treasured Corvette over a drunken girl.
Well, fuck her very much! Thalia will never understand my pain.
Squaring my shoulders, I stare at the crowd and smirk at the Felipe de Castro’s minions. Exiting the car quickly, I run over to my old reliable car to grab the bright red gasoline can. Unscrewing the black cap, I savor the strong, bitter smell.
The aroma is my very own salvation.
I’m well aware that I knock and tumble the can around, leaving a slippery trail all the way up the driveway. The fuel sloshes over my bare legs as I zero in on the battered Corvette.
I don’t give a shit.
A cleansing feeling rushes over me like a cool spring, and I empty the flammable liquid over the battered and bruised car. Reaching inside my dress for the lighter I had hidden in my bra, I register that my palms are now dripping with fuel.
It doesn’t stop me. It’s gonna go down in flames.
“Fuck!” I huff.
“Sookie, Stop!” Eric barks from the open garage.