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Picture Perfect
By
Rebellious_Soul

Picture Perfect

A picture tells a thousand words, but can hide the darkest truths.

A picture perfect moment and such a lovely gown of pure white, glamorously gliding over the floor as she spun around. Twirling into strong arms, surrounded by a sea of faces, all of which smiled. Genuine happy faces that looked on, joyful expressions that overshadowed the two dancing. A blissful scene between them and the crowd, it blurred at the edges and the flowing music began to sound rhetoric and hollow.

Soon the song was over, the crowd was appeased as was he, but she looked away in dismay. No one notices as no one cares, not even the ones who shared her blood as they surrounded and engulfed her with praise and cheerful emotions. Such emotions echoed through her; she felt nothing more than a porcelain doll, an elegant exterior, with a vast empty interior.

The edges began to tunnel into darkness, and a low thud filled the space louder and louder with each passing second. Then another joins the girl with a smile, eyes bright and bewildered. A hand was offered and wasn't left hanging. A precious moment that lit her face up and onlookers of her kin glared in turn.

Everything took on a glassy look, the man separating the two and the girl yelling at him for it was only a dance. The moment rewound back to the dancing as she merely stared at the screen watching the moment unfold again and again. The music merely in her mind as she remembered as the nearby clock on the wall ticked each second away. The time was late; she didn't have to turn her head to see that it was well past midnight but far from morning.

The door behind clicked unlock, and the man in the scene stumbled into the room, the door slamming behind him but no reaction from her as she sat on the sofa. The light in the kitchen flicked on, and he plundered the fridge for some beer whereas he already had several too many. He was covered head to toe in dirt and grime, adding the smell of alcohol on top of the sweat from labor gave him such a horrid odor.

"Oh, what? Not going to tell me to take a shower even? Sweetcheeks you can only give me the silent treatment for so long." He took a swig from the dark bottle he held cherishing. "After all, you brought this upon yourself, I was good to you was I not? I treated you as fairly as I could, gave what I could, hell, I fucked you nicely didn't I?"

He slammed the bottle down onto the counter nearly shattering the bottom, "this worked! We worked! The couple everyone envied, they wanted to be us! Why couldn't you just accept that and be happy you fucking bitch!"

She remained unresponsive that ebbed on his nerves. "Answer me when I am addressing you!" He stormed over to where she sat, her eyes unwavering from the screen almost trancelike as the scene played over once again. He grabbed her hand none too gently holding up to her face. The ring on her icy finger sparkled in the dim lighting. "Do you see this? This stood for forever! Wasn't this what you wanted!" He released her hand, and it flopped onto her lap.

He watched the scene a few times, "What did you want, cunt! I gave you everything!" He slapped her across the face knocking her over. "Shit, no my love, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you; you're my one and only." He stumbled over himself to pull her back upright. He cupped her chin and pulled her face to look at him.

"Look at me, tell me you do love me. I love you; I have to know do you love me?" Her eyes bore past him, unblinking, unseeing of the face before her. His grip tightened to the point she felt fragile in his hand, "you loved that bitch! What did she have that I did not?" He spat at the screen when the other dancer came into view. "I have the money to support you, I have the ability to give you children, I had your family's approval!" The rhythmic sounds of the clock answered him. He growled and raised his hand, forgetting he held the bottle within it. He momentarily hesitated when he went to strike her again causing the bottle to fly out of his grip and smashing into the clock.

His hands shook, and his eyesight blurred, but he just barely caught the sound of her voice, but it came from the television. He scrambled for the remote and turned up the volume. His heart sank into his stomach.

"Oh, my husband, not a day goes by that I don't regret living this horrid life I had been placed in. This scene summed it up quite elegantly; this was never what I wanted. I didn't want you, I never chose you, my mother did. She forced me to for she would have disowned me if I hadn't. I have been living a lie because of her and because of you. Every day I felt nothing but a hollow shell until her. She filled me with love; she was the one I was supposed to be with for all eternity, but now you robbed me of that twice. Once in this moment when I was forced to marry you, and then again moments before I recorded this. Only the latter was more permanent. You were a good choice, you were the smart choice that's as much as I ever summed you up for, but I wanted to follow my heart and so I shall. You dug one hole already; I want mine right next to hers."

The scene rewound once again, and the message played out her musical tone, and he watched it play out until morning; the picture perfect memory.
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