Stuff of Nightmares: A Collection of Short Horror Stories

Together, Forever

“When are you going to tell her, Zach?"

Zach kissed the naked girl beside him and then nuzzled her neck.

"I'll tell her. I'll tell her," he said, his voice muffled.

"It's cruel to string her along if your heart's not in it anymore." He didn't reply. "Seriously – you shouldn't do it to a girl."

"You weren't complaining at the beginning," he whined, nibbling at her skin in a playful fashion. She pushed him away and gave him a look.

"That was before you told me she went berserk when she found out you lied to her."

"But I managed to convince her it was just a misunderstanding – no harm came out of it!"

"I don't care how you patched it up. I don't want to be responsible for someone having a breakdown!"

Zach could see Sadie was getting worked up. He sighed. Women.

"Okay, okay. I'll tell her."

"Today?"

"Fine." The topic was getting tiresome. "Now will you just stop going on about it?"

****

Her lower lip trembled, the way it always did when she didn't get her way.

"But... why?"

It was the third time she'd asked that question. It was as though his words didn't penetrate her brain. Perhaps it wasn't the best idea to just drop in on her and break the news that way, but he was meeting Sadie for dinner that night and he knew she was going to nag him about it until he'd done it. At least he wasn't doing it over the phone.

 "I told you, Irene," he said, with as much patience as he could muster, "we've drifted apart recently and I think our relationship has reached an end-point."

"But last month you said we'd be together, forever." Tears filled her eyes.

He remembered saying that. That was because he wanted to shut her up when she'd found the ring box in his pocket, the ring he was going to give Sadie. She shouldn't have been rooting in his stuff in the first place, the silly cow. She got her own hopes up.

"Yes, but..." He racked his brains for an excuse. "You were upset at the time and I didn't–"

"So you were lying?" Her voice rose an octave, making him wince.

"I wasn't lying. I just wasn't being entirely truthful." He averted her baleful eyes. She was still in her work clothes: the grandmother's skirt and lumpy blue sweater. Coupled with her rumpled wispy blonde hair, she looked like a mad woman. Sadie always dressed glamorously: clingy dresses, high heels, the lot. But then, she had a killer figure. He couldn't say the same about Irene. "Look, it's not your fault, okay? Some things just... run their course. We're just not meant to be together."

"But why?" There it was again. It was worse than talking to a five-year-old.

"Irene..."

"I gave you everything! I changed my hair, my job, my friends... all for you! Please, I'll do anything..." Her voice cracked. She really was a pathetic sight, kneeling on the floor: the snot was running down her chin, mixing with her tears and saliva and dripping onto her dowdy skirt. She wiped her face with the back of one hand.

He looked at his watch; he was supposed to be at Sadie's ten minutes ago.

"Irene–"

"It's about that pig woman, isn't it?"