Brandy is the mother of four, stepmom of two, homemaker, college student, and lover of the mysterious. She grew up with a single mom in the military and spent the most imaginative summers with her father and bonus mom, both of whom were kindergarten teachers. Most of her youth was spent enveloped in books, a passion that has recently rekindled itself, along with the joys of writing.
You can find her on Facebook right HERE.
EVERY BLOODY MORSEL
by
Brandy Cornett
The scent of roses, champagne, and seared meat danced through the air of the restaurant. Candles floating in small glass bowls cast a soft glow on his face. Her heart was beating out of her chest with anticipation. This was their usual Valentine’s date night routine. The restaurant, the alcohol, the surprise waiting at home. He hastily cut through the medium rare steak, juices leaking out onto his plate. Her mouth watered, watching him as he chewed, envious of the bloody morsel dancing with his tongue.
“What are you staring at?” he said with a slight annoyance in his tone. He had begun to let his façade slip a few months ago, and now every sweet gesture or loving glance brought forth little jabs meant to throw her off, questioning her sanity.
All she wanted was to find love, real love. Year after year she believed she had found it, only to see that they loved another; be it power, sex, greed, it did not matter. It was not her that they loved.
“I was just thinking, maybe we should skip dessert and get home to the real dessert.” She said, a playfulness lingering in the smile on her face. He looked at her like she was the dumbest person on the planet. “Why would we leave if the dessert is included? That’s the stupidest thing you’ve said tonight.” The words seared through her like a brand. “I don’t know why you act like you want me, anyway. I’ve been watching you flirt with the waiter all night.” And he returned his attention to his plate.
This was his most recent go-to deflection. Find a way to make her defend herself, while trying to get her to declare her “honest” feelings for him. Ultimately, he would have her promising her undying love to him and only him. They played the game just as she predicted with his final statement hitting his distain home. A sneering “Sure” filling the space between them. Her eyes rimmed with tears as she excused herself to the bathroom.
She pushed open the door and made her way to the counter, grabbed a tissue and patted the tears away. She glanced in the mirror and was met with the reflection of her inner most demon, the succubus that had clung to her for so many years. Her face was an almost exact replica of her host, but with the deepest red eyes.
I don’t know why you even try. They’re all the same. Liars. Cheats. Bad men with bad habits. It’s my turn to take the wheel.
She knew there was no saving him, and if she was being honest with herself, she was glad for the reprieve. She never could bare to watch this part. Tomorrow she would wake up, and it would be as if nothing had happened. He would have vanished, and she would start all over again. Maybe next Valentine’s Day it would be different.
Don’t bet on it. Now come on, let me have my fun.
She walked back to the table and finished the meal imagining all the ways she would make him suffer. His delicious, nasty soul would be hers. She would savor every painful, bloody, scream-filled morsel of his pitiful ending.
She couldn’t wait.