They say the heart wants what the heart wants. Sometimes the heart wants to love, sometimes it wants to give up all that love, and dish out some cold and calculating pain. I have been sitting at this bar for the longest time, wondering if maybe I have had one too many drinks in this state, and I should really just go home and sleep it off., but right now, the heart wants what the heart wants.
I take one last swing from the glass that sits before me. As I stand to put on my jacket I have this overwhelming feeling that something horrid will happen tonight. How right I am. Tonight is when the heart gets revenge. I suppose on the way, I should tell you my torrid little tale.
Been on this Earth for quite awhile now, going on a quarter of a century. Most people would say I have my life ahead of me, that I should just ignore it, and move on. I don't play games, they played games. Tonight I flip the Monopoly board. I take things back for everyone who was ever hurt or tortured in life and love. Tonight I write the book of payback, in blood.
It all start on my birthday. What was supposed to be a happy day. I went out to the bar with some friends and was having a good time. Then it started. She decided to start with her little game. Making me think that what she felt for me was genuine. The travel to another bar down the road was a nice touch, something I really didn't expect. The holding my hand, and running into my arms was another wonderful ploy used to your advantage. You kissed, you lied, you betrayed all in one fail swoop. Tonight the game is over.
We were getting along great. Making the most out of what we had. She told me it was over with him, then the phone rang that night. How she could call my house and think that I was him. I will never forget that night. The way she poured herself into him like milk into a glass. The way she said she had no feelings for me. The way she sealed her own fate.
I finally pulled up to her house at the darkest point at night, just before dawn, and I crept to the backdoor. For some reason it was always unlocked. The television was on, what a wonderful turn of luck. There she was, asleep on the couch. Could I do it? Could I end a life? Could I take back what was taken from me?
I put the cold steel of the barrel against her temple. I cocked the handle back so slowly, making sure that not to make a sound. The next image I remember was that of liquefied brains seeping from a bullet hole in the temple of her head. Am I sorry for what I have done? No. The heart wants what the heart wants right?