She looked exactly as she had the last time I saw her. She leaned forward slightly on the edge of her bed, wearing a cream-colored slip, a cigarette dangling from her lips. Though she was young, she had a look of complete despair, as if she had given up long ago. She had long gold hair and her eyes were as black as onyx stones. She had on an expression of restless boredom.
"Have you decided to let me go?" she asked. She moved to a nightstand, where a bible lay unopened, and put out her cigarette, smoked almost to the nub.
"What do you mean? I'm not keeping you here," I said.
I sat in a chair opposite her, and leaned back so that the top of the chair rested against the wall. My legs dangled so the tips of my shoes balanced on the floor.
"And yet, here I am, and here you are, as we are every night," she said. "It's time for me to go."
"Where do you want to go?" I asked.
At this question, she gave an exasperated shrug and sighed deeply. She moved to her window. Outside, a jet black sky reflected no light.
"I never loved you. I only loved your money. I was just 16 when you took me from my mother," she said. She moved back to her bed and sat down, taking another cigarette out of her pack. She fumbled in her pocketbook for a lighter, and waved me away when I offered mine. She found the lighter and lit her cigarette on the first try, a plume of smoke curling around her face.
"You didn't look 16, and you turned 17 a week later," I said. "We had 10 happy years."
She looked at me with black eyes. I remember they were once a bright brown, like the smooth pebbles of the river bed.
"It's not a normal thing, it's not sane to dream the same dream night after night," she said. "When you dream of me, I am bound here, the same as if with rope or chains. I can't go until you let me go."
"I dream of you because I love you."
"Love? You shot me. You call that love?"
"I shot myself too."
"Yes, but your aim was not as good."
"I was afraid, and at the last second, I decided against it, but it was too late; I had already pulled the trigger."
"Yes, and now you dream of me," she said. She stood up impatiently and moved again to the window.
"As I said, because I love you."
I walked to the window and tried to put my arm around her shoulder. A deep chill penetrated my shoulder and she shuddered. The star-domed sky outside shivered.
"Why don't you get dressed and we can go out to dinner, perhaps some dancing later," I said.
"I have nothing to wear," she said.
I walked to her closet and opened the door. A solitary, beautiful white dress hung like an angel in the blackness of the closet.
"Here is a beautiful dress," I said.
"I can't wear that. It's for a special occasion."
"Now is a special occasion."
"I can't wear it."
We stood there stiffly, both looking out at complete darkness. Silence encased us.
"You didn't have to do what you did. You could have let me go," she said.
"I didn't do anything."
"You're evil, you're jealous and you're evil," she said.
Her words stung my heart as deeply as a cutting knife, or a consuming fire. I felt sick. I took a cigarette from her pack on the nightstand and with shaking fingers, tried to light it. At last the tip glowed red.
"I did it because I love you," I said.
"Yes, you love me. Now will you let me go?"
"I told you, I'm not holding you."
A searing bright light flooded through the open window. It wasn't from the sun. I cupped my hands in front of my face to shade my eyes from the blinding light. She looked directly into the light. I didn't understand. Again, fear filled me. Voices came from beyond the light.
"Doctor, he's coming out of it. He's in full ventricular tachycardia," the female voice said.
"Get him connected, quickly,” a male voice said. “Clear!”
I felt a shuddering through my body, as if I was being shaken like a toy doll. Again I heard the voices, and felt the shuddering. The intense light dimmed, and I opened my eyes.

She walked to her closet and brought out her dress. She put it on in front of me. Then she looked into my eyes. Her eyes seemed to shine a bit now.
“You look beautiful in your white dress,” I said.
"Thanks," she replied, simply.
A slight smile crossed her lips.
"Don't try to find me," she said.
Then she walked out the door.

Want to comment on this Short Stories? Sign up to Edit Red and you will be able to comment on Short Stories and get access to: Upload your own stories and poems, get readers and their feedback, promote your work...