The Blank Heart Of A Man

It was easy to instill terror and hatred into the blank heart of a man who knew only what love and hope she gave him. Quietly and with tears, she fed his fury as he laid in her arms, remembering the feel of blood and tissue sifting through his hands.

He remembered sweetness and then he remembered the way she was torn open.

A new idea was born in the back of his head, to feed on that terror.

Vengeance, and it was precious to him, something he wouldn’t release until it was well over.

There would be blood on everyone’s hands.

* * *

Travel took no more time than it should; he wound up in town, wide-eyed and feverish, hungry with hate.

It wasn’t hard to find out where she lived; they were public now.

The newest sets of pictures showed her gloriously pregnant.

The very sight of it made him violently ill.

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