I managed to glance down at my ancient golden pocket watch as I tried to push the thoughts from my mind. The look on her face, and the quiver in her voice were still ringing in my ears, and I couldn’t drown it out. I was wracked with guilt, for I had killed her. I had killed my wife.

She was a beautiful woman. Her hair looked like fire; full of orange-red curls shooting about wildly at every angle, yet still managing to appear tame, and shaped. Her eyes were the deepest of browns, and more elegant than I could ever had imagined. Even in death.

It was all her fault though. Everything she got she deserved. I had given her everything; a child, a wonderful home, and even a career. Alas, it was not enough; for nothing I could have done would have been enough for her. She loved another man.

His name was Damien, and he was a songwriter. He wooed her with his words, and toyed with her heart. I tried to make her understand that he didn’t want her. I tried. She didn’t believe me, and he would never leave her be. “I love her!” he would shout at me, but I knew it was a lie. So I shot him. He didn’t know about love. No one understood anything about love except me. I felt it with every beat of my heart, every glance in her direction, every thought I could muster. It was always about her, from the very second I heard her voice, looked into those beautiful eyes, and touched those lips. They quivered at my touch. Always.

I should stop thinking about her. What’s the point now? She’s dead. I killed her with my bare hands. I wrapped them around her warm throat, and squeezed. I ignored her gasps, and struggles. I just glared at her, and explained that she would never understand me. So I would kill her instead of make her live a loveless life with me.

I was doing her a favor. Didn’t she understand that? I was sending her off to some unknown place, which had to have been better than the life she had here. Miserable.

So here I am now, having to pay for my actions. I am punishing myself of course. I’m driving off a cliff. It’s a peaceful way to die I suppose. That is until you hit the ground. I can’t wait to feel the searing pain of my bones being crushed under this pile of useless metal. The feel of my blood oozing out of my cold skin in bursts. Thump. Thump. Thump. The slowing sound of my heartbeat.

Then that last breath.

It is all over now, for I’m finally to the road’s end.

Crash.