The wind whistled as it blew. It was a cold morning. The sound of rustling leaves on the oak tree roused Jane from her sleep. It had been a long night for her. Her eyes were still red and puffy from the tears she had shed. Her voice hoarse she croaked as she spoke.
“Mike, wake up.”
The voice was rather groggy. He was not fully awake. His eyes were half open and his head could not seem to leave the pillow. Mike was Jane’s boyfriend – sort of. Jane’s boyfriend was dead. His body lay in a bathtub filled with ice in a room two doors away from where they slept.
As reality dawned on the both of them sleep seemed to dissipate like vapor in the mid-day sun. Mike was now alert. He got up and as he walked across the room caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He still had on the brown t-shirt. His face felt sticky it wasn’t morning crust. He had dried bits of blood splattered all over his face. Reality no longer dawned it was fully shining its ugly truth on the two.
Mike was not your average ‘Jane – type’. Jane was the ‘It’ girl. She played volley ball, was the captain of the swimming team, played the violin, a professional salsa dancer, and she was top of her class all without breaking a sweat. Did, I mention she was beautiful? Mike was just another ordinary bloke. He wore brown checked shirts and plaited khaki pants. His hair was always close and neatly shaven. Although brilliant academically he was sort of an odd thumb when it came to sports. He never could kick the ball right. He ran awkwardly and his knees would knock whenever he did. He wore glasses and was always afraid of the other boys.
His reflection seemed to scare the shit out of him. He gasped.
“What did we do!” he said in a panic.
He got hysterical as his hands begun shaking. Spit was forming at the corner of his mouth; he was petrified and stood stiff staring at his reflection. This scared him even more. He could fell his knees turn onto jelly as a sick feeling settled in his stomach. He covered his mouth before he could gag. Walking up to him, Jane slapped him hard across the face. He did not react. He was numb to the pain. She shook him hard trying to get him back before he messed everything up.
“Pull yourself together!” she shouted in her hoarse voice.
“Go wash your face”
“Don’t be such a big baby!”
It was ironic he thought. She had spent the whole night crying. He had been indifferent – until now. Walking into the bathroom he went past the body that was still chilling. He took one look and smirked. The guy was dead. Killed by the one he loved – maybe that was the meaning behind drop dead gorgeous.
Mike washed his face and tried to crack a smile. It was awkward. He thought he looked like a serial killer. If only he knew she planned to pin this all on him he wouldn’t smile. There were going to be two graves and one was already taken.