OUR LOVE WILL BE REMEMBERED

Chapter 7

The first time I saw Wendy Holmes, she was sitting alone at the library with her table covered with books. She was the typical lab rat figure. Pony tail, glasses, classic clothing, nothing in her standing out, almost like she was part of the furniture.

But there was something about her... And she was reading Othello. I loved Othello. I loved its tragedy. It was a literary master piece that showed human nature perfectly.

So just like that I walked up to her table and sat in front of her, smiling. She looked up from her book for two seconds, frowned, and then kind of snorted and looked back down at her book.

I hadn't expected that. And I enjoyed it even more.

"So, what despicable thing is Iago up to?" I had asked her.

I think this had surprised her a bit. But she had tried to hide it "You know Othello, good for you! Is this the moment where you try to say a quote from it to impress me and get me in your bed so you can abandon me afterwards?" she had whispered in the most platonic tone.

That's when I had known she was the next one I would love.

"Why would I try to seduce you with an Othello quote? I don't think it's the best way to courtesies considering he kills her in the end."

"And he's really done his research. Congratulations"

"You don't seem enthusiastic about it..." I had trailed, laughing quietly.

She was amusing. And I hadn't talked about books or anything that had needed me to think, really think, with a girl since I had killed Margaret. And I missed it.

"I hate Othello" she had simply answered.

"Oh and why is that?"

"He gets manipulated so easily when he should have faith in Desdemona's love"

And just like that, we had started talking.

At first, there wasn't anything romantic about us. We were just too students talking about literature. Well arguing might have been the right word here, but that's not the point. So we talked and talked. I loved to hear about her opinions. She was always firm in what she believed and it was almost impossible to make her bend. She wasn't easily manipulated. Unlike Othello.

We always saw each other at the library. I would come and sit with her, while she was there studying. There wasn't a schedule or anything, but after a while, I always got almost hyper at the thought of out next meeting. When I thought about the fact that I would just see her in four hours, three hours, two hours, one hour...

It had taken me five months, five months to finally see some change in her. One day she had her hair down. The other she was wearing a shirt a little more revealing than she usually did. She started to blush sometimes when I stared at her for too long. I couldn't help it, because under all that pig-headiness and uneasiness to show any woman attribute, she was beautiful. More than beautiful, because she had strength in her beauty.

It took me five months to see the flower start to bloom, the caterpillar turn into a butterfly. Five months of hard work, but they were worth it.

After those five months, when I felt I finally had my chance, I forced her to come and see Othello at the theatre with me. She had argued for a while, but agreed in the end, telling me she would make snotty comments all through it.

It had taken me five months to build everything up.

But it only took one night for the butterfly to die. I smothered her in my bed... just like Othello had with Desdemona.