“When are you going to tell her, Zach?"

Zach kissed the naked girl beside him and then nuzzled her neck.

"I'll tell her. I'll tell her," he said, his voice muffled.

"It's cruel to string her along if your heart's not in it anymore." He didn't reply. "Seriously – you shouldn't do it to a girl."

"You weren't complaining at the beginning," he whined, nibbling at her skin in a playful fashion. She pushed him away and gave him a look.

"That was before you told me she went berserk when she found out you lied to her."

"But I managed to convince her it was just a misunderstanding – no harm came out of it!"

"I don't care how you patched it up. I don't want to be responsible for someone having a breakdown!"

Zach could see Sadie was getting worked up. He sighed. Women.

"Okay, okay. I'll tell her."

"Today?"

"Fine." The topic was getting tiresome. "Now will you just stop going on about it?"

****

Her lower lip trembled, the way it always did when she didn't get her way.

"But... why?"

It was the third time she'd asked that question. It was as though his words didn't penetrate her brain. Perhaps it wasn't the best idea to just drop in on her and break the news that way, but he was meeting Sadie for dinner that night and he knew she was going to nag him about it until he'd done it. At least he wasn't doing it over the phone.

 "I told you, Irene," he said, with as much patience as he could muster, "we've drifted apart recently and I think our relationship has reached an end-point."

"But last month you said we'd be together, forever." Tears filled her eyes.

He remembered saying that. That was because he wanted to shut her up when she'd found the ring box in his pocket, the ring he was going to give Sadie. She shouldn't have been rooting in his stuff in the first place, the silly cow. She got her own hopes up.

"Yes, but..." He racked his brains for an excuse. "You were upset at the time and I didn't–"

"So you were lying?" Her voice rose an octave, making him wince.

"I wasn't lying. I just wasn't being entirely truthful." He averted her baleful eyes. She was still in her work clothes: the grandmother's skirt and lumpy blue sweater. Coupled with her rumpled wispy blonde hair, she looked like a mad woman. Sadie always dressed glamorously: clingy dresses, high heels, the lot. But then, she had a killer figure. He couldn't say the same about Irene. "Look, it's not your fault, okay? Some things just... run their course. We're just not meant to be together."

"But why?" There it was again. It was worse than talking to a five-year-old.

"Irene..."

"I gave you everything! I changed my hair, my job, my friends... all for you! Please, I'll do anything..." Her voice cracked. She really was a pathetic sight, kneeling on the floor: the snot was running down her chin, mixing with her tears and saliva and dripping onto her dowdy skirt. She wiped her face with the back of one hand.

He looked at his watch; he was supposed to be at Sadie's ten minutes ago.

"Irene–"

"It's about that pig woman, isn't it?"

He stopped short.

"What?"

"You're ditching me for her. That bimbo at Mark's party. She's the reason for you breaking up with me, isn't it, the whore!"

"Don't bring her into this," he snapped. "This has nothing to do with her – leave her out of it."

"See! You're defending her! More than you've ever done for me..." She began to sob, burying her face in her hands. Her incessant whines were getting quite irritating, now.

He looked at his watch again. Fifteen minutes late. He wondered how long this was going to take; he'd been quite looking forward to Sadie's lasagne...

"She doesn't love you like I do, Zach!" Irene was saying now, in a thick voice. Her eyes had swollen and her face was puffed up like a pink balloon. "She doesn't know anything about you! I've been with you for three years, always by your side. Why are you choosing the slut over me?"

"Don't call Sadie names!" he said, heated. Her face crumpled.

"You've changed, Zach... you used to be so sweet, so gentle with your words. What happened?"

"I grew up," he said shortly. "Goodbye, Irene."

He turned around and left the flat. As he descended the stairs, he was aware of the dampness under his armpits and the sweat along his hairline. His neck still prickled. He couldn't believe he'd dated the pathetic thing for three years. What had he seen in her? She was always there for him, sure, and she always did his bidding. She needed him. He really enjoyed that feeling, that she couldn't live without him, that she couldn't bear being apart from him for too long. Over time, the cute little texts every half hour had gotten annoying, particularly as she'd started calling him when he wouldn't reply to them, when he was... busy with Sadie. Then she'd show up on his doorstep, uninvited, crying and making a scene. He shuddered at the memory: the neighbours' disapproving looks, the curious eyes of passers-by. It was all he could do to stop himself from shaking her.

At least that part of his life was over, now that he’d finally broken up with her. He’d deliberated that before, but couldn’t bring himself to say the words. Not returning her calls and texts had been too subtle. The vague answers and disinterested looks didn’t send the message across. Missed dates still didn’t make her click. Now it was over and done with, he felt a huge weight lift from his shoulders.

He checked his watch as he started his car. Thirty minutes. That little drama had made him thirty minutes late to see Sadie. He sighed. But he’d washed his hands of her now. He could move forward. No more crazy.

****

Zach couldn’t believe his eyes. As if twenty texts and thirty phone calls wasn’t bad enough.

“What the hell is this, Irene?”

She stood on his doorstep, knee-deep in roses. His entire front porch was drowning in those damned flowers. He didn’t even know what to say, seeing her stupid hopeful face, her arms all scratched by the thorns of the flowers – where the hell did she get so many from?! – and the people walking by, staring and muttering amongst themselves at the sight. There must be at least a thousand roses here.

“It’s to commemorate us,” Irene said, her voice high. She had a fixated gaze, her eyes bright, and a frozen smile on her face. “One rose for every day we are together. One thousand, two hundred and seventy-nine. One thousand, two hundred and eighty, including today’s.”

“We’re not together any more, Irene,” said Zach in a strangled voice, acutely aware of the attention the two of them drew. Shit, goddamn stupid woman, why now when I’m in a rush to work??

He shut the door behind him, grimacing as Irene appeared to not have heard a single word he said. She dropped the flowers in her arms and rummaged her tattered bag – he’d begged her for years to get a proper handbag, like Sadie – and dug out a large mug. Dear God, he wasn’t ever going to get away. His boss wanted him to give a presentation today, and that could potentially mean a promotion. And it was all going downhill thanks to this madwoman.

“Irene, this is not the time,” he warned, raising a hand. Glassy-eyed, Irene proffered the mug.

“Remember this?” she jabbered, and then giggled. “This was our first anniversary present—”

He remembered it well. Irene was a strange girl, always happy and want-for-nothing. The mug was the only thing he could think of to celebrate their first anniversary together – girls liked that sort of thing, right? – and it was just some cheap little thing from a gift shop, scattered with flowers and other cute stuff, with “1 year” written on it. She’d been delighted with the present, never dared to use it in case she broke it, and just treasured it in her cabinet in her flat.

Seeing that mug reminded him how much he just wanted this over and done with.

“Look, Irene,” he said, really struggling to keep his tone amiable now. “We’re not together any more, okay? Stop bothering me. I need to get to work. Can you clear this up?”

“But Zach!” She moved forward, clutching the elbow of his jacket with one hand. He pulled away. She held on, resilient.

“Get off me.” She was really making a scene now, tears threatening to spill – yet again – down her face, the flowers trampled beneath their feet. People had begun to stop and stare, muttering amongst themselves. Zach felt a hot flush creep from his sticky shirt collar. “Go home, Irene. You’re being a pest.”

She blanched at his words and gave a big wail. He winced. The sound was like a banshee.

“You said,” she screeched, really going mad again, “that we were going to be together, forever! Now you’re cheating on me with that bitch and it’s my fault? What’s wrong with you, Zach?”

“What’s wrong with you, Zach?” he mocked, and then scowled. “Stop bothering me – you’re such a parasite! Useless girl! That’s right, nobody wants you!” He pulled – she still wasn’t letting go, although her face had gone white. “I can’t believe I was with you for so long; you’re an absolute nuisance. Grow up!”

Her lower lip trembled. The pathetic sight made him all the angrier.

“Everyone would rather you didn’t exist,” he said spitefully. “Now let me go!”

He pulled as hard as he could – harder than necessary. He hadn’t counted on her actually relenting. She stumbled, falling onto all fours; the mug flew out of her other hand and soared down the steps, smashing into a thousand pieces upon contact.

There was a sudden silence. Zach avoided looking at her face. He didn’t need any further pressure. He felt like he was about to blow. Checking his watch, he swore. He was late for his presentation.

“Just clear this shit up,” he muttered, turning and marching away.

****

“For God’s sake.” Zach cut the call. Voicemail. Again. At least the presentation didn’t go too bad – although his boss hadn’t taken kindly to his tardiness. And now Sadie wasn’t picking up. At least it meant he could go home and have a shower before picking her up for dinner. He wondered if he had enough food in the fridge – Sadie was a fussy eater, a fancy vegan, watching her figure and all that. He couldn’t see the point, but she looked fantastic and that was all that mattered.

He pulled up outside his bungalow. The lights were on. He frowned. That was strange; he was sure he hadn’t even turned on any lights since the night before.

As he locked the car, there was no doubt about it. The flower fiasco had gone, leaving no trace, as had the remains of the stupid mug. The lights in his lounge and kitchen were on.

He pushed the door open – it was unlocked.

“Sadie?”

There was a heavy cooking smell in the air, thick with the scent of marinade and frying. He closed the door. Had Sadie got in ahead of him and was cooking for him instead? But no – there was a crispy, bacon-like smell. It couldn’t be her.

Perhaps it would be a good idea to call the police. What kind of a nutter breaks into someone’s house to cook? He took out his phone as he crept down the lounge into the kitchen.

“Irene?!”

Zach’s ex-girlfriend turned around from the hob. He didn’t know if he should feel angry by her incessant need to badger him or disturbed by the outfit she was wearing. She was clad in a garish dress that looked like the rainbow had just vomited all over it. Food was spattered from the neck downwards and her hair was haphazardly styled. A huge grin stretched from ear to ear and her eyes still had the same dazed, glassy look.

“Zach!” she sang, waving the spatula in her hand. “Just in time. I just made dinner.”

“What the hell are you doing here, Irene? I told you to stop bothering me!” Zach ran his hand through his hair, gritting his teeth. Was there no getting rid of this girl? She was like some infectious disease!

“I wanted to make something for you – to make up to you – thought you’ll reconsider—”

“The only thing I’ll reconsider is whether to get a restraining order on you when I call the police!”

He dug out his phone. He had pressed the second ‘nine’ when she pulled out the kitchen knife.

“Shit.”

“I just… wanted to… make you some f-food,” she said, the grin turning to an crestfallen expression. “Just one nice m-meal.”

“Put the knife down, Irene.”

She didn’t look like she’d heard him. Her face was crumpled again, tears threatening to fall, the knife in her right hand shaking as she pointed it at her own chest. The sauce from the spatula in her left hand dripped onto the kitchen floor.

“I thought you’d f-feel differently if I c-can just do this one thing…”

“Just put the knife down. I’ll eat with you.” Zach held up the palms of his hands after slipping the phone into his pocket. He sighed to himself. Irene was a total pest bordering on becoming psychotic, but he didn’t want to explain to the police how his ex-girlfriend had gutted herself in front of him in his own kitchen. Maybe after this one meal she’d go home, and he can then ring for help. Maybe Sadie would show up, wondering why he didn’t pick her up, and she can get help instead. At least he’d have backup.

“R-really?” she said, hopeful.

“Yes.” Zach was tired of all this drama and attention-seeking. He’d had a long day. “Just put the thing down, will you?”

Her face lit up again, as though nothing had happened. Resuming her little hum at the hob, she stirred the pot with great gusto, splashing the dark sauce over the edges. She helped herself to the plates on the drying rack and slapped onto them whatever the heck she was making – some sort of meat in thick dark brown sauce. It smelled strange, almost metallic.

“Come and sit in the dining room,” she said in a musical voice, humming to herself as she sashayed to the table, where she had already laid out the cutlery.

Zach followed, but not without hesitation. He checked his phone. He was half an hour late picking up Sadie, who always started nagging when he was even five minutes late. No calls from her. Where was she? Maybe he’d call her after this ridiculous make-believe is over.

It was bizarre, seeing Irene looking so hyperactive and elated across the table, tucking into this strange stew she’d conjured. She was never a good cook; in fact, she was never good at anything, but she’d always tried, so, so hard. He looked down and fought not to gag. The meat was chopped clumsily and the sauce was lumpy and burned in places.

“You’re not eating,” she said in an accusatory voice, narrowing her eyes at him from across the table. He took a bite, just to shut her up. And nearly gagged again.

The flavour was… strange, to say the least. The meat was very chewy and difficult to swallow. The sauce was thick and very metallic on his tongue, making his nose stuffed up and burning the back of his throat. As soon as it hit his stomach, he retched.

“What… what is this, Irene?” he spluttered. She ate with relish and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand before answering him.

“Pork chop.”

“I didn’t buy any pork chop.”

“I know,” she said happily. “I got it myself, with my own hands.”

He took another bite and made himself swallow it. His stomach heaved in protest. Irene got up and tottered back to the kitchen.

“It’s awfully chewy for pork…” he said, staring down. The metallic taste still lingered on his tongue. Discreetly, he took out his phone and rang Sadie’s number. He needed her to get him out of there.

“Really?” Irene gave a cackle that made the hairs on the back of his neck rise. She sounded almost crazed. “I should have boiled that bitch for longer.”

Zach’s blood chilled.

In the kitchen, a phone began to go off. Sadie’s ringtone.

Zach moved to his kitchen. There, beside the fridge, was Sadie’s mobile phone, buzzing and ringing.

“What did you…?”

It was then he noticed a pool of blood where Irene had been standing when she was cooking. It came from the cupboard next to the fridge, oozing out through the gaps between the wooden doors.

With a shaking hand, Zach reached out and slowly opened the door.

“Oh my god!”

His knees gave way as he emptied his stomach onto the kitchen floor. The vomit mixed with the blood. Ears ringing and eyes running, he took another glance at the contents of the cupboard. Sadie’s glassy eyes stared back at him, her dark hair crusted with blood. Her neck ended in a stump. Her thigh lay just beneath her chin, the flesh haphazardly chopped out.

Pins and needles ran like an icy river all over his body. He couldn’t look at it any longer. On all fours, he wretched again, but his stomach was empty. Irene’s meal lay in the river of blood.

A shadow fell over him.

“She tasted as shitty as she looked, the little slut,” Irene said, with another chilling cackle. “I always knew she was a pig.”

“You—!”

As Zach turned, a sharp pain pierced the centre of his chest. He fell, almost in slow motion. His body twisted beneath him. The back of his head connected with the wall, making him see stars, before another sharp pain shot through his ribs. He screamed in pain, but it was drowned out by the blood pounding in his ears and the gleeful laughter of Irene. She plunged her knife in him again. And again. And again. His blood sprayed onto the wall.

As he slid onto the ground, his energy flowing out of him with his blood, all he could see were Sadie’s empty eyes.

Irene stood over him, her eyes wide and shining, red all over her face and dress. Her knife was held in both hands.

“You see, Zach? I always knew the best for you.” Her manic expression was fading as darkness crept in. “I told you. We are meant to be together.”

Zach could no longer move.

“We will be together. Forever.”

A/N: A little something I worked on in my breaks during this new placement. I always found it creepy whenever a character in a story (usually a girl) says to her significant other, "We'll be together, forever." Is it just me?