Here's a story that I had to write back in the Fall of 2013. Its one of my favorites because of its rare balance between love and anger. As a fair warning, this is a very darkly written peice, so if your queazy when it comes to murder and blood, don't read it. Hehe, if you end up reading the whole thing, I hope you enjoy it! 

Killer Heartbreak

The white walls were splattered with her blood and slowly dripped down, mimicking the appearance of bloody tears. The bed sheets were messy, stained a shade of red, and had a large indentation in the center. On the floor there was a body that was lifeless as the red rose petals crushed underneath the weight of the woman.


            As Miss Fantome opened the door, the patient didn’t take her eyes off the stainless steel table. Taking a deep breathe, she proceeded inside the room and took her seat in front of the woman. Hoping to get this over with, Miss Fantome proceeded with her job. In her words, asking the crazies how they got in this joint. She was hired for special cases in which patients would not usually speak, but when she comes along they spill like a toddler and cup of water. Some even say its like she’s not even in the room with them; that they are just talking to themselves.

            “How do you do Ms. Tueur?,” asked Mrs. Fantome. Without a reply, she pushed harder for at least a sound from the woman.

“Ima Tueur, I said how do you do?”.  After a brief pause, the woman raised her head revealing her face to the eyes of judgment. Her skin was a pale almond color, with rosy cheeks to match the tint of her plump lips. She had a beauty mark on her cupid’s bow and bold eyebrows that graced themselves on top of her forehead. Her hair flawlessly fell along the sides of her body; sleek and shiny like a shampoo commercial. With thick and long eyelashes, there was no doubt that she could be a model... but it was her eyes that told her story. The windows to her soul were darkened by her past and seemed to have a sad film around them that casted a shadow over her once bright aurora.

“I’m doing fine,” replied Ima with her French accent. Only recently moving from France 5 years ago, her accent was still prominent in most of her speech.

“I’ve come a long way and I’m very tired so I will not be talking much. Maybe a story will be needed. A story from the past?,” said Ms. Fantome. She squirmed in her white lab jacket as she watched Ima’s body tense as if a cold breeze had swept through her. Quietly she whispered, “Tell me what happened.” Once again, Ima had gone quiet and allowed her side-swept bangs to cover her eyes as she slightly hung her head. Ms. Fantome fought the temptation of tapping her pen against her clipboard and remained completely still. Her breaths slowed, her mind cleared, and when blinked,  Ima whispered, “Je t'aime mon amour”.

Bright rays of sunlight caused the dewy grass to glisten as their eyes surveyed their surroundings from under the shade of the tree. Laid out on top of a homemade quilt was a couple, both about in their mid 30s, hands laced together, and feeding each other grapes. When they were done eating, they proceeded to a jungle gym and took turns pushing each other in the swings. Whenever a chilly breeze came through, and the woman shivered, her man was quick to comfort her in his warm embrace.  As the sun began to touch the horizon, the couple went to an Italian bistro to have dinner. There they talked about their future together and how happiness is nothing compared to what they were feeling at that single moment. The check was soon paid and the two returned to the woman’s apartment where he respectfully dropped her off and bid his farewells.

“I will see you soon. I promise,” he said as he put his hand over his heart. And the woman replied,
            “As long as its not another two weeks from now like last time. God only knows what you were doing.” From outside, you could hear her giggling up the stairs,  to her bedroom,  and to the point she flicked her light switch on. 

            And how did you feel when you saw that?” asked Mrs. Fantome. “It must have been awful to see your boyfriend do all of that. Right?” Ima shut her eyes and began to tremble softly. What color she had in her face seemed to just drop off as she muttered the words,

“I wanted to kill her.”

            It had been days of thorough research for Ima to finally execute her plans. This included following her, recording times and every single detail that she could find.


Ashley Murni




Mount Juliet, Tennessee





Work Hours:




Time She Gets Home:


More importantly though, she knew that she was taking her man.

            The alarm rang at 3 o’clock sharp, and at that time Ima had exactly an hour to get ready.

3:15 PM, the front door is opened and Murni is finishing her last appointment at the clinic. Once the door is closed and locked, Ima proceeded upstairs with champagne and roses.

3:20 PM, Murni is on her way home eager for her plans later that night.

By 3:40, the rose petals are delicately placed around the floor and bed sheets. As the light falls down across the room, the rays reflect off her petals casting a pink hue against the white, flawlessly plastered walls. Placing the white powder into the champagne glass, Ima rested the drink in the corner farthest from the door on a wobbly, brown, desk. With no mirrors or windows near, Murni would have no way of seeing her.

4 PM, the gravel begins to grumble as Murni drives into the driveway. Next, the jingling of keys at the front door and the sigh of relief of finally being home. After, the footsteps of the stairs creak beneath her feet mimicking the small cries of joyous little girls. “eeeeee”. Her bedroom door opens, and quick gasp of air can be heard from behind the bathroom door where Ima was hiding. Slowly, she examines the room and its intricate detailing. The pink walls, roses, and the bubbling champagne glistening in its dark little corner. Her bag thumps onto the ground as she proceeds to the drink and takes a large sip. Isn’t long till Murni shakily puts down the drink and helplessly tries to gain support from the edge of the bed. The fluffy carpet makes it easy for Ima to creep behind her and slowly expand her arms-- both hands gripping the end of a pair of Apple ear buds. Pulling the cord taught, Ima quickly straddles her, wraps the cord around her neck, and begins to suffocate her. Murni’s face, red from the drug, slowly began to turn to a shade of purple. Immobilized and weak, even trying to get her hands to swing at Ima seemed impossible. All of the sudden, Ima let go of the cords, and let the body 'collapse 'upon the bed to gasp for breath as it tried to fill itself with oxygen. Murni’s eyes were wet with tears and bulging from her eyes as Ima loomed over her. 

            “I want you to see me. This is the last face you’re going to see. Not my husband, not anyone else but me,” said Ima. With one swift movement, she slit Murni’s neck and watched as a waterfall of blood began to pour and spray out from her. As she tossed and turned on the bed, trying to close up the wound, showers of blood got on to the walls and began to seep deep into the once white bed sheets and carpet. A gargling sound began to form with in Murni’s body and with two convulsions her body lay still, and the river of blood seeping from her throat began to slow.

By this time, Ima was had regained all of her color in her face, and pearly white teeth showed through her ear-to-ear grin. The act of telling her story made her feel alive,  although the memory killed her on the inside. This being said, there is no remorse on the inside of this psychotic woman, only love for her presumably ex-boyfriend Mr. Varalica. “Sad,” Ms. Fantome thought as she walked out the door. Outside the room, she met with the main doctor in which she gave the paper that included the records of the conversation she had just had. As she left the room, an officer asked,

“Crazy story huh?” and Ms. Fantome replied,

“This is why I’m single.”