Drop-Dead Gorgeous

They always said the girls handled the breakups better; they’d rant and cry to their friends, watch countless romance movies and eat a lot of ice cream, and maybe, occasionally send the enraged text message to the ex in frustration. The boys, they said, when they weren’t completely passive or short-term mad and restless, could go completely over the edge.

The statistics for the number of male murderers/suicide shooters was not at all close to negligible. Whether to take it out on girls who had broken up with them or refused to go out/sleep with them…the particular reason did not matter. Multiple innocent people could get killed for something they nether knew about nor deserved.

Michael, scrolling down a website full of statistics on teenage murderers and shootings, shuddered, then shut down his laptop without even closing the browser. He had been browsing Twitter before, and couldn’t even remember how he had gotten onto that site. All he knew was that he didn’t want to return. He didn’t want to think about anything like that happening with himself and…

His girlfriend, Mariah, saw him shudder and walked over to place her hands on his shoulders. She gave him quick peck on the check.

“What’s wrong, Mike?” she asked.

“Nothing that can’t be fixed by a kiss from you,” Michael responded.

Mariah was beautiful. That is an understatement. Mariah was drop-dead gorgeous. Her chocolate-brown skin was astoundingly spotless, except for a few birthmarks that could not be seen unless one got really intimate…she was classically beautiful, with slender limbs and medium height. Her hair, as was most girls’ these days, was constantly changing in style, but never took away from the beauty of her face. She was the kind of girl who would walk into a room and have every eye staring at her – the males with appreciation and the females with envy.

Michael counted himself absolutely lucky to be with her. He still couldn’t believe that after almost a year, she still chose him, as physically unexceptional as he was.

But aside from the physical, they had come to love each others’ minds and personalities. Mariah had always seemed a bit closed-off to him, and she liked to gloss over specific events in her past. It was a wall Michael would have loved to break down – but he respected her privacy too much, and wouldn’t pester her until she herself was ready to tell him.

Though he was only twenty-nine, Michael had risen to a good, well-paying position in an entrepreneurial business and it required him to travel a lot. He always got anxious about Mariah when he left for even the shortest time. He told himself it was because of paranoia. He believed himself – until three days later, when he came back from his two-day trip to Abu Dhabi.

Mariah taught in a primary school. She was good, and children loved her. She couldn’t imagine any job more perfect for her.

And neither could Simon. How else was he supposed to find her so easily?

Simon would hardly call himself a psychopathic stalker. He had driven by once and seen her walking into the school. Recognizing her, he made a few enquiries and discovered that she worked there. Since then, he had only visited once or twice. Surely, that wasn’t over-the-top. He had only wanted to see her.

Because damn, was she hat! And believe it or not, once upon a time, she had been all his, anytime he wanted. It was a glorious few months, and Simon believed it was perfect. He couldn’t understand when Mariah broke up with him. His brain couldn’t even register the reason! Something about them being emotionally incompatible and she needing to be ‘understood’ or whatever – what kind of bullcrap was that? If you lived, made money and had a sex life, what else was there to be understood? It just wasn’t fair.

His style of coping with the breakup had been to delete her from his memory. After their relationship, he’d been with more girls than he could call by name. It worked for a while, but he couldn’t get Mariah out of his head completely…

But whatever had happened in the past, maybe he could erase it today. He had finally mustered up the courage to go and visit her. He had a whim and decided to follow it, thinking that he might never actually feel that way again. If he chickened out, it could be forever.

Simon walked up to the school gates and right through them. It was as easy as that. A teacher hew as unconcerned with realized he was a stranger.

“May I help you?” she asked, cordially.

Simon flashed a friendly smile. “Actually, you may. Which classroom does Mariah King teach in?”

“Oh, class 3. Look, it’s right over there.” She pointed.

“Thank you so much,” Simon gushed. Grinning nervously with anticipation, he pushed open the door.

All heads turned towards him, but it definitely wasn’t the snivelling kids he was interested in; it was the woman standing in front of them. He was speechless for a second, captivated by her beauty, so close after so long. The years had only done to her good things. He waited for her to recognize him.

“Simon!” she said, as the face clicked with the memories.

Simon’s eyes were drooping with sorrow. “It’s me, baby,” he said. “Why did you leave me?” He was overcome with anger then. “You shouldn’t have. We were prefect. You should never have left me.” He was shaking.

She lifted a petite, manicure hand –one that had once caressed his face — to gesture to him to calm down, but he was having none of it.

“You really shouldn’t have left.”

He brought his weapon out of his bag, aimed clumsily, and pulled the trigger. She fell like a stone. Yup, she was drop-dead gorgeous, alright.

Then Simon went haywire, shooting at nothing and everything at the same time, while ignoring the screams. In a final epitome of grief and madness, he aimed the rifle at his temple, and, without allowing himself a second thought, pulled the trigger.


I know that the ending of this story was predictable. But I didn’t write it to be a shocker. I wrote it for the joke of the puns in the last two paragraphs. 😉


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