An Emotional Murder

An Emotional Murder

A man. Simply an ordinary man with normal black hair gelled down but slightly spiked, green eyes, pale skin with baggy clothes hanging off his lean body. Some would call him mysteriously handsome, others 'Goth', and others still, weird. It matters naught for he was just an ordinary man, with a normal job and a nice apartment. But oh, this man had something special, a beautiful blonde fiancee that he could call his wife in a few short weeks. Despite the dreary mood created by the grey sky and light drizzle, despite the black trenchcoat he wore to keep out the biting chill in the autumn air, despite the melancholoy Linkin Park song he was currently listening to on his MP3 player, his heart shone. It shone a bright white gold full of love and dreams of a future to come. This man did not sense the rain, or the chill, nor the black skeletal branches of leafless trees clawing at the sky. He trudged onward to a warm house; to a hug and a kiss from his fiancee' to the smell of homemade spaghetti and more importantly, to love.
Little did this man know that his fiancee was not at home making spaghetti as she said she would that morning. That he would walk into a cold and empty house while his would-be wife was out with another walking into an empty hotel room, champagne bottle in tow. His steady gait slowed with each step, until he had come to a complete stop, eyes wide and staring into the distance. And in that moment he knew.
He clutched at his chest in agony as the white-gold light of his love and dreams shattered, quickly becoming the epitome of pain as each piece tore away at his heart. With a sigh he fell to the ground, green eyes wide and glazed over with an extreme look of pain. A single word slipped past his lips as he breathed his last, a lone bloody tear staining his pale cheek until he was no more
He was the case that would baffle police and doctors alike, how a man in perfect health and the prime of his life with no signs of violence or struggle could die so suddenly. In a few weeks police labeled the case as "heart failure" while a 'grieving' widow went to meet with her lover two hours after the funeral. Little did they know that he was one of many who died not from a physical murder, but an emotional one, a knife driven through his heart by the one he loved most.