Fictionalized Stream of Consciousness (Unedited)

The wind was blowing through the trees. Hard and brutal with the force of winter’s chill. I walked slowly along the path, remaining unfocused as to my eventual destination. My mind wandered recklessly with a multitude of fears, concerns, and other rambling thoughts. My body did not register the frigid temperatures or the rocky path upon which I stumbled.

When had it all be3gun? I did not know, but I did know I was not sure I could go on feeling like I did. I was ready for it all to end – no matter the cost. My heart beat rapidly inside my chest with each step I took, my face flushed and chapped by the wind - each seemingly symbolic of the turmoil that raged inside.

Danielle had been my closest friend – my ally and my confidant. She had stuck by me through thick and thin, through years of teenage angst, college and its learning curve, early adult years, and impending middle age, but now things were different. How had she changed in the blink of an eye? How had she betrayed me so unexpectedly and so viscuously? I would never be able to understand, never be able to quell the ache in my heart. If was as if she’d killed two birds with one stone when she chose to sleep with David.

David had never been much of a husband or father in the years I’d been with him, so his betrayal and lack of dedication didn’t actually surprise me. But Danielle? Well, that was another story. I’d thought no one could live up to her commitment or friendship, but I’d been so very wrong. She was a chameleon and worse than any traitor in an6y war. She’d not only betrayed me in each and every way, she had also broken my heart and ability to ever be able to trust another human being again. She did not deserve to continue her horrible antics. No, she did not deserve the gift of love……or worse yet, she did not deserve the gift of living.

The abrupt thought gave me pause and I stumbled on the rocky path. I stopped, my thoughts a whirlwind of anger, hurt, and possibilities. What the hell kind of thought had just entered my thought process? How could uI, an average and meek woman of forty-two years, even contemplate just a brutal thing as my best friend’s murder? I shook my head, aghast at my own train of thoughts, but then a smile, as cruel and as evil as Danielle took root and filled my visage.

Disclaimer: NOT based on actual fact or experiences. 15 minutes of pure fiction.