Cassandra smiled as a happy memory invaded her thoughts, until she remembered where she was and took a step back. Tears flooded her eyes and streamed down her face, blurring her vision of the tombstone in front of her. Once again she moved forward to touch it, as if to prove its existence to her, and knelt down. She dragged her fingers across the fresh grave dirt, absently searching for something to cling to.
“My pillar,” She whispered to herself. She was overcome by her grief, and could do nothing for a moment but sob over the grave. “Look at me, crying over you like this. Would you have cried for me? Will you be crying for me?” she absently asked.
After a while she got tired and went back to her car. “Stupid bastard” she growled, “Will I never be rid of you?” all pretences having been abandoned in the privacy of her Bentley.
Of course, it had all been an act. She prided herself in having fooled her husband’s family, but she had to keep up the act in public. The media was all over her rich and famous husband’s sudden death, and of course some suspicion would come her way, but she had always played the part of a loving doting wife in public. The matter was completely different in private. She absolutely despised him. In order to avert suspicion she still played the part of the grieving wife, but it was starting to make her sick.
Gender: Unspecified Location: With Cinderella and the 9 Dwarves
She arrived at the penthouse her husband had left her and drove the Bentley into the garage. Her home was dark and empty, but she didn't bother to turn on the light as she made her way to the couch. She just wanted to lie down for a bit and think. Think what to do next. But before she could even sit down the cold voice of a man sounded through the hall: "I know what you did Cassandra" It surprised her but she had learned to hide her reactions well, and didn't show it in her tone when she replied: "I am sure you do, Mark. Here's an idea, why don't you leave my house and go **** yourself?" for a few seconds after she said it there was silence, perhaps he had really just left, she thought, but then a little chuckle came from the shadows behind the balcony post, and the man stepped out. She hadn't seen him in a while and his face looked even more rough than before, he obviously hadn't shaved in at least a week, his light brown hair looked filthy even in the dim moonlight, and of course he was smoking. She couldn't recall ever having him seen without a cigarette in his hand. "Don't worry, Cas, I won't tell." he said as he touched her shoulders. "I'm not worried. Who could you even tell." she softly moaned. She had missed his touch in the last year, but she hadn't forgotten what he had done to her.