The Destroyer

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Prologue 

A young, beautiful auburn haired woman is leafing through old love letters and crying. She gets to one, focuses on it through her tears long enough to read it: 

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Dear Nastya, 

Baby, I can never explain the feeling I have had over this last week, it seems months, maybe it is because every moment you have been gone has been filled with memories playing over and over in my mind, beautiful memories. The fear that clenches my stomach is beyond comprehension, to live another day with out you would not be living, you are my breath, my pulse, you make me whole. 

At night I am afraid to go to bed, though I am so weary from emotion. When I fall, I wake when it is still dark and try as I might to go back to sleep, I cling to my pillow and know that I must occupy my mind to keep from dying of pain. All the things I have seen, everything I have believed in, my instincts and knowledge guide me. For the first time in my life I felt like a real person, knew my life was about to change, to become normal with no more pain, and then the worst agony that I could ever imagine replaced that joy that was to be. I fill my days with anything I can possibly do, I don't stop, as though I am running from the thoughts of you trying to bring my tears. The house is immaculate and renovated, my muscles are sore from exercise, I have seen every movie currently in the cinema and been to every shop in town. But no matter what I do, you are right in front of me, everything reminds me. Romantic movies, the things we were going to buy, you are in every corner of my house. The little heart cushion in my shower to the balcony, to the street, to the stars, Baby! I am exhausted and tonight I stopped running and it caught me, the tears won't stop and I am so afraid... where are you, when are you coming home, are you coming home to me? 

Sweetheart, come home to me! Please!! I beg with all I have and as I have said, promise you a lifetime of happiness and love. Come dance on the moon with me. You are all there is, I neither need nor want anything else at all. You are my heaven on earth and I need to live there, if you go ... I need to as well, I have two angels and I need to be with one of them. 

I am empty; fill me with passion for life once again ... please. 

Love always, Pieter. 

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She starts sobbing hysterically, then hitting herself, first on the thighs and legs, then on her chest and arms, then on her face and head. 

A fire is going in the grate and she grabs the whole pile as if to throw it into the flames, then spasmodically recoils and reconsiders, holding them in her hands, salty drips falling on them from her eyes. Suddenly she grabs a thick stitched 12" x 18" lambskin envelope, dumps out the financial papers in it, and stuffs all the love letters into it. 

Closing the envelope, she ties it shut with string and adds a sticking plaster label to it, writing her ex-lover's address on it, all the while wiping tears from her face. 

She gets dressed into her street clothes, heads down to the post office. 

The postmaster says to her, "There's no return address. Should I add it for you?" 

She shakes her head, "No." 

The postmaster shrugs, turns, and puts the package into a large sack. 

Nastya walks home with a deeply sad look on her face. 

Inside her apartment, she undresses, runs a bath, gets in, and soaks for a bit. Finally, she smashes her hand mirror, takes a piece of silvered glass, and slits her wrists. 

The water turns crimson as the thick bloody rivulets dissolve and she slides into her final sleep. 

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