Evil army of one ready to take her out, the blade in his hand so keen; She sweetly sleeping while bus wheels went round and round…

There was a calm as the bus doors shut, the wheels on the bus round and round like a lullaby carried her led lids to sleep.

Behind the bus doors there was placid. Unbeknownst to her, beyond the bus doors; the doors that led to her house sat a man heavily armed. Sitting holding his ammunition in wait for the hour of her coming.

He had set out for war, to take who once was his ally down. No frown, he grew wild with demonic thought. He had set out to steal her reputation. Made phone calls that burned every overpass. His purpose was to thow her out, and stab her in the back repeatedly until there was no life in her. His blade keen, and hand strong. Then he would nudge her lifeless body off a steep ravine. Claiming insanity took her, she was crazed and no one cared. He spoke words that would make even evil cringe. All this because he could not forgive his own failing. He fell from the marriage bed, out of sync out of step. His character was lost when he woke to a different set of sultry eyes staring back at him. The names he never caught. Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, all in retreat of forgiving himself. 

He could not fathom her to succeed, and would make hell on earth her reality. He was in want for her to check her self into her own padded den, with a white straight jacket. Never to be heard from again.

Her face, and her things reminders of the trade he made with drunken spooks. He danced the night with lust as his companion. So if he did her in, he could be in la la land as if his own sin never even happened. If not for once, but several lessons he did take. He wanted to be the most eloquent in win of his prize. No matter the size, or presentation just a lusty disposition. 

He had their daughter pack her belongings, for he could not handle or touch her things in rouse of the vow he made to her. 19, and he thought she was his world. Now hurry bury this world away. Too much decay, it had grown moldy. It was unsalvagable. It must be tossed out to not have it spread in loss of him the savage. 

He drank, and drank some more to deafen his heart to God’s claim. Which was indeed his marriage, as it was vowed before man, church, and God. Coward is as coward does. Lose “the one” in save of yourself. 

So break yourself against her stones. Spit your pity in her soul. You never needed any help. Heavily armed, heavily guarded. You sold her out in save for yourself. Never to be friends again. You were the arson for the bridge that led to her heart. Your hands set fire to kinship, and now you are foe. For her you will never know. 

You made your own army within. “This is the end, my only friend, the end.” That night you made all her pictures disappear with that quote in tote. I am sure a drunken stooper. You vanished her from your life, your wife. Your Wife!! You wrote it, and made it truth. For you wrote the end of your story. Gory you were, and maybe still are. For in her back you left deep red caverniss scars. 

All this as as she slept from her weary heart, as before she set out hands were laid upon her in prayer. Leading her on her way. She was ignorant to the war ready to impede. She was not in want for a kill, if anything to just to heal. All this was beyond the bus doors as she drifted to the bus wheels round and round.  

Word Prompt: Precipice

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