Wings

His hands were steady on the wheel. He stepped on the accelerator. According to the map, a few kilometers away was a dangerous curve, direct to a precipice.

They just passed the warning sign, a sharp curve. He recommended slowing down to forty miles mph.

He knew that if he didn't take care of himself, they could both die.

"Slow down!" his wife demanded. Behind his dark glasses, his eyes reflected terror.

He completely ignored her.

She glanced at the windows, which might be the last images she would see in her life. The speed of the car made the landscape somewhat blurry. The deserted road, the snowy mountains, the evergreen forests and the clear sky. There were propaganda posters for the protection of the flora and fauna of the area.

What sin did he commit in his existence, to deserve such a death?

Could he have found out about your affair with the gardener?

As if he were clean, this romance with the buffet secretary reached his ears. An offensive that she did not intend to waste, except when her husband seemed to lead them to their deaths, literally.

"You cheated on me too!" he inquired, taking off his glasses. He wanted me to stop the car, look him straight in the eye. Have a face-to-face discussion. That the problem they had was solved in any way. Any end was better than the murder and suicide to come.

The man smiled mischievously. It wasn't hard to tell who had sprung the gossip, surely another wretched heart in the Young and Associates way.

"At least I didn't commit the sin in our bed," he countered.

She bit her lip. Damn, she found out. If she got home alive, she'd fire the entire staff.

He thought back to the precipice. I looked at the meter, I was going 120 mph. They were headed for certain death. His heart began to beat uncontrollably, his skin prickled and his breathing became ragged. She trembled with fear, while he looked impassive.

What kind of man was that? She looked at him, not a hair moved. Her ear-to-ear grin, displaying perfect white teeth, made her think she married a human with no feelings.

Did he also want to die?

"Do you want us to die here?!" she asked desperately. -There's a hairpin bend ahead!

He planned death. After the blow of a burning employee of not being able to seduce Mrs. Young, he decided to return the deception with the first one who came across him. It was not difficult. His secretary had been drooling over him for years. He tried to bring him down countless times; which he cruelly rejected. She always ended up humiliated, on her knees, dirty, ashamed and with her face dirty from crying so much. He even slashed his wrists to get her attention.

They shared two months, the happiest two months in the secretary's life.

The night before, he offered his wife to spend a week of shares in a country house in a neighboring town. If he liked it, he promised that they could live there. She responded with delight, packing her bags in no time. The idea of ​​living away from his old father-in-law fascinated him. What she least expected was that she would accept that her husband would take them to hell.

-Robert Young, we have a leaf to take care of!- He used his last weapon. His voice cracked and his eyes were red with tears that bathed his face.

The abyss was ahead.

-A daughter, which neither of us cares about anyway.

The red bars on the sides of the curve broke against the weight of the silver sports car.

He flew into the air, Ada Young screamed in the sky. Robert remained impassive. In this situation, their seat belts were of no use, as were their bulging suitcases, expensive suits, and gold jewelry.

The car hit the ground, flipping over. They both passed out. A river of blood surrounded their bodies.

The sports car leaked oil, which was followed by an explosion.

It became a spectacle of fire and smoke, which was talked about for days in the newspapers.

The young gardener went to visit the grave of his forbidden love, his heart wrinkled with sadness and flooded with anger. Did that man not care in the least, his wife, or his own life?

He deposit the roses on Ada's tombstone.

“05-1-1976 to 05-20-1996”, he was too young to die. Robert was to blame for his own destiny, he was abandoning her. For work reasons, he did not come to dinner or sleep at home. Ada wept his absence, the young gardener being her shoulder and cloth of tears. The first time, he found her walking through the gardens that she used to take care of so much. Seeing her dry eyes, I invite her to enjoy an afternoon in the rose bushes. He had admired her before, her elegance, her pose, her good manners and her illustrious presence. Her beauty had him mesmerized, her blond hair, and her blue eyes. More than once, he wanted to hold that distant woman in his arms, kiss every inch of her skin and caress her voluminous breasts. He thought she was so distant, she was nothing more than a simple gardener with nothing to offer her, a woman who liked the ostentatious life that being a Mrs. Young gave her. You don't live on love, he told himself. He wanted to give her more than caresses and pretty flowers, a comfortable home for her and her dream children. That afternoon, I took him by the hand. They breathed in the crisp fall air and watched the hummingbirds as they jumped from one flower to another. Ada crystallized her eyes again, the gardener passed his fingertips over her cheeks with great delicacy, with the same one that removes lice from the petals of roses. Perhaps it was because the gardener had a more worked-out physique than Dr. Young, or because Ada couldn't remember the last time a man had cared for her, that she gave in to the temptation of succumbing to those thick lips, to that secret admirer who had her. wanted for a long time. Like a thief, he slipped through the window of the matrimonial room to silence his loneliness and lust. But of course, in the same mansion he had an enemy. The cook, felt the same attraction for Ada, and burned with jealousy to see them together. A secret like this was very difficult to hide, especially when there was more than one hunter for the same prize. And that he had the help of his aunt Laura, the housekeeper and head chef.

He remembered the time they went to a play, it was Romeo and Juliet. They felt identified, being also forbidden lovers.

He wept when he saw how Juliet killed herself so that she could meet her lover again in death.

She had stolen a knife from the kitchen, a very sharp one that Laura used to skin chickens with. He thought about murdering the culprit, the damned cook, but he didn't want to stain his hands with blood. No, he wasn't like Robert. Robert was so cruel that he even dared to snatch his own daughter, a newborn baby, and bury her in the highest room of the tower under the strict guard of her grandfather.

He stabbed the dagger into his chest, the rose petals were stained with his blood as well as the marble of the tombstone and the damp ground with his tears.