In response to Photo-Fiction prompt #11:
Bang bang, he shot me down
Bang bang, I hit the ground
Bang bang, that awful sound
Bang bang, my baby shot me down
When had she realised that this was all a lie? Perhaps from the start. Someone this perfect would not have existed, or at least, would have never been willing to enter her chaotic world. Yet, she had played along. And he had played his role well, in fact, so well that she had let off her guard.
She wanted to believe that he did love her. Even at this moment when he was looking upon her with what she felt were eyes filled with despair.
“Sorry,” he finally uttered, a tear sliding down his cheek.
It was not his fault; she had wanted to say but her ribs were hurting too much. Placing a finger to her lips and probably smearing some blood on them, she shook her head. It was not his fault. It was not hers too. If there was someone to blame, it would perhaps be their families.
They were like Romeo and Juliet. Another star-crossed lovers never allowed to be together.