Love And Hate

 

The wall

Aaron and Lydia were made for each other—and completely wrong for each other—at the same time.

He loved her. He hated her. Both feelings lived in him with equal violence.

Lydia was terrified of Aaron. He had already threatened to kill her more than once. And she hated him because her heart had slipped away to someone else: Daniel.

Daniel was a loser. He drifted through life high, lying to every girl who’d listen that he loved her, too broke to buy even a dollar gift. He still lived with his parents, who were exhausted by him but couldn’t throw their own son out.

Aaron’s love for Lydia was bigger than anything he’d ever felt, but his jealousy was bigger still. He tracked her phone, checked her messages, watched her every move. One night, while aimlessly scrolling online, he stumbled on a dumb horoscope. He typed in Lydia’s birthday—February—and read:

“People born in February are most likely to cheat.”

That sentence ate him alive.

Later that night, in bed, he turned to her in the dark.

“Are you cheating on me?”

“What are you talking about?” she muttered, half-asleep.

“Are you seeing another guy?”

“No.”

“If I ever catch you with someone else, that’s the end of you.”

“Are you threatening to kill me?”

“I don’t threaten,” he said, eyes wild. “I act.”

“So if you saw me with another man, you wouldn’t even ask who he was—you’d just kill me?”

“Exactly,” he snarled. “I love you and I hate you in the same breath. If I catch you, the hate will move first. After you’re dead, the love can cry all it wants.”

“If I ever let another man touch me,” she spat, “it’ll be because I hate you and you’re nothing but wasted air taking up my space.”

“Are you admitting something?”

“I admit nothing.”

He slapped her. Hard.

“How dare you turn your fucking back on me,” he growled, slapping her again.

She swung at him. He blocked it like it was nothing, then drove his fist into her stomach. She doubled over, coughing, gasping. He dropped to his knees, wrapped one iron hand around her throat and squeezed. She clawed at his arm, but he was too strong. He slammed her against the wall, still choking her, and backhanded her across the face.

“You stupid woman.”

Her lips were turning blue when he finally let go. She collapsed, curled into a ball, and sobbed.

That night they slept with a pillow fortress between them. Neither wanted to risk accidental touch.

At 4 a.m. his body woke up hungry. He glanced at her sleeping form, moved the pillow, and slid his hand over her hip. She slapped it away.

“Baby,” he whispered, “I’m horny.”

“So?” she answered coldly, shifting farther away.

“Come on, don’t be like this. I want to make love to you.”

“Not after you beat me last night.”

“You punched me first. We’re even. I need you.”

“I said no.”

He swallowed a curse, then crawled closer. He took her hand gently, kissed the back of it.

“I love you more than life. The thought of another man inside you makes me insane. I want us forever. I’ll do anything to make you happy. Please, babe—just this once. I swear I’ll be good from now on.”

She let him.

Afterwards they pretended the fight never happened. They smiled, kissed, played the couple in love. But inside, Aaron still didn’t trust her. The horoscope still burned behind his eyes.

A week later he saw them.

Lydia and Daniel, standing too close on the street corner.

Aaron’s vision went red. He charged toward them. Daniel took one look at Aaron’s face and ran like a coward.

Aaron didn’t chase Daniel.

He only looked at Lydia.

And she knew, in that moment, the hate was about to win.

Aaron pounced on her with such viciousness that the entire neighborhood rushed out to see what was causing the commotion. He beat her and dragged her along the street, gripping her leg and pulling with such force that her face became bloody and scraped raw against the ground. She screamed, but he was seeing red—he saw only the woman he hated in that moment. It took several neighbors to forcibly overpower him and pull him off Lydia, who lay wild-eyed and sobbing on the ground.

But Aaron wasn’t done. He needed blood. He glared at her and snarled, “Today you meet your maker. Say your last words, because I’m going to kill you. But first, I have a task.” He turned and stormed off to find Daniel.

He marched to Daniel’s house and kicked the door open. Daniel’s mother and sister froze when they saw him.

“Where is Daniel?” he roared.

“What’s the matter?” his mother asked, voice trembling. She knew Aaron’s temper—it was worse than an angry hornet.

“Today your son meets his end,” Aaron said, his voice suddenly calm. And when Aaron spoke calmly, everyone knew he had already accepted whatever consequences were coming.

“My son isn’t here,” she pleaded. “Please, sit down. Let’s talk this out.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Aaron spat, beating his chest. “Your son has been putting his dick where it doesn’t belong. Today he meets his Waterloo. And I dare anyone to try to stop me.”

Just then, Daniel walked in. The second he saw Aaron, terror flashed across his face. He tried to duck behind his mother.

“Today you die,” Aaron growled and charged.

Daniel yanked out a knife and brandished it, shouting threats. His mother begged, even dropped to her knees, but Aaron didn’t see her. He saw only Daniel. Rage burned hotter when he spotted the blade.

He shoved Daniel’s mother aside. In that split second of distraction, Daniel lunged and tried to drive the knife into Aaron’s chest.

Aaron smiled.

He caught Daniel’s wrist just before the blade sank in. With a vicious grin, he laughed right in Daniel’s shocked, bulging eyes.

“You’re a fool,” Aaron hissed. He squeezed until bones cracked. Daniel screamed and dropped the knife. “Do you even know who I am? Do you know what I’ve done? Do you know the kind of man I am?”

With inhuman strength, Aaron wrenched the knife free, flipped it, and buried it in Daniel’s shoulder. Daniel staggered back with a howl of pain. His mother rushed forward, but Aaron backhanded her away like she weighed nothing.

He tackled Daniel to the floor, pinned him, and with one brutal slash cut the pants open between Daniel’s legs. In a single, fluid motion, Aaron severed Daniel’s penis.

Daniel’s screams filled the house—high, animal, broken. His mother sat frozen on the floor, mouth open, unable to process what she had just witnessed.

“That’s your punishment for sticking it where it doesn’t belong,” Aaron said coldly, standing up. “Now every girl in this neighborhood can sleep in peace.”

He walked out, still shaking with rage, Daniel’s severed dick dangling from his blood-soaked hand as he went looking for Lydia again.

Aaron found Lydia a short distance away, surrounded by neighbors who were trying to help her. He snarled and roared at them to get back or he’d deal with them himself. When they saw the maniacal glare in his eyes, they scattered, leaving Lydia alone with him.

“Here,” he growled, forcing himself on her with brutal violence. “This is what you caused.”

He gripped her hair in an iron fist. She tried to move, but she was too weak from blood loss and pain.

“I told you I wasn’t joking, didn’t I?” he hissed.

“Please, Aaron… don’t do this. I promise I’ll be good.”

He laughed, cold and bitter. “You know we can never leave each other except through death. That was the curse placed on us. That’s what binds us. Even though I hate you, I still love you.”

“Please, Aaron!”

“Now take this,” he said, thrusting harder. “This is why you’ve been cheating on me, right?”

She choked on her words. Seeing him like this brought back memories: how she used to ride him, how she had taken him in her mouth, the pleasure she’d felt with every thrust.

“How could you do this, Aaron?”

“Shut up. You caused it. We’re bound by a curse that says if one of us cheats, the other will face disaster in no time—unless the betrayed one acts fast.”

“I didn’t know it would end like this,” she whispered, her face crumpled with sorrow.

“Oh, so you wanted disaster to fall on me while you cheated behind my back?”

“Yes,” she spat through her pain and tears. “I hate you. I wanted you to suffer a disaster, and then the part of me that still loves you could cry over your corpse.”

“Well,” he said softly, “it looks like you’ll have to taste your own medicine.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, voice trembling.

She looked up.

In one swift motion he drove the knife into both her eyes.

A primal, inhuman howl tore from her throat. People rushed out of their houses again, drawn by the raw agony in her scream.

“Now the disaster you wished on me will fall on you instead,” he said calmly.

“But… you love me,” she wailed, blood streaming down her ruined face.

“There’s always a sacrifice for love,” Aaron replied. “And it’s always blood.”

He stood, wiped the knife on his sleeve, and walked away, leaving her writhing and screaming in the street. As he headed home, he wondered how she would face the horrors waiting for her now—blind, broken, and utterly alone.