Kath Carter

“Women problems, huh?” Mac asked.
“She’s more than a problem.” Adrian massaged his temples. “She’s…a virus, a lethal one. You know, there’s a rock song about her.” He sipped his whiskey and enjoyed the burning sensation as it trickled down his throat. “It’s called Poison.”
― Jacqueline Francis

“I don’t love her!” he shouted. His voice echoed through his empty apartment. He stood and toppled his coffee table, its glass top shattering as it hit the floor. He kicked the sofa several times then went on a full rampage through his lavish apartment. Every ornament got a taste of his wrath. Curtains were ripped off the railings. Paintings were hit off the wall. Vases were flung across the room. Nothing was exempt from this riotous frenzy. Loud banging. Damaged furniture. Cracked glass. Everything that was whole and complete needed to be destroyed. Everything needed to feel the same way he did.
Broken… Shattered…
“I don’t love her.” He collapsed hopelessly into the mess he created, not caring about the jagged pieces of glass that pierced his skin. “I don’t love her.” He shut his eyes but the tears streamed down his cheeks regardless. “Love isn’t this painful.”
― Jacqueline Francis - The Journal

“He arrested her hand and slammed it against the glass. “Don’t touch me,” he whispered hoarsely. “I won’t forget.”
― Jacqueline Francis - The Journal

“I was thinking that if what distinguishes us as humans is our stupidity, what may redeem us is our grace.”
― Earl Lovelace