Elude

Twenty-Four hours before we were to be married — I offered to shoot her. Ten hours before our wedding — I made a mockery of her dying wish. Five hours before we were going to say our vows — I promised I'd never love her. One hour before I said I do — I vowed I'd never shed a tear over her death. But the minute we were pronounced man and wife — I knew. I'd only use my gun to protect her. I'd give my life for hers. I'd cry. And I would, most definitely, lose my heart, to a dying girl — -a girl who by all accounts should have never been mine in the first place. I always believed the mafia would be my endgame — where I'd lose my heart, while it claimed my soul. I could have never imagined. It would be my redemption. Or the beginning of something beautiful. The beginning of her. The end of us.