My Perfect Weapon

The room was dark except for the little moonlight that filtered through the edges of the curtains. He stood by the bedside watching her sleeping form. She was so beautiful. She was perfect. His reason for existance.

She shifted in her sleep, turning onto her side, knocking the journal onto the floor. She had fallen asleep writing in it again. Her tears staining the page as she wrote of yet another day of torture. Another day of torment. The pain they caused her made him seethe with anger. He knew everything she had went through, all the times she had come home crying. Every tear was fuel for his wrath.

He moved closer to her, picking the journal up off the floor. He closed it and tucked it into the pocket of his leather jacket. She wouldn't be needing it anymore. He was here now. He would protect her now. After all she had given him life, she had created him with everything needed to do what must be done. He was her perfect fantasy, her perfect weapon.

He leaned forward and placed a kiss on her forehead. Before he disappeared into the night he glanced at her one last time and whispered a promise to his sleeping angel. "Don't worry, my love. They will pay, They will all pay."