By Tori Lake
I was watching Ozarks as someone began ringing my doorbell. Of course, it was John. I rolled my eyes as I walked to the door to let him in. We did not have plans. He stood there holding a big bouquet of roses and a box of chocolates. "Happy Valentine's day!" he cheered. I responded, "I hate chocolates," and stormed back into my living room, secretly placing his gifts in the trash. I broke up with John last week, and he didn't seem to understand that I didn't like him anymore. He was a nice guy and all, but he had this strange hairy mole on his chin that made me sick every time I looked at his face. I know that seems like a stupid reason to break someone's heart, but I just couldn't see myself looking at that mole for the rest of my life and wanting to kiss the man it was on. The funny part is when I first started hanging out with him, I didn't even notice it. But once I did, every time he tried to kiss me, I wanted to gag.
He began to follow me into the living room. I continued watching my show as he awkwardly sat there in silence. His eyes started to fog up with tears, and all I could think about was his mole. How was I supposed to tell him that he was a great guy, but the only way I would kiss him again was if he got that thing removed? Breaking up with him was gruesome. He was an emotional wreck. Like his grandmother had just died from cancer of something. I hoped the poor guy could find a girl with the same mole so they could run away into the sunset together or some bullshit. But he couldn't move on, texting me like 10 times a day, coming over unexpectedly.
I looked into his sad, sad eyes and decided he deserved to know the truth. "You are never gonna be able to keep a girl with that hairy dark mole. If you got that thing removed, maybe I wouldn't gag every time I saw your face." It felt good to finally let it out. It had been squirming inside of me for months. Suddenly the mood drastically changed. He stopped crying and appeared somewhat glad that I told him the truth. He asked if he could grab a glass of water from the kitchen, and I responded yes. Although, he came back in with more than just a glass of water. He calmly took a seat on my couch next to me, holding the water in his left hand and a paring knife in his right. I began to panic. Why had he taken a knife from my kitchen? Was he going to kill me? He sat there in silence as I sat there in fear for at least a minute. Do I say something? What would I even say? It's not an everyday occurrence for someone to just come sit next to me with a sharp knife. Should I apologize in case he wants to kill me? I finally brought myself to say something. "Hey John, I didn't mean to be so harsh earlier. I hope you know it wasn't meant to be personal, and do think you're a great guy who deserves a second chance." I can't believe those words came out of my mouth.
Right after he walks out that door, I will be filing a restraining order. He gave me the most haunting smile and slowly lifted the knife towards his face. He grasped the long black hairs of his mole and pulled them tightly. He placed the blade of the knife between the edge of his chin and the mole. I began to smile. He was doing this for me. I started to feel butterflies in my stomach like he had just rekindled our love. The blade cleanly sliced off the mole, but blood came pouring out of his chin. "I LOVE YOU, JESSICA," he screamed. "I LOVE YOU TOO," I shouted back.
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