Her eyes lock with mine as I feel the tightness around my throat, causing me to breathe in raspy hot breaths.
Oh fuck all, not this again.
I look for salvation within the pale orbs of my lover, but am greeted with naught but fear. My heart leaps hopefully within my chest; perhaps it is fear for my safety that bathes her eyes in moisture. Fear for the neck of her lover, her scandalous highwayman.

Gods teeth, was I a fool!
The darkness between her lips grew as she opened them, as if to speak, to cry out, to scream for redemption, to howl; "Mercy! Mercy for the man I love!"
But this doesn't happen...

Never does, does it?
Her eyes turn away.
The crowd that has gathered grows louder. I search the eyes of my accusers, unclean men armed with gleaming metal and spiteful words. All I find is condemnation. They shout crimes in my face: the robbery of a livery last night, a waylaid shipment of gold, and its company slaughtered. I soon loose track of the accusations as my eyes fall upon her flaxen hair. She is pressed up against her father's chest.

Father!? Vile shit-eyed, fiendish fuck! Mayor of the village. I have the suspicion that the man would press his fat, greasy face upon the wall so he could listen to me give it to his daughter as he masturbated!!
Even over the shouting I could hear her sobbing. I stared at my accusers, defiant. I didn't commit the crimes held before me. I'm no saint (Far fuckin' from it, murderer, thief, pirate) but I've been good as of late.

Good? No, preoccupied with the twat of the mayors daughter!
My heart pulled at my brain. I had to speak up; I had to tell this surly crowd that I was with Elisabeta. That she and I were locked in a clandestine, lovers embrace. I had to, to save myself from whatever oblivion was rushing to meet me…but I couldn't.
I was such a fool.

I loved her.
I could not speak. I cared too much for her, for her eyes, and her lips. For her laugh, and the way her fingers danced in my hair after we had made love. If I said the words I knew had to be said, I would ruin her life. No, I couldn't speak of us.
She would have to do it. For she said she loved me too.
I believe she started to turn towards me as they were putting the sack over my face. At any moment the voice of my angel will ring out, delivering me unto salvation. Of course we would have to leave this village, miserable shit stain that it is, but we would have one another to....
That was as far as my revelry went. I suppose the lying whore never spoke up, or perhaps the spiteful, black hearted bitch spoke too late, because the next thing I knew a fuckin' rope was snapping my neck.
Pop.
What?
D'you want a fuckin' happy ending? Ok...how 'bout this. I've been down here for months, and I still haven't found a sodding pub.

Happy now?

Go back here, let me know what you thought.