Another "story", or should I say, vignette, about Giselle. This one is a butterfly effect. I loved writing it. I hope you love reading it.
Disclaimer: I don't own Giselle. Happy? I hope so.
She was no longer so caring. It didn't matter to her if he died, so long as she got her revenge. A cruel smirk slowly took it's place on her face as she watched him dance, watched him struggle for breath.
"Giselle," he gasped, unable to breathe, for he couldn't understand what had happened to her. She had been so sweet, so caring, and now she was gone. Even as a ghost, she wasn't the same person she had been. He didn't know what he had done to her.
She raised an eyebrow at him, asking him what he wanted. Did he really expect her to save him? If he did, he was stupider than she had realized, but then again, love is blind. If she had really loved him in the first place.
It took her long enough to realize that she didn't love him, that she never had loved him.
She wasn't going to help him live.
She was going to help kill him.
Once he realized that, he knew she had taken that final step towards insanity. Giselle had always been a sweet girl, always caring, always loving, always fragile. That she had changed so much was puzzling. He had never known her to be bitter. He had seen her unhappy, but never cruel, never angry.
It seemed almost strange that ghosts could be insane. Albrecht had never thought of it, but then again, he had never dealed with ghosts. He didn't know that he would have to deal with them.
Giselle watched him, looked him straight in the eyes, and stared right back at him. Her eyes were hard, unfeeling.
He started dancing again, never taking his eyes off of her, hoping that she hadn't changed so much.
Guilt ate at his mind as he watched her twisted smile grow. He was the cause of all this. He was the cause of her death. Now was his time to pay for it.
She watched him stop dancing. She watched him stop breathing. She watched his body slump to the ground.