The Young Man came to the old man seeking counsel.

I broke something, Old Man.

How badly is it broken?

It's in a million little pieces.

I'm afraid I can't help you.

Why?

There's nothing I can do.

Why?

It can't be fixed.

Why?

It's broken beyond repair. It's in a million little pieces.


The first thing that hits me is the cold. It's not the normal cold that comes from frosty air and windswept snowflakes, no, it's the kind of cold that comes with a loss so great your blood rushes from your extremities to your core to keep your heart pumping because something so utterly catastrophic has rendered you helpless.

The second thing I notice is the scream, a scream that I know comes from me, but it doesn't register that it does. My mouth is dry, my throat is burning with the ragged agony that rips from it.

I am covered in blood, none of it mine own. The blood is dark and thick and horrible. I wish I could cup it in my hands and force it back into the precious body that has lost it, but I know it would be in vain. It coats my hands, my face, my hair, my chest, it's on my legs; I am painted crimson with it.

I hate him. I hate him for leaving me. I know that this hatred is both irrational and a lie. No matter what, there was no way I could truly hate Eliot, but I tell myself I can because I hope it will lessen this hole in my heart, a hole that is leaking out everything precious and wonderful and vital.

I bury my face in his blood soaked chest and mumble incoherent words. I tell him things I hope he knew, things I was too afraid to tell him. I tell him sweet little lies and I tell him truths that I never thought would slip from my lips.

I love you.

I need you.

Please come back.

Eliot, you can't die.

Eliot, it's okay.

Eliot, you'll be fine.

Eliot, you are the only one...

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

Eliot.

Eliot.

Eliot.

Elly.

Elly.

Elly.

I am crumbling.

I am drowning.

I am breaking.

I'm shattering and nothing I can do or say will ever fix this.

There will never be another moment when those clear, inquisitive eyes will look into my face.

There will never be another moment when our hands will brush as they dance along the ivory keys of the piano we both loved.

I will never enjoy the sound of his furious voice for my unnumberable shortcomings.

I will never hear his voice again.

I will never comfort him from his nightmare.

I will never watch his animated body move with a grace that cannot be taught.

I will never...

I will never...

I will never...

I can't bear to think of all the tender and irreplaceable moments I will never encounter again.

I am shattering.

My voice is fading from the soft mantra of his name. My throat is raw from my anguished screams. My chest is filled with the weight of the loss, the weight of my love, the weight that will never be gone. My mind is cracking apart with the memories, the pain, the insanity that is clawing at the door I caged it in. My lips are bloody from kissing the saturated fabric hoping my kisses will somehow reach him wherever he is.

I am crippled with guilt.

I am splitting with sorrow.

I am being pumped full of agony.

And I can only blame myself.

My limbs refuse to work. My heart beats sluggishly, longing to follow this one to the place he is now. The place where he is greeted by his beloved family members, his long lost siblings. A place where I do not belong, but I place I long to be.

I simply lay there with my head on his chest, wishing I could hear the steady beat of his heart, like the eternal ticking of a clock, but it is silent. Silent forever.

And I am breaking

Breaking into a million little pieces.

A million little pieces that can never be fixed.