It just is.
Music inspiration: Ill follow you into the dark by Iron and Wine
He had a cigarette in his hand, lazily lifting it to his lips and taking in the acrid poisons, which in the end would kill him. He knew he wasn't far from being an addict, the cigarette here, cigarette there had turned into one every time he could. Nevertheless, that didn't matter, death was impossible to escape from, as impossible as a kind thought from a killer. He leaned back against the steps he was sitting on, looking out to that dark void above him. That place that seemed endless; the sky. He often wondered if one could reach the end of that open space. To find the end of something seemingly unending. He knew it was a ridiculous thought, but no one was going to berate him for the fact that he thought silly things.
He was the only one sitting outside on such a cold night, even the steps he sat on were powdered with a light dusting of snow and it was numbing him. He ignored the wintry weather and continued smoking his cigarette, as if he had no other care in the world. There were no cars on his street, not at this time, no sounds except for the whistling wind. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the sound, even as that same singing air whipped at his cheeks viciously. His cheeks stung but he ignored that as well, perhaps it was Mother Nature telling him something. He made a mistake, and now here he sat mindlessly punishing himself for it. He would forever remember the sight of her curled up on the floor. Her knees bent, her arms wrapped around her legs as if to hold herself together. Her hair was dark vines curling around her back, vines that hid her face. Nevertheless, he heard her sobs, the wracking sobs that tore at him. Tore at him because he knew it was his fault. The last sight he saw as he left was her body, such a small body, shaking violently from the words he delivered.
"I'm sorry," he remembered saying, hanging his head down at recalling the stupid act. Sorry, he found, was such a useless word. And it was just that, a word. Nothing more unless it came with actions, and yet he muttered them to her as a last resort. To cover the pain that was so evidently etched in her face. He tried to come closer to her, to offer her some sort of comfort.
"Don't touch me," she said vehemently, her eyes glaring. "Don't go near me, just go. Leave" she said the last softly, and that hurt more than the shouted words before. It spoke of complete and utter loss, a hateful contempt.
He had kept his hands to his side, clenched in tight fists, so as not to reach out. "Please, just listen to me…"
"No" she had whispered so softly he didn't know if he heard it properly. That was about the time she slid to the floor and made herself into that protective ball, blocking everything outside from the world, blocking him from her world. That part hurt most, but it was his mistake. One he had to live with. He hadn't realized he was crying until the tears on his face left bitter tracks across his cheeks. The tears offended him as much as it humbled him. So he was human, he thought then scoffed at the idea. Humans weren't people who hurt others, which in the end, left very little humans. The words he spoke, the lies he uttered, the truth he hid. It all came back to him to make sure he suffered for his heinous acts.
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His cigarette now burned out. It didn't matter, not anymore. In just a few hours when dawn would rise, he would be gone. Just as the blended colors meshed to form a blinding light, he would pack his things and go. Leave to spend the rest of his life in solitude. This would come quicker than he thought it would. This is why he was leaving, but this isn't what he told her. Instead, he said false words, words that would make her hate him, because he believed, it would hurt her less to hate and lose him, than to love and loose him. He got up from his cold step, his clothes soaked through, but again he ignored it. Time wasn't important anymore for it could end soon. It would end soon. He went inside and packed his things, went back out and saw the rising sun. Moisture touched his eyes and he blinked them away and left. He drove and drove, passing many towns and many cities. His body became weaker, his heart heavier. He came back to his home on the silent street, finding a small-bodied woman waiting on his steps. The same steps he sat on not so long ago.
"I know," she whispered, her eyes filled with tears but she smiled gently at him and he smiled weakly back. He didn't know how she knew he would come back here but he couldn't deny now that even though she would hurt more his soul sang in happiness. He may die, death of course was inevitable but he wouldn't die alone. He was scared, there was no doubt of that, he was sure death scared most people. He knew she shouldn't be here, but at the moment, he didn't care. He took her in his arms, crushed her slight body to him, as if he wanted to meld to his body so she could never leave. He wanted so much to stay with her, to grow old with her. Nevertheless, there was nothing he could do. It was sad yes, a terrible thing that just happens. She buried her head in his chest, and he let her softness envelop him, realizing then how much he had truly missed her.
"I'll be here" she whispered to him, soft lilting words that made his breath ragged and his eyes ache from the strain not to cry. "With you. No matter what, I'll be here."
The endamungo
Enjoy my pretties!