Silence...
A door creaks and hushed footsteps, then silence once more.
He is used to the silence now, almost.
Silence is both his best friend and his worst enemy.
Silence means no need to relate or react. But then again silence also means time and room to remember. Her.
Full of life. Full of joy. And then pfft... Gone. A heatbeat and then... Nothing. Nothing but silence.
Silence and grief. Grief for what was and what now is lost.
One question though arises. Will the grief. This horrible soul destroying grief finally be able to set him free?
Will this be his passport to freedom? Or at least a relative freedom outside of HER immediate shadow, he knows he can never be completely free. Not now, not ever.
He has contemplated it before. Contemplated it with no real conviction. But now... perhaps now he can muster up the courage to leave. To go... just pack up and go with no backward glance.
For years they have lived and breathed together. Living and breathing together; though never really TOGETHER. At times he tried to convince himself – almost to the point of believing – that what they had was real. Could be real... If only... if only he could dare himself to make the leap of fate. If only she would see... she would give in and make the confession... If only...
So goddammit many hours, minutes, seconds... spent wishing and hoping. For what? He could barely remember.
But those days were gone. Now that hope is finally dead. The last fragment of hope killed by the fluttering blue butterfly of joy that flew and fell. Seized to be – just... just like that.
How could something that in one minute was so filled with life fade so quickly?
In an instant turning light to darkness, joy to sorrow, hope to... to nothing. Hope to bleakness perhaps...? Death were for those tired of days, or for those who chose to put their life at risk - not for her his little girl. His proudest creation.
Of course in his mind he knew that it happened everywhere all the time. Little lights extinguished by chance alone... or perhaps some ungodly ruler with a vicious master plan and an absurd sense of humour. He couldn't decide which was the easier to accept, a victim of fates vendetta or pure chance?
The pictures of days past seemed like though they showed scenes from somebody else's life. A faded tableau of a feline girl dressed up in green, with slanting eyes and a glint in them that immediately had stirred something in him. Other tableaus waning in colour as well - of him and her together over the years... he could still recall the memories but he could no longer recognise himself in them. The man he had been was gone.
Good bye youth... good bye hope...
Silence.
It was now all he needed. All he could hope for... though hope was too optimistic a word. Nevertheless silence what was he expected and relied on living in from now on.
In a moment he would get up.
Pack...
Pack only the bare necessities.
It was all he needed.
He would bring nothing to remember her or HER by. The image of those two defining people of his life, a girl and a woman would remain forever etched in his memory even as the joyous moments they had shared would fade into blandness.
But not yet. He could spare another moment before urging himself into motion. The effort of which seemed harder and more strenuous by the day. So he would have to move... soon. Before he lost the ability to get away.
He hoped by leaving that he could somehow keep on living. Strangely, through it all, his spirit had never fully given up. Not even in the heat of the madness that had ruled him when he sat in the darkness. A small flickering light casting eerie shadows on the pale sunken face of her – his life and joy – as she had lied fading in her ruffled bed in his room. Not even then had he contemplated giving up and surrendering himself to the darkness of forever.
Though perhaps it wasn't because he had any real wish for living. Perhaps it was just because he once again showed himself to be the coward. Even now when he was fatigued by the mere thought of going on living it didn't scare him as much as the thought of not living any more.
Thus only one option was left to him. Pack – leave – find silence... Of course he could also stay. Stay and watch HER dig herself into further ruin. Chasing after HIM. Though perhaps... perhaps HE would loose his appeal now that the saint that was HIS wife was sure to join his beautiful daughter beyond the light. Soon the saint would be gone as well... Not that he really cared.
He was too exhausted to care.
By staying he would submit to the farce again. HER farce... Their charade. The farce of living and breathing together without really seeing each other. Acting polite, never speaking their true minds. He could do that no longer. It took too much effort to even pretend that things were fine.
So the only possible choice he really had was to go.
So pack and go. That was what he would do. It was a solution which had saved his sanity before... so why not try again. At least it would give him a chance to find silence.
He just needed another moment... Then he would go. Definitely.
A door creaked. This time more insistently. No hushed patter followed. The silence changed. It was now the silence of the whole house holding its breath in agitated anticipation.
What would happen now.
With a sigh of regret he leaned back. He should have been gone by now. Now he had to stand for what would come, then he would leave.