Would he come?
Her heart asked her. The answer which the organ already knew so well still didn't stop asking.
How many years had it been already? Five,, The blood pumping organ replied, while she lay on the bed, still. Lifeless. Robbed of alacrity in her world.
Five. She breathed out loud, for no good reason.
It wasn't as if anybody would hear her.
She had been alone for all those years now. And she really didn't mind talking to nothingness anymore.
Today marked the anniversary. The fifth anniversary of the night he left her.
Would he come?
Her heart asked again.
And dejected, she finally stood from where she was laying.
Why wouldn't that bloody blood pumping organ just do what it was designed to do?
Five years. Five years and he wouldn't come. Why wouldn't he come?
Maybe because he didn't love her anymore.
Maybe because he didn't want her anymore.
Maybe because she disgusted him.
Maybe because she wasn't enough.
Maybe because she just was a failure.
She stopped breathing for a second. Her fingers trembling with the knife she was cutting the tomatoes with.
Had she forgotten her prozac today?
Maybe she had.
She stepped away from the kitchen table, afraid of what she was planning to do.
Afraid of what every cell of her being wanted to do.
No. Not tonight. Her time wasn't up yet.
She closed her eyes for a few minutes, forcing her breathing.
The air felt like shards ragging all her vocal chords, she still couldn't understand whether the pain was real or superficial.
Why couldn't the doctor find out that it was real already?
It felt mighty real to her.
Why wouldn't she do it already?
Why wouldn't she end it all?
Her head started spinning again; maybe she needed to lie down again after all.
The world should end. It really should.
Her world didn't exist as such anymore. So what was the point in this empty hurting shell of a body to exist?
Her legs seemed to make their way back to the kitchen counter, where the knife lay.
And before she knew it, she was clutching to it like it was the biggest painkiller of all.
Prozac.
She forced herself to think of it.
No, it wasn't him that she needed. It was prozac that she needed.
She willed her hands to let loose the grip on her knife, and ran back to her bedroom.
Prozac? Prozac? Prozac!
She found it. Under the bed-table.
Watching it in her hand, she felt her whole world collapse. She had taken her prescription for the day.
So now, even this wasn't helping anymore.
She lay down on her bed again, watching the fan rotate.
Would he come? Her heart asked again.