Prologue
Thunder crashes, not too long ago the sound would have made me jump, bursts of lightning rip through the calm darkness of the sky like cracks in glass just before it shatters. It has been about ten minutes since I last got the call. The words I do not wish to remember rush through my mind without form. To take form would mean that the conversation was real. I cling to the last illusion in my mind that she is okay as I desperately try not to fall apart. The hypnotic sound of my feet pounding against the dark wet ground becomes a sort of meditative rhythm as my breathing syncs up to the beat. As time goes on the façade of composure I have tricked myself into believing is getting more difficult to back up. My eyes burn as I hold back my tears, my chest tightens, and the sky sharply lightens as the lightning cracks almost in the time with the sound of the thunder. The storm is fully upon us, and if my fears have come to fruition, in more ways than one. Just a few more blocks, two more, one more, I see her house. The house that no one is allowed to see but me; though I never quite understood her shame. I have always found the Spartan style décor of her house to be rather refreshing. The bittersweet memories break though the last bit of my resolve. I remember the first time we touched. The first time I really heard her voice, soft and sweet, but with a sense of power she herself didn't understand. I had just saved her and I was sweaty and bloody from a fight, she bandaged me up. Her hands were soft and gentle but also confident. I begin to remember our first kiss, it was also raining outside though not like this. I reach my breaking point. Tears begin to stream down my face mixing with the sweat and the rain. Gods this storm is relentless, and I can still see my breath, so much for spring.
I walk along the sidewalk up to the concrete path that lead to her house. Avoiding the gaping hole on the left side of the pale green steps, I ascend to reach her front door. I walk across the porch, taking my time. I suspend briefly the inevitable before I move to open the door. The door is open ajar, which is odd especially in thins neighborhood at this time. I feel my breathe catch in my throat as I creak open the door and enter taking in the familiar smell. Another tear descends down my cheek and falls to the floor. I really hope she is all right but the knotted twisty feeling in my stomach is one I can no longer ignore. I walk deliberately up the creaking steps. I notice for the first time since… that night, the sense of death. I move towards her room to find the door closed but the lights on. Pale yellow illumination oozes out into the hallway and in that moment I can smell it. The sick calm of the smell on the earth after a battle. The thick almost metallic smell of blood fills my nostrils and overwhelms my mind. If she hit the jugular artery her body would have bled out quickly, I know that one all too well. If she slit her wrists there would be a bit more time, though even for that extremity too much time has passed. The logical portion of my brain extinguishes my last glimmer of hope. My body knows it's over before the realization flashes in my mind. I can feel the bile rise in my throat and I swallow it back, my hand is shaking as I mechanically open the door.
The thick smell of blood continues to coat my throat and lungs, I don't have a prayer of ignoring it. The smell ceases to matter as I focus to maintain my balance as the warm liquid soaks into my socks. Her lifeless body lies on the ground. The knife still in her left hand, blood glistening on the blade making a bright ruby red, color the dagger, tragically beautiful. The scene begins to resemble something familiar as if I have been here before in a dream or another life. Now I sound like her. I smile the most depressing smile I have ever felt on my face. The life has only just left her, but I'm still drawn here. As though her soul has not left this realm…I quietly smile as I begin to go crazy. She changed me, made me see things in an entirely new light. Awakening a part of me that was buried. I can feel myself fracturing into a thousand pieces, once again. I begin to go into self-preservation mode detaching myself from the situation; I hear the sobs begin before I realize I'm crying. My knees splash into the pool of blood already engrossed within my socks. I feel the splatters on my face the warm liquid encompassing me, out last connection, the last time I will feel her warmth on my skin. I lay down waiting for the apathy to kick in, my favorite defense mechanism. The way I was before I met her and she changed my life. I know there is no way I could ever return to the way I was before, but persisting I pretend. My acting is so good I even convince myself long enough to be able to see again. My eyes had just run out of tears. My face feels puffy and my eyes are tired. I feel like the calm just after a storm when the earth and air are still wet. My eyes begin to ache and I wonder how long I have been laying on the floor. The blood is now cold. The body is beginning to stiffen, and turn purple as rigor takes hold. My eyes have dried and my vision comes back. I see a note in the right hand. I pick it up creating bloody fingerprints on the single page of notebook paper. I focus on the colors first, my vision still a bit blurry and my head reeling. I see the white of the paper, the light blue lines, the red fingerprints beginning to turn a light brown, and of course the color I have been avoiding, the black writing on the page. The familiar handwriting, a few steps above chicken scratch, way better than my own, causes my chest to tighten once more. I feel a second wave of tears beginning to crest. I swallow hard and proceed to read the writing on the page. To my surprise there is only one word.
"Samsara"
The word has a vague familiarity to it. It's a word I recognize although I'm not sure what it is just yet. Just as the ideas begin to form in my mind I realize I am not breathing. My vision swirls and then fades to black, as I lose consciousness before I even hit the floor.