"Always," she breathed, staring down at his still body. "You said always."
She knew it was a part of him, it was always there. Her unasked question lingered in the air, "Why does it feel so foreign?" It's out of place, the cause of his death. But it was also the creation of his life. How could you hate something so much but love it all the same? It burned. Everywhere it touched stung like a bee, leaving her skin numb beneath.
Always
Its smell attacked her in intervals. Contractions of near sickness invade her, each breaking down the barriers to her soul. They hit her like a punch, but much worse. Each breath she takes, willingly or not, poses a risk. A potential threat to take her down under, but she can't go.
Always
"Your ears shut everything out, at least they say. But she can hear everything; the screams, sirens...but no breath. Not from him. She's dizzy, but can't look away. It's a torturous cycle; each a paradox from the devil. She's not in control, and she doesn't like that.
Always
But she can't feel anything now; not the touch on her shoulder, or even the lifeless hand that she so desperately clings to, refusing to let go. He's here. He's tangible. He must be here...right?" But she knows how it works. And she hates herself for that.
Always
Her insides are racing. Her veins, frozen, then hot, twist her into an irrevocable knot. She grasps and tugs at the source, but they don't release. The shade of blue, so singular, fades into a bleak shade of grey. No. No! The eyes that kept her at a bay were nothingness. Not possible. But she can't stare at them any longer. Using the rest of her strength, she reaches out with shaky hands and lightly touches each lid, closing the darkness forever.
Night
Short story I wrote for a friend on Tumblr. She insisted that I publish it, so here it is. (Props to whoever gets the meaning behind 'night' .)
Maddie