Disclaimer: They aren't mine. Yet…

Kruez

Everyone carries their own cross. For some it is tiny, silver, just a small pendent of their trials but nothing more than a weight in their pockets as they continue on up the winding uphill road. And for others, it is unbearable; it's massive size blocking out the sun in front of their paths so as they carry it on their back they see nothing but the darkness in front of them and the darkness behind them. These are the people who stumble under the weight. These are the people who feel their bodies break underneath the pressure and have their weak knees crack only to hit the unforgiving ground beneath them, most likely never to rise again from their prostate position.

I have seen people fall because of the burden. I have walked across the weak, burring them deeper in the dirt, watching as their tired bodies jerked in protest trying to rise again instead of giving up to wither away in the dusty road. And I have walked on, never once looking back at the one I had just crushed because I know that if it were me lying there helpless that they would never hesitate in doing the same. And I trudge on with the others, my cross cutting into my back, through my skin forever stuck climbing the same gritty path until one day I won't be able to take another step.

I look forward to the day that I reach the end of this road. I wonder how may have actually made it. Not many. The closer we get the faster they stumble and every time it is harder for them to get up. I can feel the dust that the walkers in front of me are kicking up into the air. It sticks to my skin and gets into my eyes, blinding me. However I know that I'm almost there. I can feel it.

Crawford never understood any of it. I remember the first time I told him. We were laying stretched out on his bed, and he was smoking one of my cigs when I first told him about the cross. He never did understand what I was talking about. Thought I was drunk. But then, maybe I was.

We continue to trudge on and I can feel my legs start to shake underneath me. For the briefest moment I feel myself falling but I catch myself. Not yet. Not until I reach the end. And I wonder if anyone caught sight of my stumble. I wonder if anyone cared.

We're closer to the top now- and everything around us is red. The red sun beating down on the red earth. We are red too. Burnt? From the sun? One shaky hand touches my face and comes away wet. Wet and red. Red. I can feel it running down my face and my tongue darts out to catch a drop. It's cool and sweet tasting. Just like honey. Just like his thoughts before he died in my hands. Tasted just like honey. I hate honey.

We all carry our own crosses. Some small, some large, but we all have them. It's the final battle, the final step. I've made it to the end of the road. I've made it to the very top.

I watch around me as my teammates play with the kittens, but I can't watch for long. I'm busy with a kitty of my own. Blonde hair and wire. I laugh. He tastes like anger.

I've made it.

We go at each other. Nothing is held back.

My cross drops off my shoulder.

I wonder, if I can kill him first.

But my journey isn't over yet...

The floor! I let out a surprised yell.

My hands are nailed to my cross.

I feel myself free falling.

Then my feet.

Falling. Falling. Falling. Falling Falling Falling Falling falling falling falling

Because everyone has a cross to bear.