Village Square Contest: Loss

Enjoy.


Her eyes are deep as royal amethyst. Beginning to glisten; light springs of tears start to roll. They slip downwards, gliding across her soft cheeks. As moisture sneaks to the corner of her lips, she tastes faint saltiness.

The empty house contains her quiet sobs. In the house, not much is left. There is a queen-sized bed that creaks when laid down on. One unbalanced table fit for four seats is placed in the center of the room. A moderately clean dark brown wooden closet is well on its way attracting small spiders. Cupboards and a sink are starting to break down, worn out and falling off their hinges.

Three words: "Let me go." Refusing to meet his gaze, she stares at the ground and clenches her fists. At any moment now, she can strike a blow at him...but she won't. He hasn't done anything wrong. This...is none of his business. "This is what I want."Her mouth twists into a grimace. She desperately aches for it: that only wish, only desire. The only thing that's stopping her...is him.

That's because he doesn't understand why she is doing this.

What she's planning will slowly kill him. Inevitable agony will arrive, torturing him by day and night. He always sees her in his mind, and will continue to until the end of time. The tragedy will tear him in two. How can he live without her by his side? Without his beloved, all that's left is an empty and incomplete shell.

Running pale slender fingers through silky chestnut hair, he sadly looks down. Then he tightly embraces her, never wanting to let go. Small hands lightly rub him on the back. Jade green eyes squeeze shut and he murmurs, "Why must you do this to me?" About ten times the question has been asked, and it is answered in the same way. A small stand of hope is what he holds onto; maybe this time the respond will be different. You're driving me insane.

Pulling back with her bottom lip trembling, she whispers, "Because I have to, Skye."

Skye knew she would say that.

She's so afraid, yet so determined. Violence flashes in her eyes while she takes two lingering steps backward. Carefully patting her jean pocket, she says, "You can't stop me." With her hand moving towards the doorknob, she adds, "I'm leaving, now." The door slams, and he senses she's making her escape.

Immediately Skye charges after her. She's not getting away with this.


He has speed and is swift, giving all that he's got. He races headlong, quick agile feet crunch on the path. Pebbles roll in various directions; a puff of dry dirt dusts the air. It clouds into his eyes and for a few seconds his vision is blocked. Irritated, Skye blinks to recover from blindness. Nevertheless, he continues to pursue her, bellowing, "Jill! Jill! JILL!"

Ahead, Jill overpowers Skye, failing to slow down. She doesn't dare spare a glance back. Her goal is to flee. Without him, she's unstoppable. He is aware of this. Unfortunately his legs weaken, speed suddenly drops. Deep panting breaths shorten, heaving every few steps. Eventually all he can manage is an efficient but bearable fast combination of a walk and jog. Why does she have to work out so much? I can't catch up to her at this pace!

Fists clenched, he angrily throws a punch in the air. What more can he do? She's probably there by now, with firm cool tools in her hands, about to strike. Wading knee deep in the water...she'll fall if she succeeds, and be lost to the sea. He thinks, Stupid Skye, are you really going to let her do this?

He's about halfway there.

How hard can it be to run full speed the rest?


The answer is: really hard. It is extremely difficult and practically impossible, to run full speed for about ten minutes. Skye had to stop at least five times to catch his breath. Not that it helped – his lungs felt as if they were about to burst. Thighs are scorching, as if on fire and when he arrives to his destination, he almost faints with exhaustion.

Kicked off sneakers are carelessly strewn on the beach. Because his feet pound with every step, he quickly slips out of his black dressy shoes. Skye gazes at Jill, who is standing knee deep in the heavy rough ocean. Shorts are rolled up. A salty white wave ripples past her still figure, wind rifting through her long flowing hair released from its usual ponytail.

With every step he takes, he feels the squishy grainy sand between his pale toes. At the edge of shore, a puff of foam rises and rings around his ankles. Footprints trailing behind sweep away. Sounds of the crashing currents bashing against rocks reach his ears. He smells the stench of fish and seaweed and salt mixed together.

Abruptly setting out towards her, Skye is relieved, thinking: So far everything's okay.

She hasn't noticed him wading out to meet her. Hands trembling, Jill stares down, as if anticipating a terrifying moment in history. Eyebrows are knotted in a V, with her mouth slightly open, deeply inhaling. Left arm partially extended outwards, palms up, she tightens her right grip. Then she proceeds, slitting the target.

"Why the hell are you doing this?" Skye practically yells in her ear. Arms shooting forward, he knocks the object out of her hands as his advantage. It plops in the ocean about three feet away, sinking to the ground. Jill, startled, practically jumps.

Glaring, she declares, "You scared me." Why, did she think he had fallen behind? Scowling at the thought, Skye averts his eyes down only to gasp. His heart leaps in horror.

One diagonal slash is sliced across bronzed skin. The quick thin cut is deep enough to leave a scar. Dripping with thick, oozing liquid, steaming in a crimson red substance, a death sentence awaits her. Even when softly exhaling in pain, she crosses her arms over the chest. "We've been through this already." The whisper is so soft, he barely catches it.

Immediately he strips off his white t-shirt, trying not to cringe at the cool blowing bitter wind. Wrapping it around her arm, he retorts, "You haven't told me the reason, though." Growing splotches stain the fabric, the rich colour of deep crimson. Scowling at her, Skye says, "Tell me. You're frightening the hell out of me."

Unexpectedly, she breaks into angry tears. Full of longing, regret, and heartbreak, they pour down her face in frenzy. Striding forward, she buries her head in his chest. Wrapping his arms around her, he doesn't mind the leaky blood spotting his chest. After a while, Jill mutters, "I've always been alone in this world...until I met you." Now, she's never told me that, He thinks.

She glances up to see Skye give a simple, comforting smile. It says so little yet explains so much. All of a sudden, out of the blue, it hits her.

"Y-y-you love me."

He stiffens for half a second, but then relaxes and softly replies, "Yes." Pressing his lips to her forehead, he whispers, "And I always will." Now the tears rushing down her cheeks are plentiful with happiness. For a moment her face breaks out into a huge grin – but then fades away. It hurt to know that she realized too late. Skye frowns. "Jill?"

Again she treads back, lines creasing on her forehead. "No, no," she says. "You can't love me." To answer the question that was about to spring from his mouth, she says, "I have never been loved, and never will."

Frantically breathing, she backs deeper into the blue abyss. Swishing water smacks his bare abdomen. Winding the shirt from the bloodied muscles, she shouts, "No one ever loved me! It's how I live. How can someone as perfect as you ever love me?" Scrunching it together, she chucks the clothing right back at him with a scream. "Unloved! Alone! Abandoned! Betrayed! For almost twenty frickin' years!"

Part of the sleeve soaks before he manages to grab hold of it. Not wanting to be dressed in a blood soaked shirt, he throws it over his shoulder. He growls, "What about me? Don't I count anymore? Nineteen-year-old Jill doesn't have many friends in the valley. After ten months of knowing her, he should have suspected her lack of girlfriends.

Then again, Skye doesn't have many friends either. "I'm not perfect. Why are you saying these things?"

She snaps, "Why should you even care? I need to leave this place before it gets any worse." Spinning on her heel, Jill makes way towards the fallen object. But he tightly clutches her wrist. He won't ever let her retrieve the weapon below the surface.

"What are you running from, Jill?" he demands.

Twisting free, before dunking her head in the water, she responds, "It's none of your business."


She picks up the item and swims deeper, a place to where he can never reach. Luckily she can hold her breath for long periods of time. Slowly treading water, rough fingers skim across the sharp piercing edge. Smooth metal slides across her palm.

Anyone may say it's deathly, treacherous, and way too risky. For five months she carefully repeated the plan over and over inside her head, spotting out loopholes and twisting it so there were no interferences. There had been no hesitation then. Why only now, is it hard to let go of everything in this world?

Maybe it's because he loves her.

They've been best friends for ten months, and she never gave a pondering thought about a relationship with Skye. Now that realization dawns, waves of shock overcome. The true saying: "Friends come and go" is what she believes. He is a friend. If she goes and kills herself off, he won't care or fall to his knees and mourn. Simply, he'll move on with life and forget all about her.

The quote: "Love will always be there." What does it mean? What is love?

Could she...possibly love Skye as well? Live a long life with him until she was old and holding a cane?

Flashing back to all those years ago, images of Mother crying out in unspeakable pain reach Jill's mind.

Freezing on the spot, Jill remembers the fighting. Exchanging arguments, throwing insults at one another...the ringing of her ears kept her awake for long nights. Hiding under soft duvets in fear that they'd always fight, and never stop...

If only Father did not drink so much and shamelessly abused Mother, none of this would have happened. Mother may not have packed her bags and just leave without giving a second though about her daughter. He wouldn't have drunk then drove the car with stupidity, and wouldn't have crashed into that fence, only to die.

Jill wouldn't have been all alone.

Love just tears hearts apart.

Skye will just hurt me just like Father hurt Mother.

Heart loudly thumping, gradually increasing speed, Jill thinks, Let's just get this over with. Clenching fists and squeezing eyes shut, she slashes her other thin wrist.

Before her vision fades out, she bobs to the surface, gasping for air.

Then strong arms tightly gather her up, holding on, and they'll never, ever, let go.


It had happened so fast Skye has no idea what was going on. One second Jill's underwater, staring at that damned knife, and the next she's desperately trying to catch gulps of oxygen, blood gushing out around her.

Without hesitation he scoops her fragile body in his arms. She feels so cold, almost chilled to the bone, face pale and drained. "Hold on, Jill." He's truly frightened of her death now – way more than before. There's that chance if he glances down, the tears will arrive and never end.

And if he starts crying, he can't help Jill at all.

At shore she's laid down, shivering, eyelids refusing to inch open. Fists crossed over the chest, the knife dangling loose between her fingers. Fiercely he rips it out of her grasp and again discards it in the ocean. He growls, "I'm taking you to Dr. Hardy. He'll know what to do!" Besides, Dr. Hardy is one of the few villagers not attempting to hunt down Skye and lock him in jail for Goddess knows how long. They personally know each other.

In bridal style he picks her up. She isn't heavy or completely light, but Skye manages all the same – with slight difficulty.

His arms are aching, but he doesn't care. He'll fight to keep her alive – no matter what the price.


"By the seven hells, Skye, what did you do to the lass?" Hardy asks after opening the door. His voice is thick and worn as if he just rose from bed. Judging by the time, he probably did. Mouth creased in a frown, Hardy swiftly ushers them inside. "Lay her there," he instructs, beginning to gather tubes of medicine.

Skye obeys, but it reluctant to release her hands from his. But the doctor shoos him away, saying, "Let me through; now let me through."

He's a doctor, he knows what he's doing, Skye thinks. Biting his lip, he whispers, "Is she going to be okay?" Hanging on a strand of hope, he steps backwards worriedly gazing at her.

Suspiciously, Hardy glances at Skye, hooking Jill to some oxygen cords. Breaths begin to cut off into sharp panicky breaths. He demands, swerving around to meet Skye's gaze, "Mind telling me what's going on here?" Scars are vivid under the fluorescent bulb, like a child took a marker and drew on his face.

Watching Jill's trembling body, he softly replies, "The girl I love has just tried to kill herself."

If Dr. Hardy's freaked, on the verge of having a panic attack, he doesn't show it. In fact, he only gives a prompt nod as if he's totally okay with it. He gruffly says, "She's lucky to have a lad like you. I can see you love her very much."

Skye smiles but thinks, You don't even know half of it. How can anyone know? Absolutely no villager has seen them together. Hanging out around the Goddess Spring at midnight, shoes slipped off, bare feet dangling over the pond. During those times, they were alone.

Together they had laughed over simple things, like how a toad burped or how fish swam around their ankles, chatting to one another every night, hours stretching ahead of them.

"You'll have a few minutes with her," Hardy adds, "before I drug her. She's lost so much blood so I'm going to put her to a very heavy sleep and then stitch her up." He turns back around, mixing a weird looking formula that makes Skye want to throw up.

But Skye finds himself at Jill's side, leaning down and kissing her cool cheek. Since she took the medicine, she seems relaxed. The way her eyes shut or the way she inhales is as if she's peacefully sleeping. He quietly says into her ear, heart practically hammering in his throat, "I love you, Jill."

And it is said. No matter what, he'll still love her. No matter what, he'll always stay by her side, through thick and thin, past anger and embarrassment. The three words dancing from his tongue reach her ears for the first time...and the last.


The doctor has politely asked Skye to step out of the house while he attempt to stitch Jill up. He claims that he needs total concentration and will do anything he can to save her.

Restlessly, Skye paces back and forth in front of Hardy's door, muttering under his breath, "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god." There aren't many things to do for time to pass quicker.

He drums his fingers against the rough dirty white pane of the window.

He picks on leaves of the bushes, letting the remains scatter to the ground.

He impatiently knocks and calls out several times, "How is she?"

He hears the frustrated growl: "You can't come in yet."

Chilled to the bone, he agitatedly continues to stride up and down the path. Grumbles and groans escape from his dry throat. Fists twitchy, he's tempted to pound on the door one more time, but knows what the doctor will yell. As the time drags on, he tenses up to the point where he wants to punch a wall and scream at the top of his lungs.

All he can think about is Jill.


They lost her at 4:16 AM.


At last, he cries. The drops of liquid steadily dribble down his sulking cheeks, dissolving into the moist skin. Racking tears practically flood, and it's all for the loss of the girl he loves.

The doctor had finally stepped out and Skye tried to push his way past him. However, Hardy had held him back. Eyes averting down, he uttered, "Skye..."

That's when he figured it out, and couldn't stand to hear the rest. He shoved his way in.

So it comes down to this. Every night to follow, there will be no perfect smile to turn to. That smile dazzled him, even though lopsided and goofy. It meant she was having fun. The simple action fully brightens him up on the darkest of days.

All the best days of his life were spent with Jill.

He finds his true inner self because of her.

She opened and raised him up like a wilting flower coming back to life.

During the time he knew her, he felt alive. It was like...he just woke up. It waslike he was waking up from a terrible dream that unsatisfied his happiness and needs.

The dull feelings inside of Skye have resurfaced. They throb, saying that something in his life is missing.

It's because Jill is missing. She's gone, and can never stand by his side again.

Her loud hooting of laughter drums in his ears. She didn't like laughing, but learned to love it when around Skye. That's what she admitted to him two months ago. To tell the truth, he ends up loving laughter as well. Especially Jill's.

Brain jumbled up and flooding with memories of Jill, Skye closes his eyes. There she is, skipping rock with her tongue stuck out in concentration. Her habit of picking on grass, fiddling with it between her hands while talking to him. Different ways she dipped her hands in the water. Most of all, he missed her wonderful hugs that caused him to sigh in content.

His chest aches. Opening his eyes and staring at her still figure, he can't bring himself to believe that she's...gone. He was supposed to happily live with her.

A rapid steady heartbeat brings Skye to whisper, "Jill, I'll always love you. Nobody can replace you, no matter what," Taking a shaky breath, he stifles a yowling sob, "m-m-my best friend, my love, my angel...

"Your heart has stopped beating. But Jill, my heart will always beat for you until I die. Then we can be reunited up there...in the afterlife.

"Until then...I'll miss you with all my heart."

He picks up her cold hand, and presses it to his bare chest. Even though she can't feel the thump rhythm in his chest, he says, "Do you feel this, Jill? I promise my heart will forever and always beat for you."


I hope you liked it as much as I did. This tore me up a little. (:

Please tell me what you think. ~