I open my eyes. The cold jarring light of blackness pangs my sight. Where am I? Where is he? What just happened? I remember bits and pieces. I close my heavy eyes again and think. I rack my brain for anything that I can arrange together like a jigsaw puzzle. Like a strike of lightening, I remember. Immediately, my heart aches and my leg stings where the bullet pierced my skin. Why? Small tears of pain and regret fall from my beaten eyes. I try to bring myself up from the damp floor. I strain to see through the thickness of nothing. In the far corner, I can see a faint light. I begin to walk ever so cautiously towards it on one leg, the other following like a trained dog. It turns out to be a very small window in the middle of a door. I fumble my hands around the hard surface and find the knob. I pull with all my might. Twisting, turning, jumping up and down. I try, and try. I can't. I will never be able to. I pound on the door just to relieve my frustrations and hurt. I slide alongside the door, down to the cement ground. Unable to do nothing, but stare at the far corner, which I can know see clearly. It's not that far from where I am and holds a single solitary chair. Seeing the chair, I think of myself. Single. Solitary. Alone. Betrayed. Abandoned. I can't stop the tears. They keep coming and coming. I can't stop the pictures reeling around in my head like a cruel slide-show at a reunion. I scream at myself to stop thinking, stop being, stop breathing. I cry my shrunken, beaten- down self to sleep.
Even in my dreams, or should I call them nightmares, I can't escape my thoughts and memories. My mind wanders back to five hours ago. I never knew five hours could feel like an eternity, but they can. I know now that they can. So much can happen. I wish I never knew this life. Never knew these lies and secrets that hide in everything. Never knew him.
When my head hit my shoulders, I went back merely hours ago. I stared at images imbedded into the back of my eyelids. I'm running away from them, the people who killed my life, my truth. I don't know where I'm going. The shock on my face that appeared only minutes ago was still there. I could still see him there. Helpless. Alone. As soon as I opened the door, I saw him. I saw the blood seeping onto the floor searching for something it couldn't reach. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. I bent down over him and he saw me. I didn't hide from him. I didn't lie. No secrets, a rare freedom that was not worth it.
"Syd," he barely made a sound, "go. Leave here. Don't look back. I don't matter. You do. Go."
"No, I can't. Vaughn, don't think like that. You do matter. You matter to me." At that I lost all control I have had over my emotions. I couldn't talk anymore. The only sounds that I allowed out of my mouth were gasps into streams of tears rolling down over my face.
"I love you," he breathed so heavily, I cried harder than I thought I was capable of.
Without warning, we heard footsteps approaching. I looked at him longingly. I captured his essence and swore to myself I will never forget his face.
"I love you, too," I whispered into his ear, using every muscle to create a smile to put him at ease. He pushed me away and continued in his efforts to get me to leave him alone. I couldn't just leave him, abandon him like that. He told me to go, save myself. The next thing I know I'm running through desolate halls of the echoing museum with a vase that seems useless compared to what's racing through my mind. His face stayed in my mind, and all I seemed to be doing is running. I never stop, never quit, never give up. I kept on running, out through the doors to the fresh air. I didn't see anything, didn't hear anything. I had lost all senses, all capabilities, all emotions. I became cold and distant from the world. I ran for him. I was a machine that kept going on order, no impulse, no soul. I feel the tears flowing and spinning out of control as I run. The picture of me running became fuzzy and his face just stood there in front of me.
"Vaughn!!"
I awoke in a startle. My face was stiff from the gravity pulling at my emotions. I fumble with the hem of my black skirt. It acts as a broom wiping away the dirt, the dust, and the empty tears I had created in my solitude. I dared myself to move. Carefully, I wrote like a child on the beach.-V-a-u-g-h-n-. A single tear drops in the middle of the-V-. I move my skirt one more time, to erase the dust and the hurt.