CHAPTER FOUR
Summary: The story continues…I know chapter three was short, but we must know how open all this to Shakespeare, and exactly what he sees. It did feel incomplete without a proper description of everything, and it was difficult not being able to write their feelings down, but that would destroy chapter three's purpose. I'm sorry, but this one's even shorter, very short, that's the beauty of it. I tried to write some poetry, it sucks but whatever. I forgot, this is supposed to be the summary, well; I don't want to spoil the surprises, so, read on…
Cassius
Cassius sipped his coke, making that gurgly sound he always did, thinking about life, or rather death, and how much it sucked even more than Julius did. Some heaven this was, he wasn't happy. Ever since he had committed suicide, he had never been upset, not about anything, not even that one day when he found that particularly ugly blackhead on his picture-perfect nose; he had forgotten that it was even possible. How could one feel depressed in a place like heaven?
'So, Caius,' said Casca, who was rather fond of pizza, especially with extra cheese and pepperoni, mmmmmm……………………………………………, 'What's going on these days. It's been quite some time since we went out.'
'We went out, like, the day-before-yesterday. And we go out everyday. For every meal, in fact. This has been a long time, but, hello, take a break.'
'Well, I like pizza.'
'I've noticed,' said Caius, 'and you know what's going on these days, the usual. I'm living a quiet, retired life.' He suddenly wished he wasn't. He wished he was at Philippi fighting Mark Antony and Octavius Caesar.
'Remember the good old days,' said Casca. Caius never understood why he called them that. They were terrible times for Rome, with Caesar bossing over everyone and all. Maybe Casca was reminding himself of that to realize how lucky he was now, or maybe he was just plain stupid.
'Yeah,' said Caius, instantly wishing that Brutus did too, his mind automatically shifting to old, so poignant, but yet so perfect memories-
'Cassius. Do you confess so much? Give me your hand.
Brutus. And my heart too.
Cassius. O Brutus!
Brutus. What's the matter?
Cassius. Have not you love enough to bear with me,
When that rash humour which my mother gave me
Makes me forgetfull?'
He smiled, shaking his head.
'What?'
'Nothing.' Cassius went back to drinking his coke, remembering a few of his very own spoken words, which now seemed like a faraway thing of the past, as he picturised them coming out of his mouth.
' "You love me not." Act IV scene III, line 88.
"Come. Antony, and young Octavius, come,
Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius,
For Cassius is aweary of this world:
Hated by one he loves, brav'd by his brother;
Check'd like a bondman; all his faults observ'd,
Set in a notebook, learn'd and conn'd by route,
To cast upon my teeth. O, I could weep
My spirit from mine eyes! There is my dagger,
And here my naked breast; within, which a heart,
Deeper than Pluto's mine, richer than gold:
If that thou be'st a Roman, take it forth.
I, that denied thee gold, will give my heart:
Strike, as thou didst Caesar, for I know,
When thou didst hate him worst, thou lov'dst him better
Than ever thou lov'dst Cassius." Same scene. Lines 92-106
"I cannot drink too much of Brutus' love"'
He then remembered Brutus's reaction, him assuring him of his love. Brotherly love. Brother.
'In law. Ex-brother-in-law,' Cassius repeated, inside his head, 'law law law.'
'Caius,' said Casca worriedly, 'you okay, dude?'
Cassius nodded, then suddenly stopped, 'I suppose. Wait, no, I think I'm going to be sick. I need the bathroom.'
He ran to the bathroom, which was empty. He looked at himself in the mirror. He looked fine, pretty much normal, except his eyes were a bit redder than usual. He sighed and took his contacts out, replacing them with his favourite frameless pair of spectacles. He then took even those out; his eyes were itchy. He washed them, slashing water all over his face, and getting his designer-jeans wet. He didn't even look at them; they would dry. He tried to flatten his hair, wondering if Brutus really loved Julius more than he loved him.
'Of course he doesn't ,' he said, mostly to himself, but before he could assure himself of that, he remembered Portia. Guilt overwhelmed him; he couldn't feel this way, at least for Portia's sake. He was his best friend, for Pete's sake. Best friend. He looked outside, watching the sun set. It seemed to be calling him. He needed some time to think by himself. He took his mobile phone out and dialled Casca's number, even though he was just a few metres away, outside the loo.
'Casc, I'm going home. Bye.' And he hung up without giving Casca a chance to reply.
He opened the window, prepared to jump out, but only to realize that he was thirty-four floors above ground (or fluffy cloud) level.
He ran out, caught the lift, reached the ground floor, and decided to walk home, which was exactly what he did.
He walked. The setting sun shone on his face, as darkness took over. Not exactly our vision of heaven, a setting sun…dismal, so depressing, and yet so perfect, so faultless. No scar, no anything, and yet everything….
As the shadows overcame him,
As darkness replaced light,
As guilt found its way into his hurting heart,
Twisting and turning, not giving up to his fight,
As the stars decided to reveal themselves,
As the feelings inside made themselves known,
As twilight surrendered to night,
His smile submitted to frown,
As the shadows overcame him,
As darkness replaced light,
As sadness substituted all that was good,
He looked till the end point of his sight,
And saw nothing,
But cold duskiness, dimness, and dark…
He wondered hopelessly, would it appear?
For what he was waiting? Some kind of a spark?
As the shadows overcame him,
As darkness replaced light,
He didn't want to take it anymore,
The day was filled instead with night,
As he stood there, the light on his face, gone,
As he stood there, as even heaven seemed hell,
Hurt filled him as much as it could,
As the shadows overcame him, the tears fell.
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