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'Burnt black by strange decay
Their sinister faces lie;
The lid over each eye,
The grass and coloured clay
More motion have than they,
Joined tot the great sunk silence' (Dead Man's Dump, Isaac Rosenberg)
The shy was devoid of stars. No silver glimmerings of hope. No pale moon to smile upon. He craned his neck to find a lost star, a small sign of light in this darkness. There was none. Looking down he saw nothing. A big, yawning chasm. Black as the sky above him. Big, black and inviting. The darkness of the abyss seemed to pull at him, engulf him. It was pounding in his cranium; let go, let go, let go. Inviting, so inviting, no peace, but no pain either. Nothingness without bliss, without himself. God, how he wanted to escape. Escape from himself. So frighteningly inviting. And yet, he did not dare to jump, nor did he dare to turn around. The voices, the voices were still there and if he turned around he would see their faces. He could hear their hoarse voices. Was there anything else beside these voices. He could not remember. Once he was somewhere else, he had had a life, once. Somewhere where it was warm and safe. People, children who knew him, perhaps even loved him. But that seemed so long ago. So awfully long ago that he doubted that it ever had been real. A dream faded. No, there were only the voices. The abyss and, of course, the voices.
'Why didn't you save us?''You let me die'
'My wife my children. I will never see them again'
'Your fault, your fault. All your fault,'
He did not want to see their faces. He could see their shadows from the corner of his eyes. Once he had turned his head.
Sinister faces dirtied with mud, dirtied with blood.
Grass and coloured clay,
Hollow eyes, ragged skins, pierced with metal.
Eyes hanging on cheeks or gone altogether.
Faces smashed to pieces.
Once he had seen a young boy, barely 17, clutching the side of his neck, his pulsating vein pushing through his slender fingers. Silently he had begged for help.
Leo had reached out for him, wanted to help him.
At his touch the boys flesh fell from his bones. His silent plea for help had turned in a cry of agony which was picked up and multiplied by the voices and faces surrounding the boy.
'Your fault. You let me die. You killed me. Why me? Why did you not save me.'
Leo had fallen to his knees, he had covered his ears. Yet the voices were as much in his mind as they were outside. Closing your ears only made the heart a better listener.
Now he was here, on the edge of the abyss, which was tempting him to let go. To jump.
'Inviting, is it not.'
A melodic voice, not the voices.
'You are not the first one who is tempted, nor the last one who would give in to it. '
Leo turned his head, slowly, carefully, lest he should see the faces. A man with lank, ash- blond hair, dressed in black was standing next to him.
Leo narrowed his eyes. Recognition dawned.
'I've seen you before.'
'We've met. Briefly.'
Leo searched his memories.
'Eliza. Elizabeth was there'
'Death turned his head to look at Leo. Still the same man, he thought, but scarred.
'Yes, she was there.'
'When…' Leo closed his eyes. When was she there? It was hard to think. If only the voices would be silent. If only the abyss would stop pulling at him, perhaps he could think clearly.
'When you died. The first time that is.'
Leo nodded. Yeah, he had died and Elizabeth had been there.
'Ýou were there too.' It was statement, not a question.
Death nodded.
'Indeed, but you weren't for me then. You were for the bastards in white.' He looked up, briefly. His mouth a thin line of disapproval. Leo did not notice.
'The Elders, I became a whitelighter.' His face was strained in the effort of reminiscence.
Death nodded.
'The question is, Leo, are you mine this time.'
'I'm dying? Is that dead?' he looked down at the abyss.
Death shook his head slowly.
'No, it is a way out, but not dead. I have no power there.'
Leo looked up at the man, puzzled.
'Then why are you here?'
Death took a deep breath and looked up at the starless sky.
'Perhaps I'm becoming a bit sentimental. Too long among humans, you pick up some of their habits. I do not care whether you live or die. Two sides of the same scale to me. Although I must admit your dead would tilt it, slightly. I'm here to remind you at what you leave behind, if you jump.'
Leo frowned and closed his eyes. 'I want to escape these voices, this guilt' he whispered.
Death nodded. 'Yes, but you can't cut it away like you would an infected limp. When you jump, you throw everything who you are away. The good and the bad. Are you really willing to do that. Are you really willing to do that to the people who love you?'
Leo opened his eyes. Memories shone in them: 'Wyatt, Chris…Piper, Piper, Piper.' Anger flared up in Leo. How dared this man talk about love while he himself was guilty of nipping so many loves in the buds.
He turned, vehemently.
Faces attacked…… voices screamed …sound of exploding grenades around……screaming men…… ruptured aorta……amputate……last letter home……more pressure……soldier down……guts faling out ……can't hold on..…I'm scared……situation normal, fucked up……It's a goner…burst open…help me……can't see……help me, Mum, help me……too young to die…you let me die……why dind't you save me….. lost protogee.. why didn't you protect me…. Demons, demons, sinister faces….not our war……promise me to write……promise me to…promise…sharp pain …
He fell. Two arms supported him and pushed him up. His head hang on his chest, struggling for air, he tasted blood in his mouth.
'I can't get you out of here,' Death hissed in his ear. 'Your walls of defence have collapsed when those bastards made you human, you can't get them up. So don't try.'
Leo tried to struggle free, but Death's grip tightened.
'Listen to me. Don't listen to the abyss. Think about Piper, your boys. The people you love.'
'What do you know about love' Leo panted.
'You'd be surprised.,' and with that Death vanished.
Leo stared in the abyss, constantly repeating one word; Piper.