The Scarred, the Wounded, and the Healer
Part Two
The Healer.
She looked up at the sky that was filled with thousands of twinkling stars and gave it a tight smile. The time when she, the seas, the earth, and the skies were one was long gone. She was alone now; she had divorced nature sometime during her childhood. She had also divorced everything else since then.
As a little girl, she would sneak out at night and witness the ancient dance between the seas, the earth, and the shore. They would dance in a rhythm that only they could understand as the seas pounded seductively against the earth's warm sand and she, in return, would follow the sea's rhythm by slowly swaying back and forth between waves. She guessed it was beautiful but, in truth, she longed to be a part of it rather than just witness it. She longed to be a part of the earth, a part of the seas, a part of the heavens.
She could remember how the skies would be filled with thousands of twinkling stars, each star shinning so brightly as it illuminated the heavens above. So many nights she had reached out toward the skies, wanting to catch a star with her tiny hands. And every night she would fail as she realized that she was too small to reach the diamonds in the skies. Maybe one day she would be big enough to reach them all, and maybe then she would be able to take the stars and throw them out to the sea. There, they wouldn't be so alone; there, they would be with her.
Her momma had once told her that her daddy was an angel who was always watching her from up above. So every night that she sneaked out to witness the dancing between the earth and the seas, she would also look up at the skies and look for her papa. But he was never there. At least, she could never see him. Maybe her daddy was sleeping out there, or maybe he was just hiding behind that big thick blanket of darkness she liked to call the sky.
When her best friend, Alex, died from leukemia in the first grade, she had believed that he, too, was with her papa. Together, they would be watching her from the infinite skies above. She always preferred to think that they were sitting together on the moon. It was always so much easier to imagine them sitting on the silver moon rather than on the little diamonds that covered the night sky.
She remembered how sad she felt as she imagined them all alone up there. And though the moon seemed to follow her everywhere she went, sometimes she had to go back inside her house and leave the moon, her daddy, and Alex outside sitting on that silk blanket of darkness. Poor Alex. He had always been afraid of the dark, and now he was covered with a blanket of darkness. Maybe her papa would read him a bedtime story while they sat up there on the moon. Maybe he had plugged in a night-light for Alex so he wouldn't be scared at night; and maybe that was the reason the moon shined so brightly. Either way, she had still not liked the idea of them alone out there. So she would sneak out every night to keep them company. She'd climb up the cliffs so they could see her better and she would then wave at them. She had assumed they saw her because she could always see the moon. If she could see the moon, then they could see her too. Together, they would keep themselves company.
But those nights came and went just as her childhood had come and went. In time, she would soon find herself doubting everything her mother had told her. They wouldn't be up there. No one ever was. The moon was alone with not a single being keeping her company. The earth would keep to herself as did the sea, no more nightly dances. And her father and Alex.she didn't know. She did not know whether or not she believed in angels anymore. Maybe death marked an end to life and there was no greater life afterwards. Maybe everyone was alone after death just the way she was alone down here on Earth. No one was loved, especially not her. Everyone was alone, especially her.
She sighed and kept on driving, breaking away from the memories that clouded her mind. It was a calm and silent night, but the emotions that ran through her body were anything but calm, much less silent. No, they tapped and tapped against the inner walls of her mind, begging to be released. And finding no way to release them, she had decided to go out for a long drive.
Honestly, she didn't have a clue of where she was, much less of where she was going. By the signs of it, she still appeared to be pretty close to Roswell. But Roswell or no Roswell, she kept on driving. Her mother had always told her never to drive when her emotions were all over the place. Apparently her mother had forgotten that her emotions were always all over the place.
She sighed and hit the petal of her silver sports car, allowing speed to be the companion she had so much sought after. She pressed the petal harder as the scenery started to become nothing but swirls of colors rapidly fading behind her. She pressed it even harder as she felt the rush her body went through as it fought against the laws of physics.
*****
The Wounded.
She sat on the stool next to his window, poking her head outside and soaking in the night's breeze. He had been looking at the mirror again and having gone through this so many nights before, she gave him his space again. It was what she knew he needed.
She rested her head against the window's cool glass as she watched him run his fingers along the collar of his shirt just like he had done so many nights. She closed her eyes and watched it all unfold. She knew it all by memory now. He would start by running his fingers along his collar until they would find a way to his buttons. They would then slowly begin unbuttoning his shirt until he was able to see all of it. The Scar.
He ran his fingers smoothly along the scar and starred at it intently. He liked to torture himself. She could think of no other reason for why he would obsess himself with it. He liked to torture himself by looking at it on a daily basis and remind himself of the change that had occurred not only in his body but also in his soul. He would look in the mirror for hours, starring intently at the man he had become, starring intently at the only thing left from her.the scar.
It took residence at the upper portion of his body, running from the nook of his neck all the way down to the top right of his chest. It had been a deep cut; shards of glass from the accident had penetrated through his skin and left him a physical reminder of the horror from that night. It was an intricate weaving of the wound that he had suffered, and though the scar had covered up the wound that had left him bleeding inside, it had still altered his appearance, it had altered his body. Never would his body be the same; for now the scar was a part of his body.
And he wouldn't have it any other way. The scar was supposed to be there. It was supposed to remind him on a daily basis that he was not dead yet; that he had survived the tragedy. It was supposed to remind him on a daily basis that he had lost her and lost himself in the process.
She sighed as she watched him sinking into a world of memories. The scar always did that to him. She stood up from her chair and slowly walked up to him. She came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, standing perfectly still and looking into the mirror just the way he was doing.
She saddened at the realization that not even the mirror could see her. It was as though she no longer existed. What happened when a mirror no longer reflected a being? When a man no longer felt his lover's presence? When even the heavens above had seemed to close in on her? What did she do when she was beyond death?
She was dead. She knew that. The mirror's inabilities to give her back her reflection, the tomb that waited for her patiently at the quiet graveyard, her lover's nightly sobs rocking him to sleep. all were a constant reminder that she was dead. And every night, she would pray to the heavens above to give her life.to give her one more opportunity to be with the man she loved, to let her have another last kiss. And just the way he woke up with disappointment after finding out that he was not dead yet, she would also commence her morning with a shattering ache at the realization that the heavens had not granted her prayers.
And standing there with him, gazing into the mirror, she didn't know what wounded her more. witnessing the tears and ache of the only man she had ever loved, or knowing that she no longer existed in this world, that she no longer co-existed with him in this life. Perhaps, that was the greatest ache of all.to know that they now belonged in separate worlds, and that even though she was his angel, he still did not feel her. Maybe today he ached over losing her. But what about tomorrow? If today he did not feel her, tomorrow would he forget her? Would he forget her just the way the mirror had already forgotten her? Would he cease to love her just the way he had ceased to feel her presence? Would she die again in the process just like she had died every morning since her death?
She closed her eyes, brought her lips to his scar, and placed soft kisses across it. She needed to feel his skin beneath her lips once more. She ran her hands along the smooth skin of his chest, wanting to remember what it all felt like. She caressed his skin and kissed his neck just the way he had liked it. She continued her trail of kisses from his neck, down to his chest, paying special attention to his heart. She then brought her ears down to his heart and heard it beating.beating.beating. It was taunting her. It was life, a life she no longer had.
She sighed. What was the use? He didn't feel her kisses anyway. The passion that she so desperately tried to give him died somewhere along the bridge between her heart and his. And it wounded her. Every day it wounded her. She didn't have a scar like him; her wounds could not heal and scar the way his had done. For every day that he did not feel her love, her wounds bled with a greater intensity than the day before. Everyday of death that went by would open her wounds a little more, preventing them from ever healing or ever even scarring.
She cupped his face in her hands as her gaze landed in the pool of his honey-filled eyes. She tried to read his emotions. What was he thinking? What was he feeling? All the emotions passed through his eyes so quickly that she did not know where one ended and the next began. Sadness.confusion.yearning.hope.impatience.irritation, and..
Death?
She shook her head as realization dawned upon her. No, it couldn't be. She cupped his face again and looked back into his eyes. But, no, she was not mistaking. It was there; it was now his predominate thought.
"No, Michael," she whispered. "Please don't."
But determination had set upon his features and her pleads fell upon silent ears.
"No," she cried as she followed a determined Michael out the door. She ran as fast as her small feet would take her as she tried to catch up to him. "Michael!" she yelled.
But he didn't hear her. He never did. "Michael, please!" she pleaded. "You don't want to do this. You don't! You don't! You don't!" she yelled after him.
He got inside his red SUV. He slammed the door. He turned on his ignition. He began to drive. His aura darkened as fast as the SUV gained speed.
The tears that had been threatening to spill earlier were now falling without inhibitions as she watched him drive erratically. He didn't even have a seat belt! "Michael! Listen to me, Dammit!" she cried.
Why was he doing this? He knew the rules. He knew this wasn't the way. "Michael!" she sobbed. "Listen to me! Oh God, please listen to me.this isn't the way," she pleaded.
"You cannot bestow it upon yourself. It has to come naturally, we will not end up together otherwise." She was loosing him. The more erratically he drove and the faster speed the SUV gained, the quicker she was loosing him.
She looked up at the heavens and began to pray. It had never worked when she prayed to be alive again. It had never worked when she prayed for another last kiss. But tonight.she prayed for her prayers, she prayed for his well-being and she prayed for his soul.
******
The Scarred.
The sound of the screeching tires echoed violently through the empty night, awaking all creatures from their deepest slumber. The speed that had become his newest companion danced wickedly with the laws of physics as they pulled on his skin. Blood rushed vigorously through his body and reacquainted itself with his rapidly beating heart. Even the black road that had once ran for an eternity was now swallowed by his speed.
He lifted his gaze for a moment and focused it on the skies above. Even the stars seemed to have stopped twinkling as they held their breaths and watched his erratic behavior from up above. The darkness that took hold over the heavens also watched him intently. It was watching him; it was daring him. And not being one to back away from a dare, he pushed the petal with greater fury.
Not tonight, tonight he would not surrender. Tonight, he would win the war. Tonight he had received the last knockdown. He was tired of fighting and he was ready to win.
He opened the window and brought his hand out. He felt the wind joining forces with the speed; together, they fought violently against the flesh of his hand. Their forces was strong against his flesh but he would not surrender to them. He kept on running against the wind, kept on swallowing the road ahead, and kept on watching the daring darkness. They were strong. But so was he. Tonight, he was starving for revenge against nature. Tonight, he was thirsty to heal his pain.
He was almost there. A few more seconds and he would be there.
He rushed through the road and swerved at the curve. And then.he finally began to see them.
Her Chicken Tree, her Elephant Mountain, the Cliff.
"Chicken!" she spat as she swapped him playfully across his shoulder.
"No chicken," he growled, keeping one eyes focused on the road and the other at her. He noticed how her green emerald eyes started to sparkle with anger. God, did she ever back down from an argument? They would argue about the simplest things and yet he would always love it. It meant he got to see her all riled up.
"Chicken!"
"It's a tree, okay?"
"Michael, it's such a chicken! Look at it," she pointed. "Now, the little palm thingies hanging from the left are the feathers, you see them, Michael? They are right there," she pointed. She leaned her head further and looked at the tree harder, her eyebrows scrunched up, deep in concentration. "Now, the little sticks poking out from the top is the chicken's head."
He looked at her and smiled. She was so cute. She was so perfect. So sexy.his gaze automatically fell on her pouty lips. It took all his strength not to pull over and kiss her long and hard.
"Michael? Michael.?" she demanded. "Michael? Are you even listening to me?" she asked, somewhat annoyed.
"You're beautiful."
She looked at him in surprise. A blush crept up her cheeks as she shyly turned her gaze away from him and looked out the window at her Chicken Tree. How she could quickly go from his sexy loud-mouthed vixen to his sweet and shy baby girl never ceased to puzzle him.
"You're just saying that 'cuz you don't want to admit that it's a chicken."
He looked at her and chuckled. "You can see through me that easily, huh?"
"Yep." she simply answered. She then looked out the window again and began to bounce on her seat. "My elephant! My Elephant! Michael, you see it?"
"Baby, that's a mountain."
"Elephant," she argued. "Oh! Oh! Oh! I have an idea!" she chirped happily. "What do you say we come here tomorrow?"
"To a Mountain? Why a mountain?" he asked, a little confused.
"Pweeeeeease?" she pleaded, giving him her sexiest pout. God, she always knew how to get to him. She was evil. Pure evil.
"What are we going to do at a mountain?"
"I don't know," she smiled. "We could do.stuff?" she smirked as ideas danced wickedly inside the pools of her emerald eyes.
He gulped. Did she just say. 'Stuff'?
Engulfed in the agony of his memories, Michael pulled over to a complete stop at the side of the road. Sure enough, they were still there. Her Elephant Mountain and her Chicken Tree. They stood there patiently as the skies above seemed to take their side in this never-ending war. Michael cursed in anger. Of course, her Elephant and her Chicken had to also be a part of nature. They too, would have to be his enemies. And so they, too, glared at him. They, too, played with him. They played with his soul. They were also his enemy in this war that he had engaged in and had time and time again. They, too, knew his memories well. They, too, knew what was coming ahead. And for the last seven months, they had never ceased to remind him; for every time he stood right before this mountain and this tree, he couldn't help but be bombarded with memories of a happier life that was now lost and gone forever.
"You took her away from me!" he yelled to them all as he pounded vigorously against his steering wheel.
"Give her back!" he yelled. "Give her to me! I want her back," he cried.
They listened to his demands and yet made no signs of giving him back what he most wanted. So he looked up once again. He looked up, past the silver moon to which he had propelled his dreams, past the stars that had long-ago stopped twinkling, past the skies that had denied him his love for the past seven months. He looked past all the heavens and tried to look for her.
"It's your Chicken," he sniffed. He looked up at the heavens. Nothing.
"It's your Elephant Mountain," he choked. "Please.tell them to bring you back to me," he whispered.
"Please!" he demanded, "Come back to me!"
He starred at the heavens, waiting for her. Maybe the heavens hated him. Maybe they were engaged in a war. But her? Not her. She loved him, he would take his side. She would answer.she would come back.
But several minutes passed and she still showed no signs of answering. But he waited.
And he kept on waiting. He waited for her. She would come back.
Time seemed to cease running as the moon began to hide behind her Elephant Mountain. But still, she wasn't here. So he kept on waiting. Shadows engulfed the valleys and the night's chill grew colder as the night grew older.
Still, she hadn't come.
She was like them. She was exactly like them. She wanted to hurt him too.
"Fine then," he yelled at her. "Hurt me!" He wiped the tears that had made their way down his cheek. "Hurt me just like them!"
"Stay with them," he whispered. "But I'll be joining you tonight."
He looked at his enemies one last time. He gripped the steering wheel with such a feverish hold that his knuckles soon met crimson as he looked at them with a pure hatred that ran violently through his body. They glared and kept attacking him with memories. Memories. The skies fought him with power. They taunted him. But this mountain and this tree fought him with memories, with the very same memories that killed him time and time again.
She had been giggling at the face he had made when she had told him her plans at the mountain. If they hadn't been in a car, he would have bet anything that she would be rolling over in laughter.
The emeralds in her eyes began to water and her face began to grow red from laughter.
He looked over at her, completely lost in her spirit. And as he listened to her laughter, he knew he couldn't ever love anyone else like he loved her. The stars were shining brightly above them, joining her in her laughter. Even the moon smiled as it guided them and illuminated the road with a silver glow. Heck, elephants and chickens were also laughing. He knew right then that he couldn't be happier.
All of the sudden, her laughter stopped and she was looking at him intently. She had gone from laughing to seducing. She was his sexy vixen again. The spark in her eyes was one of passion and the pleading of her lips was one of lust.
"Kiss me?"
"Baby.I."
"Please? I just need to feel that you lo."
"I'm driving."
She nodded as the spark in her eyes died and hurt substituted its place. " I know. I'm sorry, I should have known better," she said as she leaned back in her seat. "Do you love me, Michael?"
"You know I do," he whispered.
"But why don't you ever say it?"
"Listen, as soon as we get home we'll."
The two sets of headlights coming straight at him cut him off short.
A trailer.
A motorcycle.
Lights. Brighter. Brighter.
Too much.
Too little time.
A loud scream.
He veered out of the way as he hit the breaks with all his might. He missed the trailer. He missed the motorcycle. The car swerved out of control.
A cliff.
A deafening sound of screeching tires.
A piercing sound of shattering glass.
Another painful Scream.
And then there was Silence.
Seconds passed. Minutes passed. Maybe an eternity. He woke up startled in a cloud of smoke. The shattering noise that he had heard earlier was now replaced by an eerie silence. Pieces of glass lied scattered through out the car and the road in which he had once traveled was now no where to be seen. His car was now at the bottom of a cliff as it had collided into a tree.
His baby! Where was she? Her seat was empty. Where was she? Only nature, as its witness, knew for how long he had been unconscious. Where was she? The warm blood soaking through his shirt and trickling down his chest was the result of several pieces of broken glass puncturing through his skin. Where was she? His head was spinning in circles. Where was she?
Where was she?
Where was she?
He screamed her name but was greeted with silence. He desperately ran out of the car, ignoring the glass in his chest that pierced deeper into his skin with every one of his moments. Where was she?
The seconds that had elapsed as he tried to find her soon felt like an eternity. But there, right before him, consumed by the darkness, he found her body. Limp, without any signs of life whatsoever. He killed her! He killed her and he hadn't even told her he loved her.
He frantically ran by her side. Blood. There was so much blood. She was so warm. It was her blood. It was her blood what was so warm. He lifted her head and looked into her eyes. He saw her eyes fluttering and thanked the heavens above. Alive. She was alive. She was not dead. Everything would be all right.
He held her close to his body, unwilling to let go of her for even a second. Help. He needed help. He looked around but everything was deserted. Even the skies had seemed to turn its back against him as dark clouds started to move in.
"Help!" he yelled. "Anyone out there? Help." he choked. "This can't be happening," he cried. "My baby is dying and."
"Michael," he heard a faint whisper. She grasped his arm and held it tightly, squeezing it gently.
He looked back down at her; back down at the face he loved so much and that he was so rapidly losing.
"Shhh, Baby. It's gonna be alright okay? It's gonna be alright." He stroked her hair and held her tight. She was trembling so badly, so so badly. "It's going to be alright. It's going to be alright," he repeated. "We're going to go home and it's going to be alright."
"Michael? Please." she choked.
"It's going to be alright. You trust me?" he asked, trying to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill.
"I don't want to die, Michael," she cried. "Please don't let me die."
"You wont, I promise, baby. You won't die," he whispered, biting his lower lip as the knot in his throat tightened.
"I.there's still.there's still so many.many things we need.need to do," she whispered.
He held her closer and nodded. She was breathing very heavily and her body couldn't stop trembling. He could feel her warm blood mixing with his. It wouldn't stop. Her blood would not stop.
"I love you, Michael."
Tears that had once been foreigners to the territory of his eyes now spilled uncontrollably. "Baby, don't.please don't talk. Listen, the ambulance will be here in a minute and it's all going to be alright."
"W.will.will.y.you.love.me.a.aft.after.death?" she choked, wincing at the pain that ran through her body.
"Dammit, Baby, Don't do this," he yelled. "I need you!" He cried. "Don't leave me! Please! Don't leave me!" He could feel her dying. His love was dying in his arms. He felt her eyes start to close and the strength that it took her to hold on to his hand became weaker and weaker. And as her strength fled so did her ability to breathe.
"I ."she gasped for air, "I.w.wont .l.leave. I'll al.always.always be.he.he. here for you, Mi.Michael. Always." She gave him a reassuring smile and tried to squeeze his hand with the little strength she had left.
"But I love you so much. So so much." He held on tightly to her hand as he watched death take over her body.
She smiled weakly. She knew. "Kiss me, Mi.Michael."
He looked down at her pain-stricken face, sadness evident in his eyes. He tried to swallow her face with his sight, never wanting to forget a single thing about her. He couldn't go on any more. He was dying as she died in his arms. He was dying. Yet caught in the precipice of his agony, he nodded. For she had pleaded and he would obey.
During her final moments, he continued to tightly clutch her cold trembling hand as he brought his warm lips down to hers in a tender kiss. But half- way during his kiss, the tenderness with which he had started soon became passion. He kissed her long and hard just the way he had wanted to do while they had been in the car. His tongue fought for dominance, dominance for her life. It was about control. He needed control. He would not let her die. He needed her. He loved her. And then.her hand lost its final grip.
He pulled away and looked into her eyes. They were empty. She was gone.
He looked down at her perfectly still body. He stroked her face gently and let out a piercing cry of agony. And looking down on that perfectly still figure laying his arms, he allowed himself to cry harder. But he loved her! she couldn't leave! Had he told her that? Had he told her he loved her? He clutched her body closer to his as he cried harder.
"I love you!" he screamed.
"I love you! I love you! I love you!" he screamed louder.
And nothing but the memories of his screaming had echoed through night. And that's how he stayed. Crying over her lifeless body as her blood still penetrated through his shirt. It was over her lifeless body that he allowed his own body to shake with uncontrollable sobs as he screamed her name over and over again, an action he would soon become accustomed to. He had lost her and lost his life in the process.
Michael starred at the empty road before him. He starred at the tree, the mountain, and the cliff that had stolen her. He looked up at the daring darkness. He looked at the dull stars and the laughing silver moon. Up to this day, he had been dead. They had long killed him.
He looked at the road once more and started the engine to his SUV. An accident that had happened seven months ago in this very place would repeat itself again tonight. The SUV would fall the way his car had done. This time, however, it would be different. Tonight, he would not be a survivor. Tonight, he would not have someone to lose. Tonight, he would not be left empty. Tonight, he would be with her. Tonight he would win the war.
The cliff was finally here. He just had to swerve. He looked up at the sky and smiled; whipping away the final tears his eyes would shed. "We'll meet again tonight, baby."
He prepared himself for the accident to repeat itself; knowing that after he swerved the car toward the side of the cliff everything would happen too fast for his mind to comprehend.
And surely, it did.
The sound of the screeching tires.
The deafening sound of the breaking glass.
The sight of a silver sports car colliding right into him.
This time, the last sound echoing through his head as he swerved toward the cliff was not the painful scream of his long-lost love. This time, it was the piercing scream of another female. It was the piercing scream of that female in that silver sports car.
Part Two
The Healer.
She looked up at the sky that was filled with thousands of twinkling stars and gave it a tight smile. The time when she, the seas, the earth, and the skies were one was long gone. She was alone now; she had divorced nature sometime during her childhood. She had also divorced everything else since then.
As a little girl, she would sneak out at night and witness the ancient dance between the seas, the earth, and the shore. They would dance in a rhythm that only they could understand as the seas pounded seductively against the earth's warm sand and she, in return, would follow the sea's rhythm by slowly swaying back and forth between waves. She guessed it was beautiful but, in truth, she longed to be a part of it rather than just witness it. She longed to be a part of the earth, a part of the seas, a part of the heavens.
She could remember how the skies would be filled with thousands of twinkling stars, each star shinning so brightly as it illuminated the heavens above. So many nights she had reached out toward the skies, wanting to catch a star with her tiny hands. And every night she would fail as she realized that she was too small to reach the diamonds in the skies. Maybe one day she would be big enough to reach them all, and maybe then she would be able to take the stars and throw them out to the sea. There, they wouldn't be so alone; there, they would be with her.
Her momma had once told her that her daddy was an angel who was always watching her from up above. So every night that she sneaked out to witness the dancing between the earth and the seas, she would also look up at the skies and look for her papa. But he was never there. At least, she could never see him. Maybe her daddy was sleeping out there, or maybe he was just hiding behind that big thick blanket of darkness she liked to call the sky.
When her best friend, Alex, died from leukemia in the first grade, she had believed that he, too, was with her papa. Together, they would be watching her from the infinite skies above. She always preferred to think that they were sitting together on the moon. It was always so much easier to imagine them sitting on the silver moon rather than on the little diamonds that covered the night sky.
She remembered how sad she felt as she imagined them all alone up there. And though the moon seemed to follow her everywhere she went, sometimes she had to go back inside her house and leave the moon, her daddy, and Alex outside sitting on that silk blanket of darkness. Poor Alex. He had always been afraid of the dark, and now he was covered with a blanket of darkness. Maybe her papa would read him a bedtime story while they sat up there on the moon. Maybe he had plugged in a night-light for Alex so he wouldn't be scared at night; and maybe that was the reason the moon shined so brightly. Either way, she had still not liked the idea of them alone out there. So she would sneak out every night to keep them company. She'd climb up the cliffs so they could see her better and she would then wave at them. She had assumed they saw her because she could always see the moon. If she could see the moon, then they could see her too. Together, they would keep themselves company.
But those nights came and went just as her childhood had come and went. In time, she would soon find herself doubting everything her mother had told her. They wouldn't be up there. No one ever was. The moon was alone with not a single being keeping her company. The earth would keep to herself as did the sea, no more nightly dances. And her father and Alex.she didn't know. She did not know whether or not she believed in angels anymore. Maybe death marked an end to life and there was no greater life afterwards. Maybe everyone was alone after death just the way she was alone down here on Earth. No one was loved, especially not her. Everyone was alone, especially her.
She sighed and kept on driving, breaking away from the memories that clouded her mind. It was a calm and silent night, but the emotions that ran through her body were anything but calm, much less silent. No, they tapped and tapped against the inner walls of her mind, begging to be released. And finding no way to release them, she had decided to go out for a long drive.
Honestly, she didn't have a clue of where she was, much less of where she was going. By the signs of it, she still appeared to be pretty close to Roswell. But Roswell or no Roswell, she kept on driving. Her mother had always told her never to drive when her emotions were all over the place. Apparently her mother had forgotten that her emotions were always all over the place.
She sighed and hit the petal of her silver sports car, allowing speed to be the companion she had so much sought after. She pressed the petal harder as the scenery started to become nothing but swirls of colors rapidly fading behind her. She pressed it even harder as she felt the rush her body went through as it fought against the laws of physics.
*****
The Wounded.
She sat on the stool next to his window, poking her head outside and soaking in the night's breeze. He had been looking at the mirror again and having gone through this so many nights before, she gave him his space again. It was what she knew he needed.
She rested her head against the window's cool glass as she watched him run his fingers along the collar of his shirt just like he had done so many nights. She closed her eyes and watched it all unfold. She knew it all by memory now. He would start by running his fingers along his collar until they would find a way to his buttons. They would then slowly begin unbuttoning his shirt until he was able to see all of it. The Scar.
He ran his fingers smoothly along the scar and starred at it intently. He liked to torture himself. She could think of no other reason for why he would obsess himself with it. He liked to torture himself by looking at it on a daily basis and remind himself of the change that had occurred not only in his body but also in his soul. He would look in the mirror for hours, starring intently at the man he had become, starring intently at the only thing left from her.the scar.
It took residence at the upper portion of his body, running from the nook of his neck all the way down to the top right of his chest. It had been a deep cut; shards of glass from the accident had penetrated through his skin and left him a physical reminder of the horror from that night. It was an intricate weaving of the wound that he had suffered, and though the scar had covered up the wound that had left him bleeding inside, it had still altered his appearance, it had altered his body. Never would his body be the same; for now the scar was a part of his body.
And he wouldn't have it any other way. The scar was supposed to be there. It was supposed to remind him on a daily basis that he was not dead yet; that he had survived the tragedy. It was supposed to remind him on a daily basis that he had lost her and lost himself in the process.
She sighed as she watched him sinking into a world of memories. The scar always did that to him. She stood up from her chair and slowly walked up to him. She came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, standing perfectly still and looking into the mirror just the way he was doing.
She saddened at the realization that not even the mirror could see her. It was as though she no longer existed. What happened when a mirror no longer reflected a being? When a man no longer felt his lover's presence? When even the heavens above had seemed to close in on her? What did she do when she was beyond death?
She was dead. She knew that. The mirror's inabilities to give her back her reflection, the tomb that waited for her patiently at the quiet graveyard, her lover's nightly sobs rocking him to sleep. all were a constant reminder that she was dead. And every night, she would pray to the heavens above to give her life.to give her one more opportunity to be with the man she loved, to let her have another last kiss. And just the way he woke up with disappointment after finding out that he was not dead yet, she would also commence her morning with a shattering ache at the realization that the heavens had not granted her prayers.
And standing there with him, gazing into the mirror, she didn't know what wounded her more. witnessing the tears and ache of the only man she had ever loved, or knowing that she no longer existed in this world, that she no longer co-existed with him in this life. Perhaps, that was the greatest ache of all.to know that they now belonged in separate worlds, and that even though she was his angel, he still did not feel her. Maybe today he ached over losing her. But what about tomorrow? If today he did not feel her, tomorrow would he forget her? Would he forget her just the way the mirror had already forgotten her? Would he cease to love her just the way he had ceased to feel her presence? Would she die again in the process just like she had died every morning since her death?
She closed her eyes, brought her lips to his scar, and placed soft kisses across it. She needed to feel his skin beneath her lips once more. She ran her hands along the smooth skin of his chest, wanting to remember what it all felt like. She caressed his skin and kissed his neck just the way he had liked it. She continued her trail of kisses from his neck, down to his chest, paying special attention to his heart. She then brought her ears down to his heart and heard it beating.beating.beating. It was taunting her. It was life, a life she no longer had.
She sighed. What was the use? He didn't feel her kisses anyway. The passion that she so desperately tried to give him died somewhere along the bridge between her heart and his. And it wounded her. Every day it wounded her. She didn't have a scar like him; her wounds could not heal and scar the way his had done. For every day that he did not feel her love, her wounds bled with a greater intensity than the day before. Everyday of death that went by would open her wounds a little more, preventing them from ever healing or ever even scarring.
She cupped his face in her hands as her gaze landed in the pool of his honey-filled eyes. She tried to read his emotions. What was he thinking? What was he feeling? All the emotions passed through his eyes so quickly that she did not know where one ended and the next began. Sadness.confusion.yearning.hope.impatience.irritation, and..
Death?
She shook her head as realization dawned upon her. No, it couldn't be. She cupped his face again and looked back into his eyes. But, no, she was not mistaking. It was there; it was now his predominate thought.
"No, Michael," she whispered. "Please don't."
But determination had set upon his features and her pleads fell upon silent ears.
"No," she cried as she followed a determined Michael out the door. She ran as fast as her small feet would take her as she tried to catch up to him. "Michael!" she yelled.
But he didn't hear her. He never did. "Michael, please!" she pleaded. "You don't want to do this. You don't! You don't! You don't!" she yelled after him.
He got inside his red SUV. He slammed the door. He turned on his ignition. He began to drive. His aura darkened as fast as the SUV gained speed.
The tears that had been threatening to spill earlier were now falling without inhibitions as she watched him drive erratically. He didn't even have a seat belt! "Michael! Listen to me, Dammit!" she cried.
Why was he doing this? He knew the rules. He knew this wasn't the way. "Michael!" she sobbed. "Listen to me! Oh God, please listen to me.this isn't the way," she pleaded.
"You cannot bestow it upon yourself. It has to come naturally, we will not end up together otherwise." She was loosing him. The more erratically he drove and the faster speed the SUV gained, the quicker she was loosing him.
She looked up at the heavens and began to pray. It had never worked when she prayed to be alive again. It had never worked when she prayed for another last kiss. But tonight.she prayed for her prayers, she prayed for his well-being and she prayed for his soul.
******
The Scarred.
The sound of the screeching tires echoed violently through the empty night, awaking all creatures from their deepest slumber. The speed that had become his newest companion danced wickedly with the laws of physics as they pulled on his skin. Blood rushed vigorously through his body and reacquainted itself with his rapidly beating heart. Even the black road that had once ran for an eternity was now swallowed by his speed.
He lifted his gaze for a moment and focused it on the skies above. Even the stars seemed to have stopped twinkling as they held their breaths and watched his erratic behavior from up above. The darkness that took hold over the heavens also watched him intently. It was watching him; it was daring him. And not being one to back away from a dare, he pushed the petal with greater fury.
Not tonight, tonight he would not surrender. Tonight, he would win the war. Tonight he had received the last knockdown. He was tired of fighting and he was ready to win.
He opened the window and brought his hand out. He felt the wind joining forces with the speed; together, they fought violently against the flesh of his hand. Their forces was strong against his flesh but he would not surrender to them. He kept on running against the wind, kept on swallowing the road ahead, and kept on watching the daring darkness. They were strong. But so was he. Tonight, he was starving for revenge against nature. Tonight, he was thirsty to heal his pain.
He was almost there. A few more seconds and he would be there.
He rushed through the road and swerved at the curve. And then.he finally began to see them.
Her Chicken Tree, her Elephant Mountain, the Cliff.
"Chicken!" she spat as she swapped him playfully across his shoulder.
"No chicken," he growled, keeping one eyes focused on the road and the other at her. He noticed how her green emerald eyes started to sparkle with anger. God, did she ever back down from an argument? They would argue about the simplest things and yet he would always love it. It meant he got to see her all riled up.
"Chicken!"
"It's a tree, okay?"
"Michael, it's such a chicken! Look at it," she pointed. "Now, the little palm thingies hanging from the left are the feathers, you see them, Michael? They are right there," she pointed. She leaned her head further and looked at the tree harder, her eyebrows scrunched up, deep in concentration. "Now, the little sticks poking out from the top is the chicken's head."
He looked at her and smiled. She was so cute. She was so perfect. So sexy.his gaze automatically fell on her pouty lips. It took all his strength not to pull over and kiss her long and hard.
"Michael? Michael.?" she demanded. "Michael? Are you even listening to me?" she asked, somewhat annoyed.
"You're beautiful."
She looked at him in surprise. A blush crept up her cheeks as she shyly turned her gaze away from him and looked out the window at her Chicken Tree. How she could quickly go from his sexy loud-mouthed vixen to his sweet and shy baby girl never ceased to puzzle him.
"You're just saying that 'cuz you don't want to admit that it's a chicken."
He looked at her and chuckled. "You can see through me that easily, huh?"
"Yep." she simply answered. She then looked out the window again and began to bounce on her seat. "My elephant! My Elephant! Michael, you see it?"
"Baby, that's a mountain."
"Elephant," she argued. "Oh! Oh! Oh! I have an idea!" she chirped happily. "What do you say we come here tomorrow?"
"To a Mountain? Why a mountain?" he asked, a little confused.
"Pweeeeeease?" she pleaded, giving him her sexiest pout. God, she always knew how to get to him. She was evil. Pure evil.
"What are we going to do at a mountain?"
"I don't know," she smiled. "We could do.stuff?" she smirked as ideas danced wickedly inside the pools of her emerald eyes.
He gulped. Did she just say. 'Stuff'?
Engulfed in the agony of his memories, Michael pulled over to a complete stop at the side of the road. Sure enough, they were still there. Her Elephant Mountain and her Chicken Tree. They stood there patiently as the skies above seemed to take their side in this never-ending war. Michael cursed in anger. Of course, her Elephant and her Chicken had to also be a part of nature. They too, would have to be his enemies. And so they, too, glared at him. They, too, played with him. They played with his soul. They were also his enemy in this war that he had engaged in and had time and time again. They, too, knew his memories well. They, too, knew what was coming ahead. And for the last seven months, they had never ceased to remind him; for every time he stood right before this mountain and this tree, he couldn't help but be bombarded with memories of a happier life that was now lost and gone forever.
"You took her away from me!" he yelled to them all as he pounded vigorously against his steering wheel.
"Give her back!" he yelled. "Give her to me! I want her back," he cried.
They listened to his demands and yet made no signs of giving him back what he most wanted. So he looked up once again. He looked up, past the silver moon to which he had propelled his dreams, past the stars that had long-ago stopped twinkling, past the skies that had denied him his love for the past seven months. He looked past all the heavens and tried to look for her.
"It's your Chicken," he sniffed. He looked up at the heavens. Nothing.
"It's your Elephant Mountain," he choked. "Please.tell them to bring you back to me," he whispered.
"Please!" he demanded, "Come back to me!"
He starred at the heavens, waiting for her. Maybe the heavens hated him. Maybe they were engaged in a war. But her? Not her. She loved him, he would take his side. She would answer.she would come back.
But several minutes passed and she still showed no signs of answering. But he waited.
And he kept on waiting. He waited for her. She would come back.
Time seemed to cease running as the moon began to hide behind her Elephant Mountain. But still, she wasn't here. So he kept on waiting. Shadows engulfed the valleys and the night's chill grew colder as the night grew older.
Still, she hadn't come.
She was like them. She was exactly like them. She wanted to hurt him too.
"Fine then," he yelled at her. "Hurt me!" He wiped the tears that had made their way down his cheek. "Hurt me just like them!"
"Stay with them," he whispered. "But I'll be joining you tonight."
He looked at his enemies one last time. He gripped the steering wheel with such a feverish hold that his knuckles soon met crimson as he looked at them with a pure hatred that ran violently through his body. They glared and kept attacking him with memories. Memories. The skies fought him with power. They taunted him. But this mountain and this tree fought him with memories, with the very same memories that killed him time and time again.
She had been giggling at the face he had made when she had told him her plans at the mountain. If they hadn't been in a car, he would have bet anything that she would be rolling over in laughter.
The emeralds in her eyes began to water and her face began to grow red from laughter.
He looked over at her, completely lost in her spirit. And as he listened to her laughter, he knew he couldn't ever love anyone else like he loved her. The stars were shining brightly above them, joining her in her laughter. Even the moon smiled as it guided them and illuminated the road with a silver glow. Heck, elephants and chickens were also laughing. He knew right then that he couldn't be happier.
All of the sudden, her laughter stopped and she was looking at him intently. She had gone from laughing to seducing. She was his sexy vixen again. The spark in her eyes was one of passion and the pleading of her lips was one of lust.
"Kiss me?"
"Baby.I."
"Please? I just need to feel that you lo."
"I'm driving."
She nodded as the spark in her eyes died and hurt substituted its place. " I know. I'm sorry, I should have known better," she said as she leaned back in her seat. "Do you love me, Michael?"
"You know I do," he whispered.
"But why don't you ever say it?"
"Listen, as soon as we get home we'll."
The two sets of headlights coming straight at him cut him off short.
A trailer.
A motorcycle.
Lights. Brighter. Brighter.
Too much.
Too little time.
A loud scream.
He veered out of the way as he hit the breaks with all his might. He missed the trailer. He missed the motorcycle. The car swerved out of control.
A cliff.
A deafening sound of screeching tires.
A piercing sound of shattering glass.
Another painful Scream.
And then there was Silence.
Seconds passed. Minutes passed. Maybe an eternity. He woke up startled in a cloud of smoke. The shattering noise that he had heard earlier was now replaced by an eerie silence. Pieces of glass lied scattered through out the car and the road in which he had once traveled was now no where to be seen. His car was now at the bottom of a cliff as it had collided into a tree.
His baby! Where was she? Her seat was empty. Where was she? Only nature, as its witness, knew for how long he had been unconscious. Where was she? The warm blood soaking through his shirt and trickling down his chest was the result of several pieces of broken glass puncturing through his skin. Where was she? His head was spinning in circles. Where was she?
Where was she?
Where was she?
He screamed her name but was greeted with silence. He desperately ran out of the car, ignoring the glass in his chest that pierced deeper into his skin with every one of his moments. Where was she?
The seconds that had elapsed as he tried to find her soon felt like an eternity. But there, right before him, consumed by the darkness, he found her body. Limp, without any signs of life whatsoever. He killed her! He killed her and he hadn't even told her he loved her.
He frantically ran by her side. Blood. There was so much blood. She was so warm. It was her blood. It was her blood what was so warm. He lifted her head and looked into her eyes. He saw her eyes fluttering and thanked the heavens above. Alive. She was alive. She was not dead. Everything would be all right.
He held her close to his body, unwilling to let go of her for even a second. Help. He needed help. He looked around but everything was deserted. Even the skies had seemed to turn its back against him as dark clouds started to move in.
"Help!" he yelled. "Anyone out there? Help." he choked. "This can't be happening," he cried. "My baby is dying and."
"Michael," he heard a faint whisper. She grasped his arm and held it tightly, squeezing it gently.
He looked back down at her; back down at the face he loved so much and that he was so rapidly losing.
"Shhh, Baby. It's gonna be alright okay? It's gonna be alright." He stroked her hair and held her tight. She was trembling so badly, so so badly. "It's going to be alright. It's going to be alright," he repeated. "We're going to go home and it's going to be alright."
"Michael? Please." she choked.
"It's going to be alright. You trust me?" he asked, trying to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill.
"I don't want to die, Michael," she cried. "Please don't let me die."
"You wont, I promise, baby. You won't die," he whispered, biting his lower lip as the knot in his throat tightened.
"I.there's still.there's still so many.many things we need.need to do," she whispered.
He held her closer and nodded. She was breathing very heavily and her body couldn't stop trembling. He could feel her warm blood mixing with his. It wouldn't stop. Her blood would not stop.
"I love you, Michael."
Tears that had once been foreigners to the territory of his eyes now spilled uncontrollably. "Baby, don't.please don't talk. Listen, the ambulance will be here in a minute and it's all going to be alright."
"W.will.will.y.you.love.me.a.aft.after.death?" she choked, wincing at the pain that ran through her body.
"Dammit, Baby, Don't do this," he yelled. "I need you!" He cried. "Don't leave me! Please! Don't leave me!" He could feel her dying. His love was dying in his arms. He felt her eyes start to close and the strength that it took her to hold on to his hand became weaker and weaker. And as her strength fled so did her ability to breathe.
"I ."she gasped for air, "I.w.wont .l.leave. I'll al.always.always be.he.he. here for you, Mi.Michael. Always." She gave him a reassuring smile and tried to squeeze his hand with the little strength she had left.
"But I love you so much. So so much." He held on tightly to her hand as he watched death take over her body.
She smiled weakly. She knew. "Kiss me, Mi.Michael."
He looked down at her pain-stricken face, sadness evident in his eyes. He tried to swallow her face with his sight, never wanting to forget a single thing about her. He couldn't go on any more. He was dying as she died in his arms. He was dying. Yet caught in the precipice of his agony, he nodded. For she had pleaded and he would obey.
During her final moments, he continued to tightly clutch her cold trembling hand as he brought his warm lips down to hers in a tender kiss. But half- way during his kiss, the tenderness with which he had started soon became passion. He kissed her long and hard just the way he had wanted to do while they had been in the car. His tongue fought for dominance, dominance for her life. It was about control. He needed control. He would not let her die. He needed her. He loved her. And then.her hand lost its final grip.
He pulled away and looked into her eyes. They were empty. She was gone.
He looked down at her perfectly still body. He stroked her face gently and let out a piercing cry of agony. And looking down on that perfectly still figure laying his arms, he allowed himself to cry harder. But he loved her! she couldn't leave! Had he told her that? Had he told her he loved her? He clutched her body closer to his as he cried harder.
"I love you!" he screamed.
"I love you! I love you! I love you!" he screamed louder.
And nothing but the memories of his screaming had echoed through night. And that's how he stayed. Crying over her lifeless body as her blood still penetrated through his shirt. It was over her lifeless body that he allowed his own body to shake with uncontrollable sobs as he screamed her name over and over again, an action he would soon become accustomed to. He had lost her and lost his life in the process.
Michael starred at the empty road before him. He starred at the tree, the mountain, and the cliff that had stolen her. He looked up at the daring darkness. He looked at the dull stars and the laughing silver moon. Up to this day, he had been dead. They had long killed him.
He looked at the road once more and started the engine to his SUV. An accident that had happened seven months ago in this very place would repeat itself again tonight. The SUV would fall the way his car had done. This time, however, it would be different. Tonight, he would not be a survivor. Tonight, he would not have someone to lose. Tonight, he would not be left empty. Tonight, he would be with her. Tonight he would win the war.
The cliff was finally here. He just had to swerve. He looked up at the sky and smiled; whipping away the final tears his eyes would shed. "We'll meet again tonight, baby."
He prepared himself for the accident to repeat itself; knowing that after he swerved the car toward the side of the cliff everything would happen too fast for his mind to comprehend.
And surely, it did.
The sound of the screeching tires.
The deafening sound of the breaking glass.
The sight of a silver sports car colliding right into him.
This time, the last sound echoing through his head as he swerved toward the cliff was not the painful scream of his long-lost love. This time, it was the piercing scream of another female. It was the piercing scream of that female in that silver sports car.