Absently I tapped the pen on the hard slick surface of the mahogany desk, comforted somehow to hear even this slight sound in the otherwise silent office. I couldn't stand silence. It gave way too easily to thoughts that would scream noiselessly in my head until the nothingness that surrounded me seemed to roar and become unbearably hot and suffocating. And so I tapped and tapped, and strained my ears to hear the distant commotion outside the factory as the guests left, and paid careful attention to the snapping of the fire that blazed on even as the hot summer afternoon morphed rapidly into the hot summer evening.
In vain I tried to decide what sort of note to write Heaven. A little taste of the apology I had to make or no mention of my purpose for returning to Winnerrow at all? Perhaps I could leave my phone number and request that she call me, or maybe more directly ask her to meet me. Ah, no one sentence was perfect, not when there was so much I needed to say and so little opportunity to say it at this very moment. And so many repercussions a small message may have - a tone too casual might convince her further that I didn't care for her, and saying too much too soon was dangerous as well. Never before had I had so much trouble composing a simple letter!
All right. Just a small something to let her know I'd been here and that I wanted very much to speak with her. No blank paper lay atop the desk so my hand fell to the brass handle of a drawer that slid smoothly open when I tugged it. Several small notepads lay in the well-organized drawer, and from the array I selected a plain white square to write upon. Just before pushing the drawer shut, a glint of something silver caught my eye and forced me to take a second look at the office supplies.
An exacto knife lay inconspicuously between a stapler and a wooden ruler. As if my hand were being controlled by some outside force, my fingers plucked the knife from it's place and let it fall softly into my palm. The plastic casing was cool and smooth against my skin and the gleaming metal of the blade was spotlessly clean and dangerously sharp. An image flashed in my mind of slicing my own tender flesh with a blade so much like this one. Razor sharp and thin enough to create a clean incision from whence reddish-black blood poured.
So hopeless I'd felt then, at that time and in that place. And even now I could still understand the thought process I'd had - I was a curse to my family, a desperate floater in a world that would never be mine, and wouldn't it be so much easier just to end it all before it grew worse and worse? I still remembered the pain I'd felt, not of the cool metal carving into my skin but the ache that constricted my heart and clouded my mind until I could see nothing around me but the cold, dark wasteland of eternity. And, sometimes, though I tried to keep such thoughts far at bay, I still wondered if the world would be better without me, after all. Perhaps the dream I'd had of everyone I loved being miserable in my absence was simply the result of the feverish grip death had on me and held absolutely no truth. Maybe there was still time to prevent the inevitable pain my existence would bring to those around me, and to myself...
No, Troy. Don't entertain that idea for a moment longer. You've come so far from that horrible moment of your life. Don't return now, not when you must still do everything possible to erase the mistakes you made with Heaven, and let her know, once and for all, that you love her more than life itself.
Feeling frightened of the darkness that had so quickly and easily enveloped me, I dropped the exacto knife back into the drawer, nudged it shut, and flicked my eyes to the wall clock. How had so much time already passed? The sky beyond the window was a deep cerulean now and though I searched for sound outside I heard no more voices or car engines.
I panicked at the thought of a factory worker or Casteel family member finding me here, trespassing in Heaven's office. Quickly I focused my attention on the paper that lay in anticipation of my pen. Sighing nervously and setting the ballpoint down, I began to write in my most careful cursive.
Heavenly--
I grieve for the love I left out to dry and wither
like these flowers have in the summer heat that does
not compare to the passion I still feel for you.
These flowers will die, but my love for you never
will. Please give me a chance to mend the damage I so
regretfully have done.
All my love,
TLT
I read the words over again and again until some of the syllables no longer had meaning. Printing my cell phone number on the bottom of the page, I decided to leave fate in Heaven's hands. She would give me the chance to repair the bridges between us... or she would toss away this insignificant piece of paper and shed tears for the love she believed never existed inside my ever-aching heart.
Standing from the supple leather chair, I left the note laying in plain view in the center of the desk, with the bouquet of wildflowers limply beside it. It was up to Heaven now, to forgive me... or forget me.
I closed the door behind me.
In vain I tried to decide what sort of note to write Heaven. A little taste of the apology I had to make or no mention of my purpose for returning to Winnerrow at all? Perhaps I could leave my phone number and request that she call me, or maybe more directly ask her to meet me. Ah, no one sentence was perfect, not when there was so much I needed to say and so little opportunity to say it at this very moment. And so many repercussions a small message may have - a tone too casual might convince her further that I didn't care for her, and saying too much too soon was dangerous as well. Never before had I had so much trouble composing a simple letter!
All right. Just a small something to let her know I'd been here and that I wanted very much to speak with her. No blank paper lay atop the desk so my hand fell to the brass handle of a drawer that slid smoothly open when I tugged it. Several small notepads lay in the well-organized drawer, and from the array I selected a plain white square to write upon. Just before pushing the drawer shut, a glint of something silver caught my eye and forced me to take a second look at the office supplies.
An exacto knife lay inconspicuously between a stapler and a wooden ruler. As if my hand were being controlled by some outside force, my fingers plucked the knife from it's place and let it fall softly into my palm. The plastic casing was cool and smooth against my skin and the gleaming metal of the blade was spotlessly clean and dangerously sharp. An image flashed in my mind of slicing my own tender flesh with a blade so much like this one. Razor sharp and thin enough to create a clean incision from whence reddish-black blood poured.
So hopeless I'd felt then, at that time and in that place. And even now I could still understand the thought process I'd had - I was a curse to my family, a desperate floater in a world that would never be mine, and wouldn't it be so much easier just to end it all before it grew worse and worse? I still remembered the pain I'd felt, not of the cool metal carving into my skin but the ache that constricted my heart and clouded my mind until I could see nothing around me but the cold, dark wasteland of eternity. And, sometimes, though I tried to keep such thoughts far at bay, I still wondered if the world would be better without me, after all. Perhaps the dream I'd had of everyone I loved being miserable in my absence was simply the result of the feverish grip death had on me and held absolutely no truth. Maybe there was still time to prevent the inevitable pain my existence would bring to those around me, and to myself...
No, Troy. Don't entertain that idea for a moment longer. You've come so far from that horrible moment of your life. Don't return now, not when you must still do everything possible to erase the mistakes you made with Heaven, and let her know, once and for all, that you love her more than life itself.
Feeling frightened of the darkness that had so quickly and easily enveloped me, I dropped the exacto knife back into the drawer, nudged it shut, and flicked my eyes to the wall clock. How had so much time already passed? The sky beyond the window was a deep cerulean now and though I searched for sound outside I heard no more voices or car engines.
I panicked at the thought of a factory worker or Casteel family member finding me here, trespassing in Heaven's office. Quickly I focused my attention on the paper that lay in anticipation of my pen. Sighing nervously and setting the ballpoint down, I began to write in my most careful cursive.
Heavenly--
I grieve for the love I left out to dry and wither
like these flowers have in the summer heat that does
not compare to the passion I still feel for you.
These flowers will die, but my love for you never
will. Please give me a chance to mend the damage I so
regretfully have done.
All my love,
TLT
I read the words over again and again until some of the syllables no longer had meaning. Printing my cell phone number on the bottom of the page, I decided to leave fate in Heaven's hands. She would give me the chance to repair the bridges between us... or she would toss away this insignificant piece of paper and shed tears for the love she believed never existed inside my ever-aching heart.
Standing from the supple leather chair, I left the note laying in plain view in the center of the desk, with the bouquet of wildflowers limply beside it. It was up to Heaven now, to forgive me... or forget me.
I closed the door behind me.