Author's Notes: Another chapter. It's storming here and I have Bother by Corey Taylor on repeat right now. So that's my mood. I hope you enjoy. And I did fix the last chapter, and I will explain everything in greater detail in the next chapters... And I sorta had this other idea based on the song Whiskey Lullaby.. But yeah.. If anyone's heard that song.... It would make a very depressing fic... So just leave me a review (please) or if you want to chat, I'm always happy to... my AOL SN is FortunesFool97 and my MSN thing is my email address: ellaspyrkayahoo.com
The world blurs together around him. Day and night have ceased to exist, the only light he's been able to see is the single candle left burning in memory of a soul gone too far, too fast. The dark, brooding clouds have covered up the sky, making the sun nothing but a dull memory. The violent wind tugs at everything rooted and stable, yet it gets no where, and with frustration it blows harder. The rain beats down against the roof, the windows, the doors, the steps, the world. Pounding everything down into the earth, as if all the misery could disappear if it could make everything part of the dirt. The destruction of the rain mirrors the destruction of her heart. She's simply a shadow of the person she was. Her sobs ring through the night, interlaced with coughs and cries. Her eyes are permanently bloodshot, her hands shaking, her lungs gasping for air. She lays there on the bed, curled up in a tight ball, pushing the world away from her. She's wrapped up in her own grief, her own pain. Three days since the inevitable happened, the disease took her away from her mother. Her mother wants to be taken away. He hesitates to leave her alone. The power of her agony can render her emotionless.She stares off toward a blank white wall, starring toward it as if it held all the answers to the questions in her mind. The look on her face can't be described. The emotional pain has turned physical, aging her, destroying her. She looks like a living corpse, held to life with machines and ventilator, a person standing at her side and telling her when to inhale and exhale. She might forget what life is all about. She doesn't want to be breathing, the look she gave him told him that much. A pleading glance to help her die, her frail body can't take any more of it. She is dead, she died along with her daughter. Nothing would matter any more to her, everything that once held her to the earth bounds just dissipated. It stopped breathing, gave up the will to fight the losing battle.
He walked away from her; her anguish radiates throughout the house. The coldness seems to seep from her, frozen and emotionless. The house has become a mausoleum; the only sound is that of the deafening sound of silence and tears. She won't get through this, the one person she finally found trust in. There will be no undoing the damage this time. She had always held these secrets behind her, he knew she wouldn't let herself believe in love. The world was nothing bu a place of torment, after her always, wanting to torture her. Yet she finally found someone she could love, and the world found a way to snatch that away from her.
He leaned against the cold wall, sinking downward onto the wooden floor. His muscles ached and his head pounded. The atmosphere permanently held an ambience of death. The cooing words of her friend echo through the rooms, a low and gentle whisper. It seems to swim through the room until it is snatched by the blackness that is ever present. The house will see no happiness, comfort, or love. It will be embedded by decay, destruction, and hatred.
He is a zombie; sleep has slowly faded from his memory. He travels from room to room, wanting to be helpful, but decided useless. The rain has changed to a light mist, and he walks toward the door. There is no good he can do. She has already decided her own fate. The metal hinges of the door scream in protest as he opens it, gently shutting it behind him. The house of despondency is too much for him to bear. His shoeless feet are greeted by the cold, rain-drenched water. He wanders slowly, farther and farther, watching the world transform into one of grey. One tone, one life, one loss. Everything was connected: death inevitable. The rainwater clings to his shirt, not yet seeping through. He watches the droplets gather on his skin before becoming overburdened and slowly trailing their way toward the ground. The birds chirp a silent melody through the grounds. The animals hide in their holes for protection, the people likewise in their homes.
He saw a bright white dot amidst the tangle of green and gold. Slowly he made his way toward it, his feet taking the abuses of dry twigs and grasses. A simple flower, pushing forth from all the weeds. One flower wanting to make a difference, forcing its way out, then defeated by the majority. Its broken stalk left it tangled underneath the brush. He slowly leaned down, pushing the grass and weeds away, pulling the fighting bud away from all evils. He pulled it out, standing back up, holding it against his hand. It was the first beautiful flower he had seen. A gift from the heavens, a sign of hope. He didn't know. He wandered farther, he knew there was a rivulet made alive by the rains. He hoped to find it, and in turn, find life. His steps become wider and harder, yet he wasn't afraid of getting lost. The quieter life becomes, the more can be heard. The beauty of silence and peace.
The trickling sound drew his attention, and behind a tall blade of a tree, he saw it. The water streamed down against the flat land, moving in no direction particular but down. It splashed along the edges, pushing the dry earth along. He watched the creatures scurry to the water, long deprived of the resource. He knelt down, placing the white flower on the surface. It was whisked away by the movement, flowing toward the unknown. A white rose among the blackest thorns. He got up heading back toward the house.