"So why d'ya fill my sorrow
With the words you've borrowed
From the only place that you've known
Why d'ya sing hallelujah
If it means nothin' to ya
Why d'ya sing with me at all?"
Colours faded to shades of black and gray. The world became only shadows of what it used to be. Bitterness filled her heart as the crystalline tears fell from her eyes unto flushed cheeks. The streams cut a river through the rouge, leaving in their wake sorrow and pain. Her lips, once fire engine red, were cracked from the chilled night air. Quickly she felt the pavement below her catch her body as her hand gripped the rail at her entryway.
Susan Pevensie stayed on the wet stoop long after the messenger had left. Ignoring her concerned neighbors, she clutched the telegram to her chest, wrinkling the pristine paper. Looking at her hands, she noticed the tips were black from the ink that had run from her tears.
The chiming of the clock in the hall brought Susan back from her grief. Surmounting what strength she had left, she walked to her sofa before collapsing upon it. Still stunned from the news she had just received, the emotions began to well up inside of her.
They were gone. Each person she had ever loved was gone, and would never be coming back to her.
"No, no they can't be. They wouldn't leave me…they wouldn't leave me alone in the world. Any minute Mum will call, and tomorrow I'll receive a letter from Lucy. Sunday morning I'll walk into the house for breakfast and find Edmund and Father reading the morning's news," she spoke aloud to herself, deciding that by giving her thoughts a voice they must be true.
Somewhere inside she knew it would not be so. Her body wretched as more sobs tore through her at the memories of all those other days she had taken for granted. All the times she could have stayed home rather than going out, and now she would never have the opportunity to make up for them.
Lifting her head from the pillowed arm, she was met with the black and white faces of her beloved family. The photo was taken the summer before Peter left for college. They had a future when it had been taken, and now only she did. Running her finger across each joyful face, she stopped at Peter's.
Slowly the despair changed into anger and rage. Gripping the frame tightly, in less than a second, Susan had hurled the object against the opposite wall. The room became silent all too soon after the echo of breaking glass had ceased. Breathing heavily she attempted to walk to the mess she had created, only to fall onto her knees in the middle of her tiny parlour.
The blood boiled in her veins at the injustice of it all. Blinded by the white fury in her heart, she let out a yell banging her fists against the floor. She knew whom to blame, she knew whose fault it was that her family no longer was with her, and now she was left loveless and an orphan.
Vile words to Him sprang from her lips.
"It's your fault! You took them away! You left me here to suffer, just as you made me suffer when you said I could never return!"
The words flew from her in quick gasps in between the sobs.
"Why did you take all of them? Lucy was so young… Edmund had changed… and Peter… oh Peter…"
Susan began to fall into the pieces of who she was. The anger had shattered her heart, and now there was no one to rebuild it. Peter would no longer be there to soothe away her tears with his kisses, and all she would have is the memories of a forgotten time. Every kiss, every touch, every look now haunted her mind with the knowledge that there would never be anymore.
Her mind waged a war against who she was angry at the most. It was between Him leaving her behind again, and Peter for letting her fall into him so much that she could not remember who she was without him.
"If Peter really loved me, he wouldn't have left me here alone."
The memory of their last conversation was too fresh in her mind. They had argued over the rings Professor Kirke had told them about. Peter was angry that Susan would not join them on the search for the enchanted objects. Susan was cross because Peter wanted more than she had to give. He now had everything he wanted, and she was left with nothing except jaded memories, and a doubting love.
"Why would you let us have something so beautiful only to take it away again when it was finally regained?" she said quietly to the shadows.
Borrowed words filled the proceeding days. What few persons remained in her life filled her sorrows with their phrases of condolences and sympathies. Nodding her head, she let them pass by her. Her tears no longer flowed for she ran out long before the hymns and sermons began.
The notion of a loving God became a joke to her. Everywhere she looked there was more suffering, which only added to her own. She could not help but question why a God whose purpose was to love and protect would forget so many.
Approaching the memorial wall to all those that perished in the crash, she let her hand reach out for the familiar names. The coldness of the embossed letters did not rival that of her heart.
"Whom did you lose, darling?" a matronly woman once asked her.
"Everyone," she responded simply.
Days carried on and if it were not for the red crosses on the calendar, she would have forgotten that it was Tuesday. Spread about her on the floor were photographs from a crumpled box she had found under Peter's bed in their childhood home. Studying each image, she began a matrix putting together a sequence of chronological events. It was easier to be orderly than to give in to her breaking heart.
Tears, the first of many, began when she picked up a picture of Mother, Father, Peter, and herself before Edmund and Lucy were born. Mother had her hand upon two-year-old Peter's shoulder, making him stand straight. Being held by Father, Susan had a bright smile on her chubby face as Peter made funny faces at her from their Mother's side. He always knew how to make her smile.
Wiping her eyes, she moved on to the next photograph in the many she had left to sort. Lucy, Edmund, and Susan were all visible; therefore Susan determined that Peter must have taken the picture. She remembered this day. It was before nylons, lipsticks, and boys. This was when she still believed. On a blanket by the seashore rested three children. Lucy was curled into Susan's side, with Edmund on the other holding on to his elder sister's hand. Even in their sleep they seemed to know that Susan was slowly drifting away from them, away from Narnia.
Placing the photograph in a row with others, she pressed on though the pain ripped her heart into more pieces. This one was of her only. If she recognized the building right, and the two girls on either side of her, this picture was taken when she was at choir practice, right when she stopped believing. That same day, Peter had asked her why she sang hymns when the words meant nothing to her. Being cross with him she replied that it was better than nothing at all.
Those words meant more than just chorals and melodies. She spoke of how Peter and herself had been dancing around each other since the game of hide and seek. It went back to an argument they had when she was about to go out with another boy. He asked her in a furious tone why she let herself be a toy to those other boys. Her answer was the same, that it was better than having nothing at all with him.
Gripping the photograph, she ripped it in two. That Susan had died in the train wreck with everything else. This was her burial and her rebirth.
Her finger gently traced the border of the last photograph. Sitting under their picnic spot at Oxford, Peter had Susan wrapped in his arms, and she was kissing his cheek. They had asked a fellow who was walking by to take a picture of them, and he obliged willingly. The elder man was accompanied by his wife who gushed about how darling a couple Peter and Susan were as she and her husband returned on their walk. Creases marked the smooth glossy surface. This photograph had been folded over and over again as if it had been in a hiding spot, or a back pocket.
Smoothing out the surface as best as she could, Susan began to walk up the stairs of her childhood home. Her eyes kept to the picture, however her feet knew where she had to go. Reaching out her hand, she turned the doorknob and entered darkness. Closing the door, she curled up on the floor, the photograph still in her hands. In the darkness of the small hallway closet, she let herself sob in defeat. She was back where her story began. It was only fitting that this is where it would end.
Yet, their story had not begun here. Slowly bright violets and royal blues began to fill her gray world. Crimsons and golds that had been missing since the news was given to her returned. The colours were brighter than any shade this world possesses. For there in the hallway closet, Susan remembered it all.
The feel of the fur coat against her skin as they walked from the wardrobe to the Beaver's seemed as real now as it did then. Her fingers tingled exactly like they would before she would shoot an arrow. Her head felt heavier as if a crown rested upon it again. Kicking off her shoes, she swore that there was lush grass beneath her feet. Soft Narnian grass, and yet it was even softer than what she could remember. A fire burned upon her lips, reminding her of all the kisses High King Peter and Queen Susan would share when either returned from a journey.
"I was once a queen," she spoke softly to the darkness. "Once a king or queen of Narnia, always a king or queen of Narnia," she repeated in a hopeful tone.
Warmth filled her heart, and the tears dried upon her cheeks. Reaching out her hand, she met soft golden fur that she had longed to touch since that first time. The wall of pain and despair crumbled as a breath sweeter than any flower and warmer than the most beautiful spring day surrounded her.
"I believe…" she whispered.
Shutting her eyes tightly she saw His face, and she could have sworn he was smiling. She saw Edmund and Lucy running to her. Taking her hands in their own, they pulled her over a knoll. Edmund looked as if all woes were taken from him, and Lucy had never looked more beautiful. Abruptly stopping, Susan saw Peter walking towards them. She tried to speak, but she had no voice. His hand reached out and touched her cheek. Finally finding the words, she asked Peter a simple question.
"Why'd you sing with me at all?"
"Because you were delicate."