Her Last Day

I loved her.

I still do. With everything I've got. Ever since that cloudy day four years ago when we met in the park. Ever since I realized she was the one I was looking for my whole life and after she shared her heart and her entire life with me. Ever since I moved into her place a week after we accidentally jogged into each other.

And look at me now under this eerie rain... Standing on her grave. Alone and wet. I don't know what to do. She would be alive if it wasn't for me.

It was all my fault.

That day I was returning from my afternoon walk and saw Garry, the mailman, from across the street just leaving our building. I hurried back. When I entered our apartment she already opened the envelope and the bottle of red wine. With the glass half empty she saw me, gave me tired smile and pointed the letter on the floor.

"It's another rejection.. Oh, Husk.. I am not sure I can handle them anymore". She made one of those heavy sighs she started with in recent months and looked into the glass. "Ever since I got fired from the Tribune all my handwritings and all the scripts were rejected... All of them... By everyone." She looked exhausted and beyond sadness when she finally raised her head and stared at me. "You have beautiful eyes. You know that, don't you?"

It was not the first time she was acting like this. I always tried to comfort her. To give her hope. But today, I didn't do much. I looked at her gently and then the glass. She gave me little surrender smile, wiped the tears and went to the kitchen. With the bottle in one hand and the glass in another. "I need to prepare something. Bruce is coming to dinner." She turned and gave me that threatening look when I was about to react harshly, like I always did in situations like that. "And please behave this time. You know that he's my former supervisor at the Tribune. I need this... Maybe he is my only chance. I spent all the bright ideas... I am not sending any more letters. Not anymore."

I knew all too well that Bruce was not only her former supervisor. He was the one who fired her. He was also her ex. I hated him. There was something in him I never manage to comprehend. His eyes, his behaviour, his moves, his vague rhetorics. His fragrance. There was nothing compelling about him. He was just one of those bullies in suits. A bad man. I almost exploded at him last time. I couldn't risk another scene today so I went for a dinner downtown. I wanted to slam the door on my way out. Hard. I couldn't do it.

I couldn't eat much as well. I lost all my appetite and took a long walk before I got back. I knew he already left and I just wanted to avoid her tonight and leave explanations for next morning but at the door I realized something bad happened even before I came in. In the dining room were broken glasses, spilled wine, shattered vase and her bloody face behind her hands. She was sitting in the corner and sobbed silently. I couldn't breath. He hit her. Bad. I should've known this would happen. I was so stupid. The rage started to boil in my veins. Why did I leave in the first place? I had to be here to protect her. Maybe it's not too late. I turned toward the door and made a step.

"Stop." She cried. "Husk, no. Don't go. He's not worth it. Please..."

I went anyway.

I chased him for three blocks in all directions before I gave up. He probably took a cab or came with a car, otherwise he couldn't outrun me. Not after what I have just seen. The running calmed me down enough so I turned back and hurried home. I wanted to be there for her. I hoped that would be enough.

But she wasn't there. She didn't take anything with her. Not the jacket, nor the phone. Not even the shoes. The door was wide open and I saw the blood stains on the hallway walls here and there. She left enough trace to follow her path. But I didn't need anything to know where she went. The place where I found her last time. I hurried like hell. I needed to find her on time. Before it could be too late. Before...

I ran faster.

When I passed second building to the south and reached dark alley in the back, I found her sitting against the wall. She was already dead. I was not fast enough. Syringe and the spoon were fallen next to her and the rubber band tangled in her palm. She was looking at me with her open eyes for the last time. I froze. I didn't know what to do. I just sat next to her.

It was all my fault.

I loved her. All the way and all too much.

I still do.

So, here I am, standing on her grave on this eerie day. The rain had stopped. I still don't know what to do. I failed her. I should have been... Better. But I wasn't.

The life today was like this dark rain. It came to an end. So I just lay down on the grave, put my head on my paws and closed my eyes.


© Milan's Public Journal - Copyright disclaimer, donation fund and Google AdSense
Milan's Public Journal is a free source of information within all the themes and threads it covers. I am encouraging you to use all the posts and stories you like or find useful free of charge and however and wherever you like, either within personal or commercial use. If you want to support the blog, please click on some of those Google ads throughout the content, if they suit your surfing habits of course. If you like to make a donation instead, PayPal page below is the right place to do. If you do so, please do not hesitate to send me a short email, as I would love to stay in touch with you and send you small thankyou note within MPJ's donation page.

© Milan's Public Journal - Social Connections