Untitled (part 3)

The grogginess blurring his vision. As he awoke once more from a drunken, induced sleep. He rubbed his eyes making his vision clearer. He stood up slightly groggy and stared at the remains of the night before. The lone bottle of bourbon stood on the floor next to the bed with the single drop still sitting in it. He left it there and headed for the door wanting to get away from the bottle, wanting to get away from the loneliness of the night before, even though that same loneliness was still the exact thing he wanted. Or at least that’s what he thought. He left the room if possible feeling worse then he had the night before when he had entered it. As the day before he began to walk the streets, but this time he had a destination. Although every fiber of his being was screaming at him not to do it, his heart crying out and his soul trying to escape his body, he knew he had to return to his home. He was unsure why he had to do this, but the demon that taunted him, teased him, haunted his every waking and every sleeping moment, he had to face it. He had to enter the room in which he had vowed he would never step foot in again. He had to enter their… his bedroom again.1

Once again he was walking aimlessly; in the back of his mind knowing that his home was would end up being his final destination no matter how much he tried to fight it. He looked around trying to make sense of his location as he rounded a corner. Then it hit him. That bench outside the café, the dark blue wooden bench, covered in graffiti, with bits of paint either chipped off or slowly peeling itself off. The café with its long counter bench, sleek and shiny as it always was, the circular rotating chairs that lined the counter, and the booths, the booths that had their long black shiny tables, and the bright red, plush vinyl seats that were on either side of the tables. The café, the booth, they had eaten at, the bench they had sat on, the bench she had died at. The memory flooding back him. The one memory he had managed to suppress came crashing back. Bringing him to his knees.2

They had entered the café early in the evening. They could have chosen any restaurant or café in the city, but they had chosen this one for the simple fact that this café had been the place that they had meet exactly a year ago. They sat in the same booth, second from the end, and sat in the same spots. He in the middle of the seat on the left of the table, her with one shoulder resting against the window on the right of the table. He looked at her as they waited for a waitress to come to them and ask for their order. As he stared at her, at her eyes, he once again became lost in them. Her hazel eyes seemingly enveloping him as he looked at her. The deep black pupils of her eyes only complimenting the dark hazel of her iris’s making them stand out even more. It had always been her eyes for him. It was the first thing that had caught his attention. And now a year later it still managed to take his breath away. Her hair was up in a ponytail with a bit remaining at the front as a fringe, flicked to one side and looped around her ear. The light blue eye shadow, covering her eye lids, as the thin line of eye shadow outlined the bottom of her eye, and the mascara enlarging her eyelashes, making them seem truly magical. Her flawless skin not needing the aid of foundation to make her skin glow. Her lush full lips were complimented by the cherry colored lipstick that she had brought the day before. The overall effect of it all made him almost lose himself altogether in simply looking at her. She turned her gaze to away from the window and looked at him. She giggled lightly as she caught him staring at her and as he quickly tried looking away. With a sheepish look on his face he had looked back at her, as the waitress had come to them. The waitress had asked them if they were ready to order. He had ordered himself a cheeseburger with a side of fries and she had ordered a cheeseburger as well with a salad side. The waitress had taken their orders and left them.3

He continued to look at her as they now waited for their meals. They talked about their day, and gradually came round to the topic of what the day meant. At the mentioning of this, her smile seemed to radiate, seeming to create an aura of light around her. At seeing this, his heart lightened, and it felt that he had lost all feeling of his limbs. He knew that he found his one true love and he was never going to let her go. As she smiled and reminisced in memories that they had shared together over the past year, he moved his hand into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. Holding inside, his gift to her. As she continued to talk he placed his other hand on hers and waited for her to finish her sentence. He must have had a look on his face for once he held her hand she stopped talking and looked at him. He moved his other hand into hers. Without saying a word placed the small velvet box into them and let go. With slightly shaking hands she moved her hand closer and placed it on the lid. Looking at him, she opened it and let out a slight gasp of shock. She moved her hand and pulled out a silver chain on which was a deep purple, amethyst heart, with a diamond directly in the middle. Tears of joy came eyes, as she stared speechlessly back at him. He stood up and moved next to her, taking it from her hands and placing it around her neck. As he sat down he looked at her again and thought to himself that although the gift was great and it looked beautiful around her, it did nothing to take away the beauty that she was to him. Still utterly bewildered and speechless, she grabbed his hand, leaned over the table and softly, passionately kissed him. After that kiss his memory became a blur as he got hung up over that kiss and the beauty she had become in his eyes. They had eaten their meal, had dessert and left. Asking for a taxi to be called as they went to wait on the bench outside.4

They stepped outside, she had shivered slightly and instinctively he gave her his jacket to warm her up. She took it gratefully and as they sat down she cuddled into him waiting for the taxi. She looked up at him as her hand unconsciously played with the gift that he had given her. He looked at her and she mouthed the words “I love you,” and kissed him again. From there it seemed everything in his life had ended. As they had ended their embrace, a man stood before them. He stood before them his short brown hair all matted, the black hoody he was wearing covered in stains and ripped in places here and there, his jeans faded and ragged, but the object that had caught both of their gaze was the long, shiny, metallic knife that he held in his hand. They sat there petrified to the spot at the fear of what was going to come next. He stood there and demanded for their jewelry and money. The next happened so quickly and yet it seemed to take a lifetime. He lunged forward, his free hand in front of the hand with the knife. His free hand reaching for the necklace that had newly found its home around his loves neck. Instinctively he moved to push her out of the way. Being in front of the man instead of his love he moved to try and disarm the man. He threw a punch, connecting with the man’s face, making him take a step back. Undeterred he moved back in swinging the knife in a wide arc. He heard the scream and looked to see his love raise her arms, forearms facing the man, trying to defend herself, and slowly almost as if time had been slowed down, seen the knife enter deeply into both wrist, and the blood beginning to flow freely. Quickly the man grabbed the necklace of his now defenseless love and ran. Leaving him sitting next to his dying love, not knowing what to say or do.5

The tears burning in his eyes he found himself standing in front of the bench where it had all happened. As fast as he could he turned and ran. He had to get out of there. He couldn’t face it. He couldn’t stand facing the memories, that memory… not yet. It was just too painful. Why had he allowed himself to come this way, why had he not paid attention to where he was going, why had he allowed that memory to surface. He ran gasping for breath, not stopping. Just trying to put as much distance between him and that spot, that scene as he possibly could. He continued to run with wild abandon not stopping for anything. Hitting things, running into people, not stopping for busy streets, he cared about none of this, his only concern being getting away. And for some reason the only place that he was going to be able to get away from it all was going to be his home, the one place he had been trying to avoid, for some reason that was going to be his solace, and that was where he was heading.6

Finally he made it back to his apartment building. He ran to the stairs, but by the time he had reached them he could run no further. Bent over double, trying to breathe, tears still stinging his eyes, he stood for a couple minutes, trying to make sense of all that had just happened. Unable to, he placed one hand on the railing, and slowly made his way up the stairs, until he reached his floor and started heading for his door. Refusing to look at anything else. He placed the key in the lock and turned it. Then with his hand on the door handle he stopped himself just before he was going to turn it. Why was he here? Did he really want to enter his home? Did he really wish to enter that bedroom? Closing his eyes, he took deep breath, turned the handle and entered his home.7