The Healing

I sit on the floor, weak and simple before him, with the gaping wound in my torso. I watch him lift one bloody hand after another, pounding on the faintly beating heart that he tore out from my chest. He has the look of a deranged lover as his fists come down on the dying muscle. And when my heart is finally purple and shriveled and bloodless, he cleans his hands with my tears, takes her hand and they both walk away. I watch them go. They don’t turn back. Why would they? They left nothing behind. There is nothing for them to see. Nothing to regret. Nothing to apologize for.

I continue to watch their retreating backs, the echoes of their laughter ringing mercilessly in my ears. At first, I remain like this, sitting half dead with my grotesque organ lying on the floor in front of me. The pain I feel is unbearable, unimaginable. I cannot get up, will not get up.

“Really?” Veeka asks me. I slowly look up and see Veeka, my mind’s manifestation of an alter ego, the rational side of me who thinks with the head, not the heart. I know who she is, though I have never met her before. She has always been there, lurking in the corners of my mind, cautioning, warning. I pushed her away when she warned me about my vulnerability, shut her out when she told me to guard my heart around sweet talkers like him. But now she stands before me, no longer a little voice, but a visual presence that can not be ignored. She has seen enough.

“You will sit here and watch them go, bore your eyes into the back of their skulls until they have gone too far and disappear from your sight?”
I continue to look at her but I do not reply.
“Are you waiting for him to let go of her hand and come back for you?” she asks.
I turn away from the truth I see in her face. I focus instead on my bruised heart. Veeka kneels beside my limp bloody body and whispers, “He won’t”.

A new wave of excruciating pain engulfs my entire frame. My heart turns a deeper hue, almost black. My vision becomes a blur. The tears and the pain are beginning to blind me. I hear the bloodcurdling scream before I realize that it escaped from my own throat. The scream drains the last shred of strength left in me. I am left a pitiful sack of bones and skin. Veeka remains quiet and allows me a moment to let out my sorrow, to grief. She watches me closely as my face twists with anguish. And then, after an eternity of pain, she says softly, “Aren’t you tired of this? Aren’t you tired of playing the victim?”

I say nothing to Veeka. My conscience is so tired of having been muffled all this while, she makes no effort to sugarcoat her distaste for my actions. But all I did, I did because I was in love.
“You say were in love. I say you were spineless, foolish, weak, spoony! Allowing him to trample all over your heart like that, in the name of an affection that he did not return. Look at it!” she vented, gesturing towards the large prune-like object that lay barely five feet from were I sat. “Well, no more. There is no one here to take your hand, or carry you, or heal you. Look at me,” I turn to her slowly, weakly, “Get up.”

Then, she’s gone. Once again, I’m alone. Veeka has retreated into the depths of my mind, and there she will remain, cautioning softly like before. But I know now that she will not stay quiet if I falter again. I look around me. I see nothing but my heart on the floor. I ignore all the pain I feel as I get up and walk slowly towards it. I pick it up and it feels cold and hard in my hand. I put it back into my chest and wait. Slowly, it begins to pulsate. The blood it pumps through my body is cold and dry but at least it’s alive. It continues to thump weakly. I fall back to the floor. I get on my hands and knees and I crawl.

I am still crawling. Sometimes, I fall down from weakness and pain. My wound is still open. My purple heart still pumps black stale blood. But one day, I will heal. The sore in my chest will close and my heart will be huge and red and pulsate rhythmically with the movement of fresh blood.

The love I have lost, the pain I feel and even Veeka’s harsh words have not deterred me from wanting to feel the bond of companionship and love once again. One day, I will walk. And one day, someone will walk with me hand in hand and he will never let go.

A Dark Man

He sat watching the door. In the queit. In the dark. The only sound he could hear was the ticking of a clock on the wall, reminding him of the slow and steady passage of time. He must have been sitting there for hours, but it didn't matter. He was in no rush. He would wait. Patience is something he needed to survive in his work, among other things. You needed skill, of course - you had to know what you were doing. You needed tact. And it's always best to work at night. It's the best time to be invisible, to be quiet. Yes, in this business, the darkness was your friend. Your only friend. Not many people can warm up to the idea of having a killer for a buddy. He knew that. But sometimes, it got so lonely, and he wished for human contact. He wished for someone he could share his life and his secrets with. Someone he could trust. That's why he was so happy when he met Sylvia. She had seen his ugly truth, the side of him that he hid from the rest of the world and she hadn't turned away. She accepted him. She loved him. Or that's what he had thought before she started sneeking around the house. Before he saw her talking to the cop. Before she betrayed him. Lights from her car headlights sifted in through the windows. She's home. He sighed. He didn't want this. But he'd do what had to be done. He remained still when she came in. She walked passed the chair where he sat and dropped her car keys and her purse beside a porcelain vase on the table. "Hey", he said. She squealed and jumped back. She ran to turn the light on and faced him. "Robert! God, you scared the crap out of me! What are you doing here?" "Waiting for my girlfriend, who normally gets off work at 7. Imagine my suprise when I got here and you weren't here". "Oh", she replied "So...where were you?" he asked calmly. "At Phil's bar", she said, looking aimlessly through her purse, obviously avoiding eye contact. He looked at the ticking clock. It was 3 A.M. "Phil's closes at midnight." he said watching her closely. She paused. "Where did you go after that?" "Umm, I went to Ally's place. Wow, I didn't know it was that late. Well, you know what happens when we girls get together", she made a weak attempt at a laugh. "See, I knew you would say that", he chuckled, "But you couldn't have been with Ally." "Of course, I was", she scoffed, "where else would I be? You could call her and ask". "I could." He stared at her. She stared back. He smiled. She was trying so hard to act normal, not to reveal how scared she was. She started to walk towards the kitchen. "But I don't need to. You couldn't have been with Ally because she was with me", he said. She stopped and turned slowly. Her chest rose and fell rapidly with quick heavy breaths. He could see her pondering in her head. She was scared to ask, scared of what the answer would be. She swallowed. "And where is she now?" she whispered, unable to stop herself from asking the question. From hoping. "She's dead", he replied simply. Sylvia gasped and fell to the ground, a tear sliding down her cheek, "Oh my God, Robert!" she sobbed, "you killed her?" "No", he shook his head at her, "no no no no, you killed her. Not me. You shouldn't go blabbing to innocent people about things that aren't their business. You got her involved, you made her a liability, you killed her." "She didn't do anything!" she screamed through her tears. "You shouldn't be meeting with cops in the middle of the night. You shouldn't have told her what I do. Then, she'd still be alive", Robert replied, still calm. "You're a monster!" she yelled. He said nothing at first. He just continued to smile at her. It's true, he was a monster. And monsters couldn't have friends or family or girlfriends. He knew that now. Trust was something he couldn't afford to give. Love was something he couldn't afford to feel. He wouldn't make that mistake again. "Where you really going to help the police put me away?" She said nothing. He stood up. "You know I can't let that happen" He began to approach her. She reacted immediately. She tried to run to the door but he was in her way now. She picked up the porcelain vase and flung it at him. He ducked and it wheezed passed his ear. He sighed. "Sylvia sweetie, don't make this harder than it has to be. Just come here so I can kill you."