Even though my mind is fading I can still taste her lip-gloss. It’s a little thing, I know; one of the many things about Anya that always sticks in my mind. The way she twirls her hair when she’s nervous, or how that hair smalls falling around my face when she’s above me in bed. All these are the things I know are gone forever, but I just can’t forget.
I pull the trigger, releasing her - Putting an end to the jerks and twitches of her body.
Nothing could have ever prepared me for this. We’ve been together since our second year of college. Fourteen years over, quite literally with a bang, not a whimper.
Outside the steel double doors I can hear them scraping and pushing, trying to get in. The painful groans from their vacant mindless bodies are the worst. I couldn’t let her become like that; let her suffer that way. I had to do it.
My vision is growing dimmer and the dull rush in my ears is almost as bad as the silence when the band on stage stops playing, before the crowd has time to roar. I don’t know how long I have left until I’m like them, but I have to do something to make her death – our death – worthwhile.
This building was an auction house a few decades ago. It’s been sitting, mostly vacant, for more time than I even knew Anya. We’d even talked about buying it once, to turn into an independent community theatre. I hate to think about destroying it now, but maybe I can take enough of them with me that Billy and the kids across the street at the dealership can get out of here safely.
(Thoughts, opinions, and feedback welcome)
No comments:
Post a Comment