Emily sat with her back against a gravestone, looking out over the cliff and the sea to the darkening horizon. Something inside of her told her that none of it was right… that she was alone and there was no hope left.
The crystal blue waves crashed loudly among the rocks on the shore and there was no hope left.
She held up the withered rose to her face and lightly brushed it against her cheek; she had forgotten she was even holding it. A slight smirk etched itself onto her face out of the corners of her mouth at her forgetfulness. The sun was disappearing over the horizon… all good things must come to an end. Silently, somewhere deep inside of her she knew why it all had to be the way it was – she knew why people had to die and yet…
Suddenly, a thorn pricked her cheek and she dropped the rose. It hit the ground in silence. Am I unlovable? Why do I love yet am never loved back? A tear met the blood on her cheek – it stung but she paid it no attention. The sun was further down now. She could tell because the shadows were closing in, slowly but surely; they always caught up with her. Why did he have to leave me like this?
There was the rose. Fallen, withered. Maybe that was the way it was meant to be. The shadows grew more defined as the sun shined its last rays over the horizon before masking its golden gaze.
Why was she here? Her friends were all gone, away at parties, vacations, family gatherings – away where they loved and were loved. Not here. Not like her. No, she was there in that graveyard at the edge of the sea, all the way by the edge of the cliff where her grandfather’s stone was the only thing to keep her company. It wasn’t a sad sight to her… not anymore. For some reason, she found that this was the perfect place to collect her thoughts and feel safe… safe among the dead – those who can do her no harm. After all, if it hadn’t been for her grandfather she would not have survived her younger years.
He taught her so much about life. When her Mom could no longer afford to live in their apartment, her Grandpa had taken them in and ensured their survival. Even after her mother passed away, her Grandpa took it upon himself to take care of her – to love her and guide her and give her the best environment to live in. He wanted what was best for her… he never wanted her to feel unloved or unwanted.
And yet, all good things must come to an end.
It was late one summery June day when he had a heart attack. By the time the ambulance got to them, he was already dead. She knew it too, despite being so young – as if some primal sense of life and death had kicked in to let her know exactly what was happening. She sat with his body for forty-five minutes before they finally arrived at the scene. When it came time to decide where she would go, she didn’t want to be anywhere else and they had to pry her hand from her Grandpa’s.
Ten foster homes later and she was here… sitting at his gravestone, wondering why the world was the way it was and fighting back thoughts of ending it all. For once in her life, she wanted to control something – to not be at the mercy of anyone else or any system that threw her around like some chew toy. It wasn’t boys… she had decided recently to not let boys or girls bother her anymore, even though she liked them both. No, she had tried letting people get close before but they all just ended up hurting her or disappointing her or just deciding it was their time to leave: no real reason, no clues.
She was dying inside. Hadn’t she always been dying inside? No, no, she thought, I was strong once. I had ideals and I was strong.
No one was there to see her tears. Later, she wouldn’t even know if they had been real. A crow chortled from a branch above her, briefly interrupting her thoughts. A beckoning to the shadows which she found herself engulfed in shortly thereafter. All that was left for company in the vast darkness were the waves and the lone crow who peered at her from the branch above. What else was it trying to tell her by being there, she wondered. Reaching into the pocket of her dress, she pulled out some popcorn she remembered had fallen and gotten stuck there as she was running. As she looked down to pull it out, she finally noticed the huge tear through her skirt… then tears returned just as quickly as they had gone. The crow swooped down and pecked at the kernel of corn as she lazily let it slide from her hand.
The sea swelled against the rocks. Emily curled up with her head between her knees and began to sob.
Don’t let them in, don’t let them in, don’t let them in. They’re just thoughts, just thoughts, thoughts, that’s all. Her therapist’s voice stung like a needle through her temples; her head was pounding as she shook with anger and sadness. Waves continued to angrily crash upon the rocks as Emily’s sobs grew louder, more painful.
You’re all alone. No one can hear you. No one can save you, filthy slut. You should be ashamed of yourself. What would your mother think? What would your grandfather think?! The thoughts punched her in the gut, each blow bringing about a harder sob – sharper breathing. The waves were yelling at her. Her body was yelling at her. Her eardrums beating to the rhythm of the waves, pulsing angrily. It had to end. It had to stop. No more. No more.
She tried to stand but collapsed just as quickly as she had stood, clinging to her grandfather’s gravestone – hanging on for dear life. Despite being the one thing she could cling to it wasn’t enough; her grandfather could not save her anymore. She slowly slid down his gravestone, her blood smearing a path down the back of it. She wept knowing that the pain would not subside. Everything inside of her was screaming at her to end it but she knew she couldn’t. As she looked up at the streak of blood she left down her grandfather’s gravestone, she realized that this was what her life was: there, in that streak of blood, was everything that she really was to the world. No more tears… no more.
The waves came to a low calm as she turned away from the gravestone and sat with her back against it. A pale moon, unsheathed from the dark clouds of a passing thunderstorm, became her spotlight.
Somewhere, deep down inside of her, she knew none of it was right. She knew she should hate the person who had taken advantage of her… that she should have run to the police station or to her foster parents – or somebody who would’ve have listened. However, she knew that all of her attempts to make them understand – to make them believe – would be futile… useless. She finally understood it all herself for once.
All good things must come to an end.
Emily knew her time had come, no matter how hard she tried to fight it; she had lost way too much blood and she could feel the coldness sweeping across her body like an unshakeable chill. She turned her head slightly to kiss her grandfather’s gravestone. He may not have been able to save her but he was still there to comfort her. She placed one hand on her abdomen, right on the stab wound, as if she didn’t want anyone to see the truth. Finally, she peered around to take in her surroundings for the last time. The crow had come to rest by her hand and cooed quiet nothings to itself and the world like some old croon; the nearby sea had calmed its assault on the rocky shore; and the rose that had once been withered and almost black – that had been dragged through mud and nearly torn to shreds by during the attack – was full and red once more. It was beautiful, glowing, ornate… everything she wished she was.
Slowly, she closed her eyes.
No more. No more. Just… thoughts… jus – thoug – no…m…
The crow flew away across the sea, another safe passage under its wing. The rose was at rest, still brilliant with colour. For a second in time, all was silent.
Peace at last.
thatfroninja. 