I Remember...

I remember…

I remember the pain.

I remember the last time a bullet drilled it's way into me; making an unwelcome home inside of me.

It'd been raining incessantly, and the rain was slowly beating down on the cobbles; rivulets merging together; creating rivers of water. The clouds were dark and threatening, foreboding with promises of more rain; more destruction. But it didn't matter; I'd reached my threshold already; that little point inside when i knew the line had been crossed. And I knew there could be no turning back...

The rain covered the road, hiding the many imperfections in the road beneath me; the cracks, gaps in the cobbles. All covered by the water, which moved violently towards an obscure, unknown end, to be forgotten and replaced like some cheap trinket.

"We continue to face an unrelenting bout of rain, as the worst storm in recorded history continues to beat down upon us.", the news reporter had said, echoing the pains of the people who hated the rain.

I embraced it as it fell upon me, sending chills down my spine.

The steel of the bullet in me was cold, sending a dull fire of ice coursing through me, warming me with the only 'heat' I could feel anymore. The heat and cold of pain. It kept me alive; propelled my every movement; my every footstep. The droplets of blood had stopped falling to the floor; they now obeyed the red hand which had tried valiantly to slow their fall. The droplets were married to the raindrops and they fell together, plunging to the ground in a sweet embrace of doom.

The fruit of betrayal had tasted sweet on my lips; truthful in it's destruction. I looked back on what had happened; how she had hurt me with her well spun web of deceit. Pulled me into her trap and toyed with me before delivering the final bite… The truth... I could have handled the truth; but not the lies. The painful truth, I would have been able to face it, but I couldn't face the unknown. She'd sent ghosts, placed them inside my mind to haunt my innermost being; make me regret. To taunt me with illusions of what could have been… But not lies of someone else's making.

For if they had been of my own making, I at least would know why I lied to myself, and why I needed to save myself from the harsh realities of the truth. But not someone else's lies. Sweet words of ambrosia, honey in the ears, and sand in the stomach. Words designed to injure, hurt, and maim the soul. That, I could not handle…

I tried to save it; tried to save the pieces, but they fell away in my hands, running through my fingers like the rain that fell on me now. That's what she didn't realise. That I tried to save the few fragments of the picture; hopefully to mend them later, when I was ready. But she left me, to disappear from reality and take residence in my mind… And try as I might, I couldn't resurrect her; it was too late.

She became an illusion, her face lost to the sands of time; immortalised only by name, alive only in the mind's eye. She died that day, and became the ghost that she'd sent me... That's probably what hurts the most; if I was to have seen her again, I would have been oblivious to the fact. I realise that it's now only a bittersweet memory, but that doesn't dull the pain. I doubt anything will…

And now I suppose I'll never know. I'll never know if she lied to me or if she did want what I wanted; if her doors were open in the same way that mine are now. I realise, of course, that she is dead to everything but my mind, but I still cannot let go of the memory, and I still hope that one day the torch she lit can be passed on to someone else, who will allow me to recompense for the mistakes I made on that day… I'll never know if she could have saved me from the desolation that now empties me.

The rain fell as I walked onwards, mingling with my silent tears, washing them away, but not bringing any purity to the tainted cracks inside of me.

I regret it so much; that I was unable to see what she was doing; that I couldn't take the golden opportunity she presented me. And now, the events of that day haunt me, ghosts that I've lost countless hours of sleep to... Every day, I remember the sweetness of that memory, knowing that it may have changed through overuse, warped till it was bent to suit my own twisted needs. Bent to become an illusion just as much as she did…

Maybe I should have died then, but several lessons would have been lost. Like the value of friendship; the importance of trust. The implicit need to do something yourself, if it's important to you…

I remember how they looked at me like I was some sort of crazy freak, and how they refused to believe me… Not like it was anything new; I'm used to that. But still, it hurt, knowing that you were alone in your pain, despite half-hearted consolations and feigned attempts at help from those friends I was supposed to trust… It was then that I realised the true value of friendship; the true value of many, many things…

Maybe even the true value of life itself…

And so, it is that I remember how the bullet came to be lodged in my soul, 'routing my synapses', slowly killing me with every step that I took.

The darkness consumed me, blanketing me.

I welcomed it.