Post 18 : Their Eyes

You walk into your house, you put your keys on the table and take off your coat. It’s quiet, your partner must be taking a nap, their keys are on the table right by yours. You walk into your bedroom, quietly, planning to get changed. But you see them.

They are pale, but way too vibrant, way too red. It’s everywhere you wouldn’t want it. But it’s the white that disturbs you the most. The bones, broken and stabbed where they shouldn’t be. A shin in an arm, an arm in a head, a jaw in an ankle. In their torn blue shirt, it’s almost a patriotic display. No rhyme nor rhythm, just white and red and blue.

But all at once that vibrant show of color, dull skin, oh god dull eyes, disappears. You still stare at that image in your memory. It haunts you even as your eyes open, their eyes.

“Hey.” It’s too casual, it’s too much, it’s your living room, their living room. It’s the photos of them on the wall, it’s their eyes, it’s vomit and a gag made of rope. “Hey it’s ok, calm down.”

A hand rubs your back, you wish it were them but it isn’t. It never will be again. “I’ve got you…” Was that a comfort? Was that a threat? You can’t tell because all you can hear is the deafening silence. What were their last words, their last thoughts? Could you have stopped the red, the white? “Look at me.” A command. That you recognize, that they would never have given you.

But they aren’t here. A man is here, he doesn’t have the decency to wear black. He’s dressed in pink, in red, like this is a celebration. Like he was stopping off to do a chore. Like he doesn’t even care. Does he even care? “I’ve got you.”

You want to tear him apart, you want to cry, you want to throw up, your throat still stings, you want to be free, you want to die, you want them. God, why them?

But there isn’t time for that as you’re hoisted up. Where are you going, their eyes call to you. You leave, not by choice, but with no fight. You want to fight, but how could you. You lost.

You lost them.

People say time heals all wounds.

He comes everyday to remind you, “One day you’ll forget them”. You hate him. You hate him for taking them instead of you, you hate him for taking you and them in different ways, you hate him because he won’t let you die, you hate him because you know he’s right.

No one came looking for you. No one but them.