In the mist of all the things going on; a waging war, family issues, origins, her so called work, her talent—the lack of it would be a more correct term, and the needed attention of the household, her mind was astray.
She was a small woman of a small figure and raven hair. She looked quiet and worn down by life. She was still young, barely in her early thirties. That much was obvious about her. But she looked older, drained, and used--used like a tool. Her work was special; in order to conceal her true profession she sustained odd jobs. Writing short stories and novels, working as a waitress, a baby sitter that kind of jobs that drew no attention to her. Such a strange woman she was. She could stand out, or she could disappear in the crowd, go unnoticed for long periods of time, by anyone. She never got acquainted with her neighbors.
Ah, she had been in love once. The best and the worst times of her life. He had stolen her heart, but they were no good for each other. They both were dangerously lethal, dangerously bad. They loved so one another, with their whole heart, a pure love, a true love. But they could never be together. They created calamities for one another. They were the harbingers of destruction for each other.
As of late, she kept finding herself thinking of him, of his lips, of his warm touch, the way he spoke and put things together. She still remembered every detail about him. Did he remember her too? She thought about his music, and his voice, his violin and the long and endless hours he’d spend cooped up at the conservatory. She hesitated than allowed herself to think about his pretty average shoulders, and long but always pained fingers. His essentially sad eyes that brightened whenever he saw her. Such a strange man he was. She had dearly loved him for as long as she could remember. Her job, chores, even the moon reminded her of him. Even irrelevant things reminded her of him. She was even stranger.
So, why now of all times was she reminiscent of years long gone by? Of a love she had buried so long ago, against the better judgment of her heart? Rather on the decision of her brain. What was this heavy feeling on her chest? Something heavy sat on her chest and just forgot to get up. She felt like she was drowning.
Not that she ever lived a day without his presence, but even for her-- what was it? Surely there was a reason why this vivid imagination of him just sprung from her mind, like spring sprung flowers. Bright and bold. He clung on to her like a skin. The melody he had composed for her was all she really heard in her mind, other than his imaginary heart beats, his raspy voices saying her name, and singing her to sleep. She had always had a hard time falling asleep. But with him gone, she was an insomniac. It’s not like she slept at night anyways. It was her job hazard. Their relationship, nay, their love was impossible. They just could not be together. It was true that no matter what, he had only cared for her. No matter how badly she messed up, he had still yearned to be with her. She had messed up often. No matter how badly he messed up, she had still yearned to be with him. He had messed up often. The only person that managed to understand her and stand up for her…that was him. She had brought danger, love and life into his dull and musical life. His bravery, his intelligence, his company--she had missed him so dearly. But they were so lethal to one another.
Embracing the fantasy world was something she did. After all the vengeance, sadness and loneliness are dried up, something needed to motivate her. The promise of a better future was less than valid and logical than her fantasy world, in her circumstances. She messed up her life pretty badly. Why? Because of her choices. Because of her love. Because of him.
She was a messed up woman. She had been good once. Hatred and rage got the better part of her though. She was disturbed and deranged. She had spiraled out of control then. It was impossible to get out when they meet one another. Not all kinds of love changes people into the best people on earth. Not because their love isn’t true and honest. They were madly in-love with one another. Too in love. Their love was so raw, so emotional, and so imbalanced. That’s what threw them into abyss. Their love was pure, but their relationship was unhealthy. Together, they dwelled in darkness. That was their problem. They didn’t change into angels of goodness because of love. Their love drove them into further blasphemy. Not all love is good. They were no good for each other. They ruined each other’s lives. That’s what they did. They drove one another mad. They longer they stayed together, more life they took out of each other’s hearts. It took them a long time to realize. They slowly killed one another metaphorically. But it hit them on the face that one night really hard. Their love was never the same thence. He was no good either. An established violinist, but oh my, was he messed up at the head. We all have our flaws, but they must be manageable. Needless to say, she and he could not. They loved each other so, but to be so bad for the very thing that have consumed you, that you have consumed. Such a sad fate when lovers cannot be together.
To escape into fantasy wide awake only proved to get difficult with time. Happiness was beyond both of them. She was unhappy without him. But with him she suffered. They shared such a big passion for one another that they let go of the world. He was unable to get up in the morning to go to work; she was unable to leave him in their bed in the middle of the night to go to work. They forgot to clean, they forgot to live, they didn’t turn on the television, they didn’t read newspapers and they simply ignored the rest of the world. They slowly decayed next to each other, stealing from one another and killing one another. For him only she existed, for her only he existed. They lived in sin with one another. They destroyed one another with their love.
Violinists require long practice hours and recital dates that crucify the musician. He could not make music without her. She made his music. Being the paramour of a hit woman is not an easy thing. She could not kill when he was in her life. She couldn’t get herself to pull the trigger. Hired for kill. She feared each time she went to take somebody else down; they would take his sweet life away. Guns are such a bad hobby to develop at the age of thirteen. Happiness was beyond them both. They lived normal without each other, unhappy, but functioning in their own hells. But together, they created havoc both for each other and all that surrounded them. A weapon she was…she was an instrument of death and sin with a heartbeat, a soul and a haunting mind. What was he? A violinist with severe depression and problems left over from his childhood. He played the songs of hell. They were so lethal to one another, yet so in-love. How could this be?
So, why now? Why now of all times, did he haunt her? Their break up was messy, heart shattering and nasty. They had both lost all touch with reality. With each other gone at first, they both went on a rampage. Eventually both settled down to lead normal lives though. But he had never haunted her so. She was sure it wasn’t the regret of leaving her one and only true love. Regrets were a part of her past, her nature. She always managed to come to terms with it. That was her flaw. She had to for her job. It interfered. The mistakes of the past, continuously slapped her, constantly at every second, awake or asleep. This feeling on her skin, this awkward waiting before the storm—yes that was exactly it. Calm before the storm. But this was too much. To be completely barren, lonely and miserable. It was unbearable to face this constantly.
This was beyond longing, hope and heavy baggage. While longing was second nature; hope was a foreign feeling for her. She had ditched it a long time ago when she figured she was screwed up no matter what. Baggage? Her whole being was a baggage. Do you know how many she had killed since she was sixteen? You don’t want to know. She dealt with the skeletons in her closet. This was something more—this she could not deal with.
This was an omen; she knew it, with every fiber of her being. Something was coming and her instincts were warning her. Her instincts allowed her a great advantage. That’s how she had made it so far. But, what were her instincts telling her to run away from? What, of him? Him? Danger?! He couldn’t harm a hair on her hand, let alone to go after her. At least physically. Sure they destroyed one another through their mutual consuming love. Though they screamed at one another at times, they had arguments and disagreements, but not once had he ever tried to hurt her physically. Quite to the contrary. He was always a gentleman towards her. He was always so kind, and so caring. Their destructible relationship was born out of their intense love and consuming passion for one another. The harm that was done to both was something born out of their relationship. It wasn’t intentional harm to one another. They both held each other at the highest regards and light. So what was it? What could it be? Every cell on her body screamed RUN AWAY. Hide, so you won’t be hurt again. Life had taken away everything. There was nothing more left in her, but bitter after taste of feelings and memories, and oh yeah-- a beating heart. That was always an afterthought. If you can count that. What else could they take from her? They had drained everything. Sucked her dry. It had been such a long time she had felt anything. She certainly did not feel alive. Pain, suffering and even sorrow had dulled. Happiness had diminished. Her smile robbed, her body violated, parents taken away, siblings long dead, she buried her love with her own hands. All the good had left, fleeted from her. Constant misery, brooding darkness and agony were all she felt. The idea of, nay a glimpse of seeing him, once more, even if eternal slumber came from his hands and she knew that catching a second long glimpse would be worth the apocalypse of the world. Her own damnation--her doom. It would be worth more than what she had left to give, if anything at all was left to give. Everything she couldn’t give, sacrifice. Not because she wanted it for herself. Rather she didn’t have it to sacrifice, to give. She was exposed, barren and naked. If she had everything before she had lost it, he could have it all. If she was graced by his presence for one short moment, to feel him in the same room, to be on the same earth as he, to breathe the air he breathed, to see him, and hear his voice, and feel the warmth of his life for one fickle moment. She doesn’t have to touch or to feel him and that would be okay. If she could just do those, she was ready to burn in hell again.
She would gladly be tormented and tortured and live a more morbid life than she already was. God could send her to the very core and the darkest, deadliest, most sinister chamber of hell and be locked there for the rest of eternity. If she could just see him again, it would be worth it. He didn’t have to return her feelings anymore. She would be accepting of that. She wouldn’t stay in his life even if he did remember her, loved her, hated her, and didn’t want to see her again. She wouldn’t run away from seeing him one last time, even if she knew that he wanted to claim her rugged and worthless life. That would be fine-- just one glimpse. Oh God. She could never ask for anything else in the world. For those reasons alone, she would risk it all. The raven haired girl will face hell, damnation, destruction, and be conquered, tortured and battered, for him, by him. The very nothing she had left, she would give it all.
So she would not hide, but be extinguished destroyed all with her own will. What the demons of her world could not do, this human man could without lifting a finger. He could destroy her so easily. He had destroyed her so easily. The indestructible hit woman that has overcome it all is nothing but dust in front of her passion. The idea of catching a sight of him excited her. Was that the feeling? She had forgotten. She had not felt any emotion in so long. She had forgotten how it felt.
Before him she will stand and be punished. Through him God will deliver, had delivered his retribution. She was going to burn in hell once her heart had stopped. She had never believed anything else. Since she pulled that trigger the first time when she was fourteen. She never had any misconceptions about that. The only difference is that she never thought she would burn on earth too.
When was he or any danger related to him coming? The feelings, thoughts that were locked in a safe had been released; the rest was trying to break out of her. Her bruised and scarred heart was waiting to be tormented by him for the rest of eternity, through the hands of her passion.