I wonder if it will ever stop. The pain. The agony. Will I wake up one day, and not have to find my lungs in order to breathe? Ever have to force myself to say I love you to the woman I don't even know, yet will soon be marrying. Pretend that everything is okay? Will it ever stop? The madness.
I can still hear her voice. Whispering, laughing, crying, begging. Screaming. The screaming is endless, like the pain I live in.
Her eyes follow me, her skin always caressing me.
Nothing will ever make it go away. Not the endless drinking, or useless therapy sessions. She will always be there.
Time always moves though. It has no sympathy for those who are lost. For bleeding hearts, mourning lovers, gasping breaths. It runs a tight schedule, after all.
I don't think I'll ever find my way. The last image of her face is so lovely it twists inside of me like a snake of razor blades. Her lovely face, ghostly white, eyelashes like feather resting upon her sharp cheekbones, thick full lips touching softly together, black thick hair curled sweetly around her breathtaking face, all nestled deeply inside her satin coffin. You couldn't even tell she'd committed suicide.
I love her so much sometimes it almost suffocates me. Sometimes I hate her so much I wish I would have been the one to kill her.
I stare at the mirror, sweat sliding down the sides of my face, eyes haunted. Rebecca sleeps in the bedroom quietly, unaware of who I even am. She's only in it for my last name. A name that will bring her riches and wealth. I hate her almost more than I hate myself.
Summer stares at me in the mirror, for I do not see my reflection. I never do. Her face is so beautiful. It makes me cry.
"I'm sorry," I whisper through the agony. Her eyes do not waver at my voice. She simply stares at me. Or through me. I was never there. So busy at work. So busy trying to make her happy. She was miserable.
I should have listened. She was too closed in, not made for the world I was raised in. She was meant to be free.
I vomit into the sink.
"Honey, are you okay?" Rebecca's voice is thick with sleep, and that is it. No concern, just a knee jerk reaction. She must act like she loves me. It's what a couple is suppose to do.
"Come to bed, darling, it's three in the morning."
The bed is just a bed. It is not a place I rest. I don't know the meaning of rest.
I take a bottle of sleeping pills and swallow every last bit. Another bottle as well. And another.
I go to the bed, withering internally from the pain but sighing because I know soon it will be over. I will be with my Summer. Some way or another.