The Begining and The End

Today I kissed her. Her lips were soft, pink, perfect. But cold. Cold as death. Maybe because she’s dead, or at least she is now. But not then, which begs the question as to why? Why such a cold visage? A premonition or a coincidence, I’m not so sure myself. To tell the truth I don’t really care. They were perfect to me in every other way.

         It was a wet, humid day like so many hear. The sun hung low and bloody in the sky, alone and drooping like wilted flowers. The Streets were almost as desolate as the sky, apart from a cat. Fat and ugly, a sneering creature, clearly spoiled disgustingly by its equally obese owners. The sarcastic sound of an Ice cream truck could be heard, reverberating faintly in the air. Fat is dead in this world, men and women, even children, dropping like flies because of weight. But then again, She wasn’t fat. Far from it, she was youthful and thin. But still she is dead now. Unlike that cat.

         Its ugliness mirrored my own, though more in mood than appearance. I was fuming, sweating hatred. She had humiliated me, rejected me in front of all of them. Bitch.

That monster of a cat just sat there, perched on the wall. Watching. My vain attempt to calm down (in reading “A Donkey called Clide” a truly crap book), could not distract me form my thundering Migraine. My minds attempt to break through my skull and escape the shame. And those eyes, watching me. Relentlessly.

          I rose slowly, lethargically almost, so as not to alarm the rank little devil. Languidly polluting my life with its careless gaze. And slowly, I turned to face it.  Straight on. Pulling from my pocket the weapon. That same weapon, used only hours later to kill Her.

         A shot. A thud. It was over. A life ended. The world, no, my world, at last ridded of that monster. No regret. What was life anyway but a journey to the grave? Or so I thought a few hours ago. But not anymore, It is larger than that now.

         I turned down the alleyway and headed for home, thinking only to stop for a moment at a store, to refuel on cigarettes and whisky. To drown out my anger and my fast developing frustration. She should have never played with me like that. But I don’t want to hurt her, I couldn’t, she would only make it into a display again. She would only taunt me with her body then throw it in my face. Her striking body, thin, graceful and bursting with confidence. Perfection.

         The shop loomed out of the gathering dusk. Dank and ominous against the red glow of the sky. I entered, the lights flickering offensively above me, it was then I saw them. Three of them, loitering in the shadows by the adult magazine rack, leafing through a copy of Hawk. They were weedy boys, probably no older than fifteen, the strain of puberty shown in their lanky limbs and taut faces. I knew them, the glare of their bright clothing from earlier. Witnesses to my public disgrace.

         I could hear the shadow of their whispers, the feted stench of their hatred or was it pity? Floating across to assault my scenes. Festina Lente. I crossed to the counter. The greasy Spaniard smoking a fag lethargically as he took my money.

         One of those half-men, a smaller one with more courage than brains had sauntered over towards the door, blocking my exit. His face mocked me as he smirked “unlucky mate. She wernt fucking interested. Hahaha you fucking looser, like you could ever get a girl like that. Hahaha!”

I punched him. Hard. I was simmering with renewed rage. What gave that fifteen year old, spotty little shit the right to heckle me? Was I not equal if not better than him? At two years his senior with more brains and more respect? No. No because of her. No because of what she did to me. I could never have her. And It burned.

His blood was smeared across my knuckles. He was unconscious. His friends silent. The Spaniard completely unaware of the quiet confrontation that had just taken place in his store, as was the rest of the world. As was she. Oblivious.

I left. Not for home anymore, no. For her house. I wanted to ask her, weather it was intentional. Weather she meant to shame me like this or if she just blundered into it. What was it? My persistence? No not that, it must be my conviction. She always got uncomfortable when I told her of my dreams. She had such a relaxed attitude to everything. Even me it seemed. All that passion and honesty and justice in her nature meant nothing. With no conviction to push her forward. I crossed the park, kicking up a whirlwind of dust that drifted in my wake, like so many forgotten dreams.

Her house was on the east side of the city. There was nothing remarkable about it. White, clean with red shutters. No car in the drive. But I knew she was in. I knocked on the wire mesh door. I heard her coming down the stairs. The air was heavy with moisture. It was suffocating, making my thoughts even more fevered and hurried. She opened the door.

Her face transformed upon seeing me. From one of thoughtfulness to one of embarrassment and pity. “Oh. Hi.” I stared at her blankly, inviting her to explain and giving me time to calm down a little. “Umm, are you ok?” Silence. “Look about earlier, it wasn’t meant to happen like that. I didn’t mean for it to…”

“Shut up.” I failed to keep the anger from my voice. “That was so. So. Gah.” A half strangled sound of frustration as I pushed past her into the familiar living room.

“Look Kyle, just listen to me ok? I had been trying to tell you for weeks, weeks do you hear me?” I paced erratically, mind rushing and trying to suppress my rage.

“So Its been that fucking long has it? Shit. Shit…You realise what this means? Why did you have to lie?”

“I didn’t lie,” She was pleading now, desperately trying to find the words. ”If you had listened to me just once in the past few weeks, it would never have come out like that.”
“Oh really? Why didn’t you fucking tell me you were sick? Why did you keep it all from me?” My voice broke, I leaned against the wall for support. I pulled the gun from my pocket and threw it on the coffee table. “Do you even know what I was contemplating? Because of you. ” She had taken a step back.

“I’m so sorry.” She looked me in the eye, for the first time. Her eyes were swimming with tears. “The truth is I’m scared. I didn’t want you to leave me or treat me differently because I haven’t got much time left. The truth is Kyle I love you, I always have.”

I kissed her. Perfection. Lost in the moment. That’s why I didn’t notice. I didn’t see her reaching for the coffee table behind me. I only saw her. Her face wet with tears like an angel. Her eyes so full of feeling.

“I’m not afraid anymore.”

She must have scene it in the movies. I have no idea how she would know how to work It otherwise. Trigger cocked. Barrel bought swiftly to her mouth. A shot. A thud. It was over. A life ended. A life in ruins. My heart shattered.

She’s still lying on front of me even as I write this. I didn’t want to tough her in death. Not when I have felt her so fully alive only moments ago. No ones home yet. Not her mother or father. It seems the cancer wasn’t quick enough to kill her. “Im sorry.” Words so important. But to late. To late for us. The gun feels so much heavier now. It carries the destruction of human life on its steely shell now. The sunlight makes her face so pure and pale. So beautiful. But she is cold now. Cold as death.

It’s the cowards way out really. I know that. I lift the gun to my head, musing as it travels. They say that you don’t hear the sound of the bullet that kills you. All I hear is my blood rushing through my veins one last time. Trigger squeezed.

A thud. A life ended. A human soul finally at peace.