Walking away: Her Story

Absentmindedly I twisted the rings circling my left ring finger.  While my movements were slow, they still paralleled the violent twisting of my heart.  I didn’t cry.  Not yet.  I knew that the moment the first tear slipped over the edge of my lashes that I would be lost.  Lost to everything.

I was standing on the field, watching my life walk away from me.  That … that is the only thing I knew at this moment.  Each step he took was another violent twist around my heart.  Run to him!  Run!  My soul screamed in fury and disbelief as I didn’t obey its cry.  It threatened to simply drift from my body and go after him itself.  If it knew how to accomplish that, there was no doubt in my mind that the threat would have been fulfilled.

There was a scent in the field.  It was a male scent.  The testosterone was tangible here.  Not overpowering, though it was strong.  It was something you’d expect here.  Something that you would want to smell on this field.  I let it roll over me, knowing that his mingled with the whole, reaching for any part, no matter how small, that I could reach of his.

The thought to simply drop where I was standing, to shut my eyes to this vision of horror, was intoxicating.  But, knowing that this fading glimpse could be my last kept me focused, sucking in every single drop my vision afforded of my love.

He turned.  He turned and my soul rejoiced.  My body reacted and I felt my limbs reviving.  I wanted to run to him, to pull him close against me and beg him once again not to leave me.  I waved and screamed, “I love you!”  Had I been even slightly able to filter my actions, words, or thoughts, I’d have been embarrassed to cause such a scene. 

And it all crashed to the ground as he lifted his hand half-heartedly before letting it drop and once again turning from me. 
With that, he disappeared onto the waiting bus.  I watched, wondering where he was; if I could see him peering out the window.  I was desperate to have every single moment I could, even if that moment was simply seeing him through a dirty window.

A heavy weight covered my shoulders and I tried to push it off, not comprehending anything but that grey bus.  The weight pulled me close.  “I can’t leave yet.  I’m not ready.”  My voice was quiet and raspy, despite my intention to shout the words.
I stood there, watching.  The bus slowly started to pull away and I was able to keep myself from chasing after it. 

Detachedly, I noticed there were a few who hadn’t been able to stop and were running, arms stretched out, and tears freely flowing. 

I gave in then to the darkness, the pain of my loss.  The fear that my husband had just touched me for the last time, that I’d never again feel the touch of his mouth on mine, overwhelmed me.  As my world went black I cursed the sand, I cursed the camels and I cursed war.

Walk Away ... His Story  (13+) His perspective walking away. #1552738 by Marleigh Rose