Myself and Him

The crash left us swollen, puffy, like something had crawled inside our skin and sat inside us. I can hear him breathing. I feel split. There’s me, myself and him and I.

We’ve been following for hours. They led us high into the mountains. Each level twisting higher and higher. Bounded closely by rock and undergrowth, crushing in on my fractured thoughts, the pressure of all those tonnes of rock pushing down on me. Dead weight.

By the time we reach the top it is dark. No light at all. I can hear him breathing still. His arms outstretched within me. Pushing against the inside of my stretched flesh. I feel the pressure of the depths below. Of the darkness pressing against my open, blind eyes.

Someone presses a handful of glow sticks into my hand. No one speaks but I can hear them. All of them. Going on for miles. The thudding in my chest anvils over and over. I suddenly need the light more than I need to breathe. I feel that pressure between my fingertips as I bend the stick until it cracks.

A soft neon glow lights the tufts of grass around me. I’m sitting in a hollow. There’s no one around me. I’m alone. Not alone. I throw a light stick into the cavern beneath my feet. It tumbles down. Down. And is gone. My arms have gone and I watch as he tosses the glowing lights one at a time. Down.

A few light sticks flicker far below. Then nothing. My light is out. Gone. He threw them away. Alone again. He sits there. Breathing with my dried out lungs. Crackling as they whisper breath in and out through my broken lips. Who is there? I scream without a sound.

We.

The darkness opens up before me. He glories in it. I close my eyes. I think. There’s no difference. I live here in the dark now. My companions from long ago are gone. Living in their own private darkness. I have mine that I share with myself and with him.

My.