eye of the needle. finn day 7
Dec 13, 2014 22:32:33 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Dec 13, 2014 22:32:33 GMT -5
[presto]  [/presto] |
F I N N
("Finn, I don't want to die alone.")
It was so sporadic - lying down at day six by myself on my back, staring at the ceiling with nothing more to keep me company than the smell of mercury. All six days, sporadic and nothing more. Impulse building upon impulse like blocks, nerves tying and lacing over each other in a web of pain to catch me from falling into this abyss. I'm alone. Life is so damn sporadic, I'm certain now. We are so ignorant to think that it isn't, that even the so coherent plans we build for our own forever are nothing more than sporadic seconds built upon the odds of these things occurring.
Stella and I were supposed to live forever, and those six days were. They were her forever, and they were mine back when I was her's and she was mine. We planned against the will of time that we would last longer than the caves around us, but life is so sporadic. It's so playful - life took her away from me. There was never a forever from the beginning was there? There was just Finn, and there was just Stella and there was just the dark and the rocks to hold us two together for as long as that flashlight's battery could last.
I promised not to leave her, I promised that as long as she was alive that flashlight wouldn't go out. (That wasn't the plan though was it, dead man?) I wanted her dead, even as I started to regret taking her leg off I still felt it in my veins. Her life wasn't supposed to coexist with mine, not in this universe. There's only one forever, and I couldn't let her have it. I couldn't, life is too sporadic, too unknown to me. I couldn't let her live, I couldn't trust life to treat her right. I'm laying on my back barely feet away from her body, and I'm happy she died. I'm happy I killed her, because it had to be me.
I had to kill her. After she died, after I was utterly stained, I sat with her still. She died, with nothing more than one leg and a flashlight, and I watched. I never left, because I promised. I loved her, and I killed her, and I'm happy with both. I watched her live for five days, I watched her laugh and cry and dance and sing with me and I saw her face every time I hurt her, and I watched her die. I saved her though, I saved her from this pain, from this utter fucking emptiness that feels like a plague, a spreading in my heart cavities that's eating itself whole.
It hurts so much, it hurts so much to try to be happy again. It hurts so much to breathe and just to keep myself alive, (so why are you, dead man?) and I miss her so. I'm curled up near her still, I can't bring myself to leave her because it hurts so. I killed her, I saved her, so why does it pain me so? It feels like acid in my throat every time I look back at her, with a spotlight on her face even in death and she doesn't look peaceful. She didn't die peaceful, and it hurts me to know that I hurt her. It hurts because I'm selfish enough to kill her and to still say how bad I'm in pain.
How selfish does it make me to take another life? I killed the blonde girl two days ago, I killed Stella yesterday, and they feel like two different cases. I'm curled into a ball, around the conch she held onto so hard while I killed her. ("I can fix this, I can Stella, I can fix this I promise.") There's nothing left to fix - there's no good left in the world. All there is is me and Cha and two others and I need Cha, I need her so, but she doesn't need me. I don't need me, I saved Stella so why am I still so evil?---
"Should I have let her go bad again?"
"Yes."
"Will I be able to return to her again?"
"Yes."
"Will I?"
"No."---
Her body was still warm when I fell asleep crying, I'm pretty sure, but when I woke up there was no more Stella. Her body was gone - her leg, her hair, her song and her dance. I was truly alone, except for the conch I held to my chest. I hated it, I hated every second of waking up; I hated the bags under my eyes and the scraps on my arms and the grit in my hair and the plaque on my teeth and the smell of mercury so much that I was tempted to swim in the very lake. I scratched at my scalp until the skin was too sore to scratch anymore as the anthem blared at my dilated eyes.
Pearl died. Who is Pearl? (Who is she, dead man?) I ignore the face as I rub the cut on my forehead.
As the sky flashes between faces I look back, and it feels like I'm swallowing the tide the second I do. The second I see her face for the last time I crash and burn, I feel the very cells of my skin inflame as I do. My nine fingers are shaking around the conch and I feel lightheaded, I feel like a light weight. I feel the whites of Cha's eyes boreing into mine as I dig my nails into the covering of the conch in my hands (I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, don't fuck with a dead man.) It feels blank as I smash the conch against my head, three times.---
"Will I get back to Cha tomorrow?"
"No."
"Will I ever see Cha again?"
"Yes."
"Will I get back to Cha two days from now?"
"Yes."---
I wish I hadn't have kept moving.
table @ elegant
