She could no longer feel her body. She could sense the cold. She could sense the fatal grasp of the freezing rain pounding her body relentlessly into the earth as if it were trying to bury her alive. She could sense her heart beating more and more slowly with every second. She could sense death, but she could not feel it.
He said he wouldn’t leave her.
The numbness had spread rapidly as the rain pounded across her back and stung her bare shoulders. The pain had not lasted long before the cool, calm hand of nothingness took her up into its palm and whispered solace into her aching skin. The sharp needles of water and the fire of frozen air had only danced across her spine for a few brief hours and then the bliss of insensitivity had enveloped her. She was not unconscious, though. Her mind still raced with confusion and her head still spun with desperation. Though her body lay as limp and lifeless and unfeeling as a rag doll tossed in the mud, her mind was still as alert as ever. Her mind, though not her body, still felt pain.
He said he wouldn’t leave her.
It was as if all the searing pain of every inch of her naked skin had all been placed into one bottle that had then been taken and poured out into her thoughts. As the physical hurt had receded like the ocean’s tide, pulling back into her brain, a hurricane grew within her mind and there reeked a havoc that cut far deeper than the freezing rain. Physically she was drowning in a puddle of mucky mire, but emotionally she was drowning in a sea of her own blood, slowly sinking below the surface of her own lifeline. She had filled her life too full. She had gotten too much of everything she wanted and it was going to kill her. The daggers in her own mind would cut her out of life’s canvas before the frost bit hard enough. Agony would kill her first, unless…
He said he wouldn’t leave her.
He promised to be there for her any time she needed him. He said that no matter how far she went or how hard she tried to get rid of him, he wouldn’t leave her. He promised that anytime she needed someone to talk to, he would be there. He promised that anytime she needed a hand to hold, he would be there. He promised that anytime anywhere for any reason, he would be there. He would always be just a whisper away, a heart-flutter and an eye-twinkle around the corner. He would never leave her. But he did. He left her all alone.
He said he wouldn’t leave her.
He could see her small, naked form lying sprawled in the muddy arms of mother earth, nearly dead, nearly hopeless, but not quite. Her heart still beat and a tiny ember of hope was still burning feebly within her chest. The rain kept coming, though, and he knew it would not be long before even that small speck would be obliterated. Not long before he would have to give her away, not because he would want to, but because he would have to. Because death would be knocking at her door and the moment she stepped though that portal, she would be gone and he could not follow her. A tear carved its way down his cheek.
She said he was her life.
He wanted to grab her by the waist, pull her up, and hold her tight. He wanted to pull her out of the grime she was wallowing in and clean her off, give her new clothes, and take her home to be his wife, but he couldn’t. He wanted to take her out of the freezing cold and give her a nice warm blanket. He wanted to get her out of the razor sharp rain that was mercilessly piercing her mottled skin. He wanted to save her. He wanted to make her happy, but he couldn’t. He could only watch.
She said he was her life.
He knew it was almost over. Her lips had turned blue beneath the web of hair that covered her face. The redness of her cheeks had begun to fade to a dull crimson, and then darken even more to a bleak purple. Her breathing, shallow and inconsistent, had shrunk from ragged gulps to an inconsistent almost imperceivable whisper. His heart ached as he watched her slowly fading into nonexistence. It burned his heart to see her so deprived. He would have done anything to save her; he already had. He had given up everything to save her, but he could do no more. He did everything he could and lost all he had, but at least he was there. He was right next to her, just like he promised. He had lost everything trying to save her, and it seemed even she was part of that price, unless…
She said he was her life.
Everyday he had asked her to take his ring and become his wife, but time and time again she refused. She would smile politely when he asked and sigh prettily before giving a half-hearted excuse. She wasn’t ready. He was too good for her. All the other girls would despise her for it. She would tell him “no” every time and every time the excuse would change. The only thing that always remained the same: she said he meant more to her than life. Apparently not, for she was dying and would not give him the one answer that could save her. He was not her life because he did not belong to her… not yet.
She said he was her life.
He said he wouldn’t leave her.
They told her he left and that he was never coming back, that his love was a hoax and so was he. They told her she wasn’t worth marriage anyway, and they raped her. They stripped away her innocence, stole her purity, and left her broken in the rain and mud. They whispered doubts into her ears, left scratched on her skin and gouges in her heart. They stole her beauty and her dreams. They told her that he didn’t want her, that she didn’t need him, and that she would have more fun with them. They gave her the drugs of compromise, the sex of second best. They screamed and cried, they smiled and blushed, and they deceived her. They told her he was gone, and she believed them. They raped her. They lied.
He saw them. He knew they would come before they ever did and he tried to protect her, but she wouldn’t listen. She did not take his ring. He saw them coming and watched as they ripped every piece of clothing from her back and railed and taunted at her ignorance. Fire burned within him as he witnessed their cruel torture. Even after they were gone in presence he could smell the breath of their putrid lies swirling around her on the ground, infesting her thoughts with bitterness. He wanted to help her, but she had to let him. She had to take his ring and be his wife before he could touch her or else he would be just like them. He couldn’t force her, but it was the only way.
She had given up, lost faith, and determined to let go completely and plunge into the depths of her pain and die. The only thing that held her to consciousness was the hope that she was wrong, the hope that they had lied and that he would come back, a hope that would only let her down for even if he did return he would not want her anymore. He was gone, surely. How could he let her suffer if he was still there? How could he sit watching as she was raped, stabbed, frozen, and dying? How could he? With her last breath, with resignation in her heart, she allowed her eyes to flutter open. She unhinged the windows to her soul to let her spirit fly away, prepared to look into the face of the darkness and loneliness that she was drowning in, prepared to die. Instead she saw his face.
He saw it coming before she knew what she was doing and smiled. Her tiny ember turned grey for a moment and stayed dark, preparing to leap into the ashes but in a sudden burst of desperate faith it gleamed blue and her eyes flashed open. He was smiling. He could help her now. She did not need to say what he had to hear aloud for he had read it in every fiber of her eyes. Yes. She would marry him.
He said he wouldn’t leave her.
She said he was her life.
She felt her body slowly awaken as feeling crept back into her toes, fingers, chest, and head. The last thing she felt again was her lips.
He bent down and wrapped his strong arms around her waist and picked her up. He cradled her in his arms and bent his head down toward her face. He put his lips on hers and breathed his life into her lungs.
He never left her.
He was her life.
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