Amandasmithbiology
Hello, I am a hobby writer and a marathon runner. I am currently studying biology in college.
Amandasmithbiology
Hello, I am a hobby writer and a marathon runner. I am currently studying biology in college.
Hello, I am a hobby writer and a marathon runner. I am currently studying biology in college.
Hello, I am a hobby writer and a marathon runner. I am currently studying biology in college.
I found the note sitting on the dresser, neatly folded next to a bouquet of roses.
“I think we both knew this was coming. I have spent 22 years chasing happiness as if I could catch them if I just ran fast enough. But I am finished chasing life and the world. I have no more fight less in these bones. Baby, my muscles are sore and I am gasping for breathe. I just don’t want to run anymore. And for that I am so sorry. I have always loved you and if I can love you from where I go I swear I always will.” I sink to my knees clutching the note to my now heavy chest. There is a catch in my throat, she always begged me never to leave her. But in the end? She was the one who left us, me.
I woke up next to his sleeping form peacefully. This would be the last time. I gently kiss his cheek and rise to my feet. I am looking in the mirror and I am not sure who I see anymore. This shadow that haunts me is drowning me and I am bleeding out all the will I have to survive. I cast a glance once more at him. He who was everything to me. He who had promised to never leave. I move towards the closet and select the Lacey black dress I had set aside for this occasion. I slip into it. I think I may be beautiful in this dress, in another life. One that isn’t mine. I’ve got my keys and I’m driving into the forest of swaying trees. It’s fall and it’s beautiful. Unlike anything I have ever seen and I wonder if it’s just because I know this is forever. I exit the car and stare up into the trees. I’m tying the knot and I am climbing. I am done. I am free. And I am flying through the air. And for once, it is painless.
She’s been gone for 15 years now. I’m 40 years old now and I don’t hike through the forest. I am painfully aware of all the things that could have been. I feel her like a whisper on my skin. It’s been 15 years of the agonizing what if’s.
“I think I just met the happiest person on earth.” I thought to myself as I watched her run… No, dance through the swaying trees of a forest of leaves catching fire of orange and yellow. Leaves falling from twisted branches like snow highlighting her graceful form in the near distance. A few paces ahead of her ran her ever faithful dog who periodically looked over his head at her, tongue lolling happily out. These weekend trail runs had become a staple of our time together. It is comical though, how ones outward appearance shields the true emotion within. She turns her head, blonde hair swinging away from her rosy face. A smile spreads across her lips and I swear I see it in slow motion. How the action takes over her entire face. I am chasing after her, after my dreams. I never knew how ones world could be condensed into something so small and fragile. A feeling like love. Like forever. Like happiness.
A book flies past my head slamming into the wall behind me. Across the counter stands my husband. The father of my children and partner. We are fighting again. I swear it is the last time, every time. He’s staring at me with those eyes that once captured my soul. Now I am only captured by my fear. He takes a stumbling step towards me and I brace myself for the impact of what it is to come. He clumsily attempts to grab another timeless hardcover from the mahogany bookshelf, the one he built for me. He fumbles with the spine and opts for the steel bookend nearby. He raises it above his head and aims it in my direction. It connects with my face with a awful thud. I explode violently, advancing towards him grasping the book that he threw before. I briefly glance down finding the book in my hand to be our wedding album. I rack it across his sloppy form and he retaliates with futile fists. We exchange punches and kicks, album in hand. I slam it into the top of his skull as he wraps both arms around my waist bringing me unto the ground. He wrestles the book from my hands and casts it aside. I swear it is almost poetic how he so easily throws it away, the same way he throws us away. How he throws punches and objects. Our domestic life is anything but. It is angry and burning and animalistic. He has his hands wrapped around my neck now and is straddling me. I am sinking under the burden of his weight. I am breathless in the betrayal of love and its ugly hydra head. I grip his hands and dig my nails into the flesh there but he is unfaltering and relentless. 3 minutes. Does he have that long? Could he hold me for 3 minutes..? I struggle against the weight of my dead love. I punch him with the hand that wears my wedding ring and he lets up from pressure. I take a grasping breath and wrestle out of his grip. He falls to the ground beside me. His breath is dragon’s fire of liquor. I come to my feet quickly and grab the album and barricade myself in the bedroom passing through the halls of my, our home. Pictures and paintings hang from the wall unmoving and unprovoked by the happenings of the house. To be so apathetic as to be inanimate, I wish I was inanimate. He chases after me and I slam the door just as he reaches the frame. I lock the door and tear out the pages of the album as the pages fall like snow at my feet. Tear apart our happy memories. The alter, my sparking white dress. His smile, our family united. Tear it all until it is nothing but tinder to be set aflame. He pounds the door wordless. There are no words for what has come to pass and will continue. But I will set this place alight.