by Rich Hayden
“I’m...so sorry, Ali,” he slurred out one night as he sat across from her at the dinner table.
“We’re both to blame,” she whispered.
“I love...you and only...you in this world. Be...be...because nothing else in this world is as beautiful as...you are right now,” Amil said.
“I’ll always take care of you,” she reassured.
“...you shouldn’t have to. One d...d...day, I’ll make this up to...you. I swear...that one d...d...day...you’ll have the life...you deserve.”
“I have you,” she squeaked through a choked up smile.
Amil finished the daunting task of coercing all of his peas onto his fork and drank the last of his water. He rose from the table, and, using the solid top of the mahogany for support, he shuffled his way over to Ali.
“Amil, you won’t be able to get back up,” she cautioned as he attempted to kneel by her side.
“As long as I’m by...you, I don’t care if I ever get up...again.”
As they embraced, Ali felt as a few tears warmed her cheek. She tried to stay strong, but as Amil crumbled within her arms, she allowed a river of grief to spill from her tired eyes.
By St. Patrick’s Day, Amil’s speech was still a bit off, but he had at least attained some command over language again. He walked with a cane, something that was unlikely to ever change, but he was able to get around on his own and without too much pain. He was able to return to work and relieve Ali of a small fraction of her burden. His sense of humor made a slight return, and, for the first time in months, the couple had sex without the interruption of pain or malfunction. Arduously slow, life wound closer to as normal as it was ever going to be, and as the days passed by, smiles found their way to Ali’s lips more often.
But every light eventually yields to blackness, and as such, they were forced to sell the house. A pit of medical debt left them broke, and, although they fought tooth and nail to avoid it, the couple at last gave in to the safety net of bankruptcy. They again found themselves in a small apartment, sharing one beat-up car and dining on cheap ready-made meals. Life was as hard as it had ever been, but Ali persevered. The unconditional love Amil gave to her was all she really needed. He never lost his temper. He never complained or questioned anything she did. All his pure affections served to fill so many of the voids that had long festered inside Ali, but Amil could not shed the anguish he carried, as he felt responsible for robbing her of an independent life.
As Ali lay passed out on the couch, Amil watched her as she slept. She looked so peaceful, so young and beautiful. As he observed her slumber, Amil thought of how she should be out dining with friends, gleefully chasing a small child around the house, or unwinding while on vacation far away from the dreary Northeast. She could be tending to a new garden on Delafield Avenue, cheering wildly at a Steelers game or, jogging around the lake at North Park. But she was never going to do any of those things. Every day would be the same for Ali. She was going to tend to Amil’s every need, prepare meals for him, drive him here and there, and stick close to home for fear of his rickety gait sending him down the stairs. And every single night of her life, for the rest of her life, Ali was going to pass out in front of a 21” color TV with basic cable.
In a labored process that almost brought Amil to screams, he knelt by her side, kissed her forehead, and again rose to his feet. He stepped outside and breathed in the clean air of a quiet night. He looked to the moon above and felt a kinship with the deadened orb. It did nothing but circle around the brilliant sun every day to suck away whatever light that it could. It had nothing to give in return, and even if it strived to show affection to its celestial mate, the love it had to offer was paltry. It was a shell, a cold and silent remnant of a life gone away and of a future never to come.
My dearest Ali, you have given me the greatest life a man could ever wish for or dream of. All of my fondest memories involve you there by my side. You are truly the most beautiful person I have ever met, and every day of my life with you has been a blessing. I have tried to give you the wonderful life that you deserve, but I have failed. I should have cherished you more, and I should have never taken you for granted. You are truly an angel, my angel, who has rescued and watched over me time and time again. But I know an angel never gives up, so sometimes, that burden needs to be lifted for you. I’ve caused you to suffer for too long, you’ve sacrificed for me long enough. I’ll set you free of me, Ali. You deserve this second chance that I know you would never give yourself. You’re still young, live your life and find a love that appreciates all the amazing things about you that I could not. I will never hurt you again, and I promise to always watch over you. Just please, remember me the way I used to be. Remember all the good times we had and all the love we shared. I am eternally sorry, my beautiful love. I will understand if you can’t forgive me, but I will love you forever.- Amil
The note dropped from Ali’s fingers as she stood in paralyzing disbelief over what she had read. Her eyes shook and a deluge of tears began to wash down her face. She screamed for Amil as she frantically scanned every room for his presence, but she was all alone within the small apartment. She ran out into the street and continued to scream for the man that she loved. It was a hopeless waste of breath, for Ali had no knowledge of Amil’s whereabouts, but this realization only fueled the desperate wailing which poured from her throat.
She fell to her knees on the pavement and hugged the rusted shaft of a lamppost. Her head leaned against the weathered metal, which was treated to the salty taste of her tears. She could feel the sunlight on her back and she could hear the sounds of traffic as cars whizzed by. She knew eyes were upon her breakdown, and Ali could sense the confusion that her actions had stirred, but all concern for the world around her had evaporated. As she stared at the cracked concrete at her knees, she could only think of Amil, and prayed for a miracle.
Blown by breeze, her hair clung to the rounded steel and a pool of mucus bubbled up in her throat. Her nose ran slowly, and the ruptured dams that doubled as her eyes were rimmed in red. Crackled squeaks left her mouth, and her entire body suffered tremors as her skin grew clammy and irritated. A busy day may have unfolded around her, but to Ali, the skinny road which supported their ancient apartment building was the sight of the end of the world.
After all the tragedy and misfortune that had found Ali in the past, she finally felt what it meant to have a broken heart. They were poor. Life was hard, but after so much time, she at last had someone who loved her wholly. Amil would never be the healthy, vibrant man he once was, but that was never what Ali truly desired. All she ever wanted, all she ever needed, was his unfiltered love, and, thanks to a grisly car accident, that’s exactly what she had. In an instant, it all stood in peril of being ripped away. Once she had cried herself into near dehydration with her arms flung around that metal pole, Ali felt as the biggest part of her dropped out of her being and died upon the dirty surface of the sidewalk.
“Don’t leave me, Amil. Please don’t leave me. I love you so much,” she cried into the thin air.
Far from the loudest scream, Amil continued his march through the woods. Dressed in his favorite pair of jeans and a silk button-down shirt that he had probably only worn once before, Amil slowly stepped into the heart of this land unscathed by man. At the mercy of his disabilities, the daunting task of walking through town and hiking into the seclusion of nature felt difficult enough a chore to rob him of life. Perhaps it would, then, and this laborious jaunt would spare the gun in his pocket from its intended purpose.
But amid muscle aches and heavy breathing, Amil lived. Once he came to a place where he was sure that no one would wander into, he threw his cane aside and dropped to the soft earth below. He sat under the shade of the woods and rested his back against a tree stump, hollowed out and rotten. He looked around, and was touched by the purity of the natural world. There was color, sunlight and shadow, and the air was full of sound. Insects chirped, leaves rattled in the wind, and the
commotion caused by a small animal too quick to sight could be heard.
Amil took a handful of dirt and held it in his palm. As he spread his fingers, he watched as the soil fell back down and blended in with the rest of the earth. It was there, and then it was gone. His act was insignificant, and the world would continue on, completely unaware of this mild disturbance to its face. It made Amil think of his own life. He was like the dirt, and soon, he would be the dirt.
That was where he belonged, there among the worms and the decay, that’s how Amil saw it. It was time. Time to finish the job that the bus had started, and time to finally lay down the shame that hung so heavy around his neck. It was time to free Ali of her obligation to look after an abusive cripple, and it was time to spare the world another day in the useless life of Amil Young. With a pure-hearted prayer to Ali calmly uttered from his lips, Amil stuck the gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger.
Chapter 2 - The end has only just begun
Part 1. Taken away
Although it had rained for the better part of two weeks, the day was bright and the sky held white smears of clouds amongst its brilliant blue body. Small puddles spotted the ground and the whole of the woods glistened due to the cooperation of sun and water. The abundance of spring brought color back to the earth and new blossoms hung from the trees. But something was amiss. Something terrible, flung beyond the most tortured corners of creation, brought its influence to the woods that held Amil’s corpse.
Not a noise could be heard, and not a motion was made. The insects froze their chatter, and small mammals, which normally drench the woods in a bouquet of sound, had all hidden themselves away. The wind died off, and as water droplets fell from the leaves above, the splashes they made were muted. The trees stared straight ahead and their roots tensed with unease as they lay under the soil. All life held its collective breath as death paid a visit to the fen.
Wrapped in an evening dress as black as the most moonless night, a gorgeous woman trod over to where Amil Young’s body lay, drained and still. She had a complexion of the whitest shade of gray, and her hair, long and curled at its tips, was the color of snow. As she walked barefoot upon the soil, the grass below her step uprooted itself and died in dry piles of burnt yellow fibers. The water that touched her skin turned acidic and black. Every tiny organism held within the shallow pools blinked out of existence. She ran her thin fingers through a patch of shrubs as she continued on, and behind the trail of her hand, the stems shed their leaves and turned to ash before falling to the ground below.
She knelt by Amil’s side, and, as her knees pressed into the wetted earth, the soil screamed under the weight of her affliction. She cradled him in her arms and swept her gaze over the latest victim soon to be woven into her tapestry of oblivion. After this brief observance, and without a moment’s thought to the life this body once held, she withdrew a small blade from between her breasts.
She lifted the chain from off her neck and brought the insidious charm that it held to the skin of Amil’s forehead. As it hovered above him, the blade shimmered with a silver gleam, but its body was ephemeral and shifted within the rigid stillness of the air. With a call near indiscernible to the ears of any living being, the weapon seemed to howl with the voices of all those who had previously felt its touch. As with any well-kept blade, it gleamed like a mirror, but what it shot back was not the resemblance of its master. Instead, the shine of the dagger appeared to house the afflicted faces of the innumerable dead. Once the tip had touched Amil’s skin, however, the knife solidified, and it cut though bone and muscle as though they possessed a constitution no stronger than that of oxygen.
Once he had been slit from face to groin, the abyssic creature slid her fingers between the narrow slice and tore Amil open at the chest. The usual and expected contents spilled forth from her carving. A pair of empty lungs, a liver, a couple of kidneys, an entanglement of intestines, and a deadened heart, but she had not come for the likes of bloodied entrails. She reached her hands deep into the human cavity, but also into another, more mysterious, plane of existence, and pulled forth the intangible prize which she sought to collect. From within himself, a spectral rendition of Amil was dragged forth and into the light of day. This paranormal duplicate lay as motionless as its twin, but unlike the cooling body of its inspiration, this creation would be granted no rest or reprieve from the savagery of existence.
Still upon her knees, the macabre female solemnly looked to the sky above. Once the sun felt the bitter accusation of her glare, it darted behind a patch of clouds and left the scene in absolute shade. She growled at the vastness of the heavens above, and then slid the fingers of her left hand through the damp soil. Her long nails scraped the aether of the underworld and returned with a corroded and tangled length of chain. She fastened the rusted links around the neck of her ghoulish catch like a choker, and pulled the slack tight by means of a violent twist of her forearm.
She rose to her feet, and with her free hand, she slashed at the empty air. Her nails cut a jagged slice into the nothingness, and caused an impossible fissure to appear. As reality lay cleaved, each side of the cut flapped with the rage of hurricane wind as the diseased air of all things dead and decayed exhaled forth. She stepped into this swirled, grayish haze of death, and dragged Amil across the boundary that had been carved. The chasm closed, and all trace of the hellish vision and her prey vanished completely. As the world was again freed of her oppression, the sounds of life returned to the woods. All that was left behind was a dead body, with nothing more than a bullet wound through the back of the skull.
Part 2. A land forsaken
Amil awoke, unaware of his whereabouts or of the actions of his last day on earth. He was face down in a dusty field that lay barren and cold under the watch of a darkened sky filled with fattened and bruised clouds. He rolled onto his side and glimpsed this foreign land. It was of the bleakest condition. The ground was cracked and the soil was brittle from a total absence of water. Not a tree grew, nor did any plant, hedgerow, or weed. An immaculate nothingness spread itself out to the horizon of evermore, as all opportunities for life had been starved to extinction long ago.
As he brought himself to his feet, Amil felt around the back of his head and touched the opening that the bullet had so crudely crafted. It was then that he remembered his own suicide. With disbelief, and a fright never before experienced, he turned his vision around this strange setting. Everything remained unchanged, no matter the direction to which he cast his eyes. This jejune pasture looked as though it could stretch on until the end of all time. And that’s when it occurred to Amil that perhaps, indeed, he had found himself placed at the end of time itself.
He stood tiny and seemingly forgotten among the silent abandonment. The dark air was cold as it surrounded him, and, with nothing to do but take the first step into a decayed eternity, he began to walk. Direction and destination had lost all meaning. Amil simply continued to place one foot before the other upon this repetitive world of disintegration. The color of the sky never changed, and there was no dawn or dusk to be found. The landscape was gripped by ruin, locked in an interminable circle of despair.
Fatigue never found Amil, yet he felt pain. His muscles begged for mercy, but his legs still carried him. He could feel as sweat left his skin, but to his own touch, the body was dry. He wanted to rest. He felt as though he should, but, like a marionette, he was strung along to a place unknown. He walked for what felt like days, although that measure of time failed to serve any purpose in this place of perpetual extinction. He could have put hundreds of miles behind him, or perhaps the same route was lapped over and over again upon a tiny sphere of uniform decay.
As he cried out into the indifferent sky for his legs to drop him and allow for a moment’s rest, Amil pondered the condition of his new-found existence. It then occurred to him that maybe this was his punishment for the failures of the past. To wander the same bleak area with nothing to keep him warm but the memories of all his earthly
regrets. Like the raising of a feckless shield before an enemy too mighty to deflect, he closed his eyes for want of something different to look at, and for a respite from the sorrowful land around him. It was just for a moment, an exaggerated blink, but in that instant, everything changed. When his lids ascended, a structure of menacing proportions stood before him in an advanced state of dereliction.
An imposing iron fence stretched the breadth of the land. As it spread, the barrier undulated in a formation that offered spiked rods and other ornamental works of steel to the bellies of the clouds above. A deadened weave of ivy crawled around every bar and post in a brown, flaky webbing of rot. The harsh touch of unsettled weather, long since gone, seemed to have rounded the finer points of the metal creation. All of the bars, once so obviously ornate and meticulously decorated with the most elaborate of details, ran tightly together in a bent collection of rust. This made the many posts appear to be a massive set of teeth. Crooked and smashed into the ground, smeared in a reddish plaque.
At the center of the crafted steel arrangement, an enormous wound lay exposed. The entrance gate, which once mightily served to unite the fence, had collapsed, dissolved into a forgotten obscurity eons before. As he continued to walk toward the mammoth barrier, it only seemed to grow larger and more decrepit. Once he had reached the threshold, Amil stopped. Or, rather, he was permitted to stop by forces far greater than he. He stared into the territory that was shielded behind the fence and contemplated the necessity of cordoning off such a place. It was cruelly besieged by misery in equal measure to the land that lay at his back.
A road of splintered brick, as wide as life was long, appeared under his feet and flowed into the dismal horizon. The stones were jagged, lifted, and disturbed by the unease of the soil as it had shifted with time. Every crack in every rock, like an entanglement of varicose veins upon the skin of an aged giant, was the home to rank soil and a low and brown-shaded grass.