A Jog

First, I feel the blade move through skin in the most satisfying way possible, and the familiar trickle of warm blood down my hands. Then the steely stench of blood takes over as I move out of the room in calculated, practiced steps.

Step over the body, through the window, and out into the darkness.

I hear the sirens behind me, and smile to myself. Nothing like a good chase. Can’t help but love the occasional thrill. Most of the time, I get away even before they sense there’s something wrong going on.

“Hey, you there! Stop!” I roll my eyes. As if I would, even if my life depended on it. I chuckle to myself.

Sometimes I’m so funny.

Kicking up dirt, I power up with every step I take, taking in the thrill of it. And then the unexpected happens.

My legs get caught on a wine and I trip, tumbling over. Something sharp pierces through my ankle, sending pain shooting up my leg. Now, I panic. All the arrogance in me has vanished, leaving me

scrambling to get up. I fumble in the darkness, cursing myself for choosing such a time for a kill. And I didn’t even get the time to rob him! “Stop right there or we shoot!” the cops yell behind me. Cursing, I sprint through the woods. I can’t even feel my right leg anymore, for gods sake! Leave me alone! Hoping it isn’t something too serious, I shoot a look at it, instantly regretting it. My jeans were stained red, the blood dripping into my converse.

"Leave me alone!” I yell over my back, “I’m innocent!” “I’ll show you who’s innocent, alright!” he yells back, hot on my heels.

I can almost feel his breath on my neck, his hand grabbing at my hair. And then even as I tumble to the ground, I know.

I know that I’d be caught, and there would be no escape.

***

I stop in my tracks, never seen something so strange, yet beautiful in my life. The way his already messed up hair ruffled up even more with his every move, the way his one-sided smile made my heart skip a beat, it all fascinated me. I watch him as he makes his way towards me, my palms growing sweaty by the second. Do I tell ‘hi’? Do I just ignore him, hoping he would fall for me?

Finally, I just look into those beautiful dark eyes one last time, knowing that we would never meet again, knowing that he wouldn’t look my way, even if I would call out his name.

And just like that, he strides right by me, his shoulders bumping mine, as I lose balance and trip.

I didn’t know if it was intentional or not, but it was just perfect.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry!” he exclaims, bending down to help me up. I grab hold of his outstretched hand, feeling how warm it was. I get up, dusting myself.

“Yours hands so cold,” he states. I pull my hand out of his, suddenly insecure. “Yeah,” I mutter, rubbing them together with a smile “mind warming them up?”

He blushes, bangs falling over his eyes as he chuckles. “Sure”

***

A month later, I’m now almost on my knees, walking behind him; begging him. “But why?” I plead with him, not knowing the reason he had so suddenly changed his mind. I felt so trodden upon, so helpless, for I stooped so low as to confront him even when I knew myself that everything was over.

“I’m sorry, I won’t repeat it again,” I say times over, feeling like the hand of a clock that has run the same rounds over and over again, like the puppets used by the puppeteer so many times for the same show, that their clothes are worn out, the ends of their embroidered frocks muddied.

He looks ahead and walks, face devoid of any emotion. Then he stops, turning around to look right into my eyes. “Because we can’t go on like this any longer,” he simply states, as if this had been on his mind all along, as if my feelings meant nothing to him, and I knew.

I knew that this was going to leave me scarred for the rest of my life.

***

My hair whipped across my face as I stand on the cliff, mind muddled with conflicting thoughts.

My mind flits to how we danced together at the open roof restaurant on my birthday, just days after we had met, back when he actually listened to what I had to say, cared about my feelings, when he paid attention to the scars on my hand.

After that I clearly remember, it started raining and though everyone else had crowded into the hotel downstairs, we were too lost in the melody, in our love that we kept moving to the music in the rain, to the beat of our hearts.

Oh, reminiscing about those days brings a familiar kind of ache, and I know.

I know that I shouldn’t be thinking about it, that I should bury it all down inside and hope I one day somehow forget it which I know I never will. That it will all one day build up to something that I think I will break out of, that I one day will gain victory over, but will end up feeling burdened about it.

And although I know I shouldn't be here, that I shouldn't be doing this, but I just can't seem to help it.

So I stand here on this cliff, contemplating what was there to lose, and what to gain from this jump.

***

I didn’t realize how fast these thoughts had gone through my mind, how within seconds, my brain had made up these scenes and snippets as I jogged after work, as I passed by that dashing boy in his Nike, as I sprinted through the forest, the music in my ears soothing than ever.

***