Her Darkness

The pills rattle against the old wooden floorboards. The monotonous sound of the train on its tracks making the whole building shake. Outside, a dim streetlight illuminated the room just barely. Broken frames and lamps lay on the floor, where they had been for days. Where they had been since this all started. It had been almost a week since you came home in a frenzy. When you began throwing anything you could get your hands on, letting it crash against the wall. The sound of your screaming amongst the shattering glass filled the apartment. Tears poured down your face, your cheeks red and puffy. Muttering unintelligible things, you began pacing the room, not caring about the shards of glass slicing the flesh of your feet. You began running your fingers through your hair. Soon, pulling and tearing the strands out your head. Now, you sat in silence surrounded by your demons. With your arms wrapped tightly around your knees, you listened to the silence. Your eyes burned and your throat was scratchy. How could you have come to this? How could you succumb to the thoughts that kept you awake in the dark? The train's whistle echoed in the darkness. Finally, a deep, resonating sigh escaped your parted lips. Hands coming to rub your face, you fell back slowly onto the bed you sat upon. You let the darkness take over once again.

It was shortly after you fell asleep that he entered the room. He hid in the shadows, waiting for the day you would finally be his. He watches you, his favorite entertainment, his own personal show. He creeps towards your sleeping figure quietly, ghosting a hand over your cheek. His eyes finally part from you to scan the room. It is not an unfamiliar sight. He has watched you battle yourself for years, now. When his obsession with you began? That, he did not know.

You stirred in your sleep, banishing him once again to the shadows of your room. But, he knew that soon, it would be your time together. The more you lost yourself in the darkness of your mind, the closer you became to being with him.

She didn't know this, of course. His existence was unknown to her. He only lurked in the shadows, not daring to come close. Throughout her long, heavy days, he was there. But, she didn't know it. He watched her from afar, knowing that they couldn't be together just yet.

Her days droned on for days, to months, to years. All along he watched her. Watched her cry and scream at night. watched her blood drip down her arm while she watched with tearful eyes and knife in hand. Her existence felt like a constant fight, a nagging in the back of her head terrorizing her everyday. She never allowed anyone to come close, unknowingly saving herself for him. He loved it. Her appearance began to dwindle, eyes sinking in, bones jutting out. To him, however, she was only becoming more painstakingly beautiful. The dead look in her eyes captivated him, even from afar. He saw what lay behind it all. Day in and day out she exhausted herself with empathy for others. She felt for others as if it were her own wounds. She spent all time being a caretaker for other people. He saw this from her everyday, without fail.

She was the type of woman men dreamed about. But, the men who lay in her bed took advantage of her sensitivities. To this, he turned a blind eye, knowing he would be able to take away all her pains one day. Though, he saw her struggle after they left. Every time, he saw her heart break a little more. And, though this saddened him, he knew that it shortened the invisible string tying them together.

She struggled on. Life's constant beatings weighing her down. The mask she wore in public began breaking. The perfect smile, the flowing hair that cascaded down her back all faded away. At night was when she began the fight. The fight to continue on another day. She debated pulling out her father's old pistol she kept in her desk, loaded. Some nights, she would go so far as to take it out, turning it over and over in her hands. Her face had become permanently stained with tears, eyes constantly red and swollen. She knew the end was growing near.

He began growing impatient. She was so close to him he could almost reach out and touch her. He fought every impulse in him to grab her and bring her home with him. But, once she went with him there was no going back, and this he knew. So, he had to wait just a little longer, until she was ready.

He knew something had changed when he saw her that morning. Her eyes were bloodshot, but for the first time in months, not leaking tears.

She had brushed her hair as well, the bushy mess finally combed out after weeks of abandonment. Her clothes were no longer crumpled, instead picked out and ironed with precision. She had spent the night cleaning her apartment from top to bottom with nothing but the silence and occasional train horn. The sun had crept up on her as she fixed her makeup and hair as she took one last look in the mirror.

As she took step after step to the desk drawer, he took one step closer to her. She could hear her blood pumping in her ears, a bead of sweat forming on her top lip. As her shaky hand raised the gun, his reached out for her shoulder. As he touched her shoulder, the shot rang out through the apartment building.

She turned around at the feeling of his hand on her shoulder. Finally, she saw him for the first time.

"Hello, my dear," he spoke, lowly, reaching a hand out to touch her cheek. She leaned into his touch as a single tear fell from her lashes onto his hand.

"Who are you?" She whispered.

"I am your forever. I am your peace. I am Death."