The Sun Set in the East

My eyes meet his. They are beautiful, deep brown, and peaceful. It was like staring down into a cup of tea after a long day. The sun highlights his beautiful eyes. The light brightens his skin and glows a lovely, bright shade of amber. The sunset makes this all so much more calming and warm. He moved his hand to mine, and I felt millions of birds flock inside my soul; it sent shivers through my body. Even after 10 years, my heart flutters for him, and only him.

"Damian, do you think we could stay here forever?" I ask while glancing back at the fading red sun.

"Of course not forever, but we could watch the sunset every evening if it would please you," Damian said softly.

"I would like that. I like to watch your eyes glow like this as the sun sets. It's beautiful. You are beautiful." After a day like that, this was just what I needed. The soft breeze blowing against our moist skin. The fading sun brushes on our skin like little kisses of light. It feels a bit different than usual. Maybe it's because I'm all flustered.

"Then we'll watch it every evening until you grow bored." He states.

"I don't know if I ever will," I mutter softly. My mind is at peace, yet there is something minuscule aching softly. Something feels strange.

On this beautiful evening, our anniversary day, we sit atop a building in Italy. Birds flock across the sky, which appears redder than usual. We watch the sunset together and feel the tingly warmth on our faces. Could I ask for any more?

"Hana?" Damian says with his deep, crisp voice. "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything you need," I say with a slight smile.

"Look at the sun." he points towards the flaming light in the sky. I stare as it dims under the horizon.

"What is it?" I say. The sky is filled with bursts of colors. Red and yellow are splattered onto the blue and purple sky.

"Keep watching," his eyes, once brightened by the sun, begin to dim as the sun sets. I return my eyes to the sun. It's dimmed enough to stare at long without my eyes burning.

The sun is just about to dip under the horizon, and stars fill the sky behind us. Right before the last flame of light is snuffed by the horizon, the deep blue sky bleeds near the light dancing upon the horizon. Red seeps into the rest of the sky like blood through a clean white shirt. The clouds disintegrate into smoke, slowly drifting towards the peak of light on the horizon. "What is going on..." I say with much concern and confusion.

I'm unsure what to do or how to feel. That aching earlier has grown, taking over my head. It's hard to think; I feel like a rubber mallet is being bounced off my head. I feel dizzy. Stress overwhelms me like a sea of wolves overtaking its prey.

I look at Damian, his eyes filled with fear. His shoulders, once relaxed, are now squeezing close to his neck, clenched tightly. His eyebrows are furrowed, and his fists have balled themselves up. "Damian?" I say.

Suddenly, he grabs my shoulders with his fingers tensing up. He looks me in the eyes and starts to speak but I can't hear him. He squeezes my shoulders to the point it hurts and he screams again and again. Yet still not a sound from him. I could tell he was loud and I could even feel the tremble in his throat. But I can't hear. It's quiet. But I can feel him. The vibrations in the air, his hands indenting my shoulders, the tears running down my face as I cry leaving a cool feeling as his breath reaches my face.

He screams one more time a loud, agonizing scream except this time I can hear it. I can hear it and it pierces through my ears. I close my eyes and put my hands to my ears and he releases his grip on me.

With my eyes glued shut, I fall and lie on my side with my hands still on my ears. I bring my knees to my chest and I twist and turn. The scream still echoed throughout my head. I twist and turn some more but I begin to feel something wrap and cover my body as I turn. I hate the feeling, what is lingering on my body? What is it? I don't want to feel anything, I don't want to be touched. The screaming stops and I quickly sit up and open my eyes pushing whatever was on me off. 

When I opened my eyes, I saw that I was covered in white sheets. They were wrapped around my legs from my violent turning. I look around more and see that I'm home in my bed.

I look around, worried for Damian, but as soon as I move I feel a huge pain in my shoulder. I quickly reach for my shoulder and pull my sleeve off, but there are no marks.

I return to looking for Damian. He wasn't in bed next to me so I continued to look around the room. I notice the light from our bathroom seeping out underneath the door so I get out of bed and walk towards the bathroom. I reach for the handle, but the door is locked, so I put my ear to the door and quietly listen. I hear Damian but he's grunting and gagging. I hear a splash in the toilet and Damian gagging and coughing. He grunts and coughs violently and I begin to feel worried about him.

I knock on the door lightly, "Damian...?" I say, "Is everything okay?" After I speak, the gagging stops. I can hear him breathing heavily, but it's hard to tell what's happening with only the muffled sound from the door.

I hear the toilet flush and the sink begins to run. "Damian? Baby?" I say. I can hear the sink stop and the door handle move as he unlocks and opens the door. I back up to give room for the door as he opens it. He walks out of the bathroom and faces me. "What happened?" I say.

"Nothing, it's fine," he says back to me.

"Well, what were you doing? Did you throw up?" I look behind him into the bathroom, the light glowing on my face.

"Yeah, but it's okay. Just a stomach ache." He says. I looked up at his eyes, there seemed to be a stillness about them. I step closer to him so my head is in his chest. He brings his hands up and puts them on my shoulders, reminding me of the painful feeling in them.

"I had a weird dream," I tell him.

"Did you?" he asks, "What happened?"

"The sky was weird and you were freaking out but I couldn't hear you."

"That does sound like a weird dream," he says, running his hands from my shoulders down my arms and into my hands. I looked up at him again, his eyes lingered on me and I felt a sense of vulnerability wash over me.

He brought his hand up to my face and caressed my cheek. His hands were cold and rough. He leans down and kisses me on the cheek, grinning. I bring my lips to his cheek and kiss it back. We stand in silence for a bit and he's looking at me. Despite his eyes looking directly at mine, it felt more like he was looking through me than at me.

After a while in silence, I break eye contact. He walks past me and goes to open the blinds. I turn around and go to sit on the bed and watch him. After lighting up the room, he goes and sits at his desk. Damian is a sketch artist and enjoys sketching. He gets commissioned a lot for tattoo ideas and usually gets a lot of money for doing so.

I work as a psychologist, so during the day, I leave for work while Damian stays behind and sketches for his clients. Damian opens his drawer and takes out a fancy-looking pencil with a strange design on it. I walk over to his desk and lean over his shoulder as he gets out his sketch pad.

"Where'd you get that pencil?" I ask him. "Is it new?"

"It's not new. I've had this for a while." he says.

"Can I see it?"

"No. I'm busy." He says.

"Uhm, I can't look at it for a second, then?"

"No, Hana. No means no." He says and begins to sketch something out.

"Okay," I say, a little taken aback. "Well I'm going to go make something to eat, do you want anything?" He doesn't answer me and continues to draw. I tap on his shoulder to get his attention.

"Huh?" he says.

"Do you want something to eat?" I ask again.

"No. I'm okay," he pauses for a bit thinking about his answer before he says, "Thank you, though." I smile at him before leaving the room.

I head to the kitchen and begin to make a turkey and cheese sandwich. I grab a knife and cut the sandwich into rectangles. I pick up the plate and head back to our room. I reach for the door handle and grab and twist it but it doesn't open. It's locked.

"Damian? Are you in there?" I receive no response. "Damian?" I say again.

I jiggle the knob to try and get the door open. I knock on the door to get Damian's attention. I start to feel panicked when he still doesn't respond. I head back to the kitchen and place the plates on the counter. I open the junk drawer and search for the key to our bedroom. I find it and speed walk back to our room. I unlock the door and break inside of the room ready to yell at Damian for playing a prank on me like that.

I walk in and look around for Damian but he isn't in there. I look at his desk and his sketchbook is lying there. His pencil is missing and the bathroom door is shut and locked. I knock on the door and call out for Damian. No answer. I can hear him shuffling around though. I decided to wait outside on the bed for him.

Eventually, he came out of the bathroom and saw me sitting on the bed. He had his pencil in his hand and he smelt like smoke. "What's up with you?" I ask him.

"Nothing, Hana." he said.

"Why do you smell like smoke?" He shrugged and walked back to his desk. He opened his sketchbook and began to sketch again. "Why was the door locked?"

"Just wanted some privacy. I need to concentrate."

"Don't do it again, then. You freaked me out." He looked back at me and scooted out of his desk, his pencil still in his hand. There were marks on his hands with a layer of graphite over it. "What happened to your hand?"

"Accident." I stood up and walked over to him. I reached for his hands but he quickly pulled the hand with the pencil in it away.

"Damian, is something up? Seriously, you've been acting really weird all day. I'm starting to think you're losing feelings for me." He looked down at his feet for a second, thinking.

"I don't know what to say, Hana, I've been acting the same." After he said this, I felt a rush of disappointment rush over me. I knew something was up. I glanced over at his sketchbook page and it seemed to be covered with words. It was hard to make out the scribble of words but it looked like it said "It's not". What does that mean? Underneath those words, there was a giant circle with what appeared to be the start of a sun.

"What're you drawing?" I asked. He quickly looked over at his paper and closed his sketchbook.

"Nothing, just a tattoo design. I got frustrated that's all." I have a bad feeling in my chest and his words don't seem to do it for me. I quickly grabbed his sketchbook and ran to the bathroom. I locked myself inside and opened the page with the sun on it. I flip through his sketchbook and it's just page after page of attempted suns with the words "It's not" written over it before it finishes. The weirdest part is that the unfinished sun is connected to the scribble of words.

While I'm in the bathroom, Damian is banging on the door, his voice is a completely different tone as he screams at me.

"Hana! Hana, I swear to God let me inside. You will regret this Hana. Don't do this to yourself." he yells.

The noise overwhelms me and I begin to cry, scared to exit the bathroom. Where was my sweet boy? I stand up and look in the mirror of the bathroom. Damian has stopped banging on the door and he's no longer screaming. I can hear him rummaging around outside. The key. I think to myself. He must be looking for the key.

I fall to the floor and wait for him to break inside. I'm scared to leave the bathroom and I'm scared for him to come inside. He hasn't been himself so who knows what he would do. I hear him begin to put the key in the doorknob. Just as the doorknob turns and he gets the door open I hear him scream.

His scream brings me back to the dream I had. His agonizing scream rings through my ears as it did before. As it does I'm reminded of his silent scream desperately trying to tell me something. This time, however, I can hear it. Faintly underneath his scream, I can hear his words.

"It's not me." I can hear him ever so faintly say. "It's not me." he says again and again. Suddenly it begins to make sense. He hasn't felt the same. He hasn't acted the same. The way he looks at me now it's how it has been before. There isn't love in his eyes or his voice or his actions. His cold rough hands, his monotonous voice, his lightless eyes, thoughtless actions, everything he's done to this point. That wasn't my Damian. Why couldn't I see it? Before he breaks in I reach into the bathroom drawer and grab a pair of scissors. I slip it between the pages of the sketchbook as I hold it slightly behind me so he won't notice.

He breaks the door open and can tell in my eyes that I know it isn't him. That I know he's not mine. He's somebody else. Something else. His hand is bleeding and there's blood on the pencil he's been protecting dearly. I try to think of anything I could do right now to avoid dying. Anything I could do to bring Damian back. There's nothing I can do right now.

If I had time I could maybe think of a way I could save him and bring back my Damian. If I just knew before. But that's not Damian anymore. And I know what I have to do.

"Hana," He says, "What have you done?"

"Do not say my name," I say with destain in my voice. "don't talk to me like that, like you know me. You don't know me. I don't even know you. I don't know what you are or what you've done with Damian." He walks close to me, his dear pencil in hand, moving me closer to the sink.

"Fine. I'm not Damian," he says

.

"I don't care, I already know that," I say as I stare into his eyes, a feeling of conflicted hate feels my voice as I stare at the body of my husband. "Why did you do this? Why would you take away my husband?" My voice trembles as tears fill my eyes. The thought finally settled in. Damian is gone. My life, my love, my everything. He's just gone. My eyes flood with tears as he looks down at me with pity in his eyes.

"You should be less concerned about him and more about what may happen to you."

"What do you mean?"

"I'll have to kill you and find someone else to use."

"Use for what?"

"That's not your business," He says. "What I'm wondering is if I should kill you now or after."

"After what?" He smirked after I said that. He inched closer to pushing me up against the sink. He looked me in the eyes and I began to cry harder, shaking my head and tightening my grip around the sketchbook. I put my finger in the hole of the scissors preparing to do what I have to.

I have to do this now. I have to or I'll die too and he'll just hurt other people. Damian is already gone. This isn't him. I'll never have my Damian again.

I quickly let go of the sketchbook and plunged the scissors into his chest. He stops moving and stands there for a second. His blood slowly flowed onto the scissors and to my hand. He drops to the floor and I fall with him. He drops the pencil and it slowly turns to dust.

"I'm sorry," I muttered. "I wish I still had you." I look into Damian's eyes and they begin to change. It wasn't evil anymore. It was a faint sign of life looking into my eyes. I begin to cry watching the life fade from him. Just before the life in his eyes was snuffed out, his lips began to move. It was quiet but his words left me lifeless.

"It's me, Hana."