Edge Of Nowhere

The path was narrow and plain, but it was endless. A man with grey, hollow eyes peered out at the scenery in front of him, which was barely much. It stretched far beyond what the eye could see, and even farther beyond a nonexistent world. He let out a sigh, as he mourned his loss, the ghost of a memory still continuing to fade in his mind, but caused him great sorrow nonetheless. A burden greater than the devil’s weighted him down, making his forehead crease in pain as he winced with each step he took.

Nothing seemed to have changed. Even if it did, he didn’t know it, for the scenery remained the same, faded, washed-out gray. If heaven was lively and vibrant; if it really was brilliant and full of color, then maybe he had been wrong.

It was a lackluster place, fitted for a lackluster man. It would have been everything then; a secluded, reserved place rid of worries and tasks, just for him. It would‘ve.

Now loneliness slowly ate at him, devouring the little flickering soul that once rested within the hollow shell he called his body. It was slowly diminishing, but he held onto every wisp of it, clinging onto it with all his might.

Mailyn.

There was a time when that name would make him shiver, both in delight and confusion. Delighted that it felt so right to say it; confused as to why he felt this way. Happiness was always inches away from him, but he frequently forgot to reach out, and to grasp onto it in the palms of his hands.

Maybe that’s why she slipped away.

-

Hands frigid and cold embraced his own, as he stared into the baby blue eyes of the person he had loved so dearly. She whispered something barely audible in his ears, and he did the same, giving her a witty remark. She chuckled, the sound like the rushing of wind on a chilly winter morning, but her breath on him was warm, heating him up to the very core. The bench was a private place, just for the two of them, and held memorable memories that were inked into his mind. Mailyn never questioned the things he did, and in return, he did the same. A trust so strong and irreplaceable was formed, making them closer than ever, and almost inseparable.

But she was the master of illusions. She could make a heart beat faster with just a casual smile, and make someone fall so deeply with just a quick glance.

Irreplaceable.

That it really was. Once it was broken, there was nothing left. Shattered pieces of what remained were scattered across his memory, one cutting him and making a scar so deep that the wound forever remained.

She made breaking hearts look so easy.

She was a rose, so beautiful to look at, and so breathtaking to behold. Her thorns made her fierce, intimidating, but that just added to the beauty. Only when someone tried to hold her, to grab onto her, did they bleed. Nothing could make her happy. He knew he never would.

The small hope was still there though. It never went away: it bothered him, taunted him. So when others eventually gave up, he was still standing below her window, persistent and stubborn.

He knew she admired his determination, and loved, even craved the way he gazed at her so lovingly.

But she never lovedhim.

-

The path was deserted, with no one in sight. He knew he was most likely the only thing there, other than the cursed path. In life he had goals; he had ambitions.

There were things worth living for, things he strived for and wished to accomplish. Taking another step would be meaningless, for he was still at the same place he was a step ago. Here there was nothing, nothing at all that provided motivation for that extra step.

Imagine walking down a road that you must walk down for the rest of your life. No stops, and no need for food or comfort; just walk. The dull landscape never changes, and everything looks identical to how it looked an hour ago in your mind. How great your boredom would become, and great your hunger for something else would suffocate you.

He knew this feeling all too well.

He looked below the floating path of nowhere, to find clouds hovering below it, and nothing else. A wooden bench with a little roof was soon in view, and it reminded him of one of those resting places in the country. The breeze was there, but it was never felt, it just rustled the grass lightly. Surprised to find the bench, he edged closer to it, unsure if it was just merely a hallucination. It was definitely a possibility now. The smooth, tangible surface of the bench was enough to prove to him how real it was. The place seemed to serve no other purpose, other than a resting area for anyone who happened to wander by. He knew he would be the first person to rest there, and also the last.

In nowhere you don’t get tired. You don’t need a resting spot - you just want to be anywhere but there. For the first time, he smiled as he gazed nostalgically at the bench. Memories rushed back to him like a crashing wave, cold and sudden; so quick that it was gone in a flash, leaving a poor, drowned body in it’s place. The feel of the worn-out wood from underneath his fingers made him sigh. How could such a place exist? Maybe he was only lost in a corner of his dark, useless mind. Maybe he was trapped, and it was all because of the guilt that drove him to insanity.

-

Mailyn couldn’t be tied down. At least not with the weak rope he had created out of desperation. Drastic measures were locking her in, confining her to a windowless, gloomy room. Sure it wasn’t legal; it wasn’t like she resisted. Deep down, he knew what she was thinking, and he knew what a mess he had created. Unrequited love was the worst kind, especially when the other decides to fake it; decides that if they pretended, it would hurt less.

She cared for him; there was no doubt about that. He did the same, but with more passion then she could ever have imagined. Once she grew tired of her safe room, she began to venture out. She grew braver. She grew stronger. More reckless, and so she fell in love.

Love. How the word disgusted him.

The man was nothing special, not more handsome or more witty than him. But somehow, despite all that, she was drawn to him. Like he was to her. As he counted the nights she went out, the longing and the pain in him was unbearable. He knew where she went, and he knew what she was hiding. She had never acted so compulsively before. That didn‘t stop him, he continued to hang onto her feverishly, and tried to strengthen the thinning rope.

A year had gone by, and soon another. She was now binded and wrapped so tightly that she was suffocating. You couldn’t see it; it had no substance, it was just there.

He never let her forget everything they once were, and she was dying from it. In return for a place of peace, he sold his soul to the devil. Harmless it would be if he disappeared. Then only would she be free of him, be free to do what her beating heart longed for. Suspicions were easily dodged as he bought a small, concealable handgun, hidden in his waistcoat. He had no family, he had no friends. The media wouldn’t waste their time on such a boring death for a boring person.

He opened and turned the doorknob slowly, knowing that she’d be out at the time. She always was, especially at night, to meet her mysterious suitor. Lies were what corrupted him to do such a thing. Lies and her.

His note was tucked safely on the counter, to make sure she understood everything, and understood his reasons. Frantic, he remembered not seeing it there when he arrived. The doorknob was now staying tight; the door not budging. Scared, he pounded his fists on it, and eventually kicked it with all his might. The square structure collapsed with a loud noise as it hit the ground. Ignoring the swelling in his foot, and the unbelievable amount of pain that came with it, he entered the room.

His breath got caught in his throat as he looked around, and a buzzing in his ears made him stumble, unsure if he was imagining the scene in front of him. He let out a cry, as he opened his eyes and came to the conclusion that it was real. He ran forward almost like a madman, his breathing now loud and the beating of his heart now irregular. If only she wasn't a kind person. If only she valued herself a little more -- then maybe it would've turned out differently.

Hysteria took over, as he gazed down at the small frame of Mailyn. His sobs escaped him, and he brushed away a strand of her hair, to reveal her lifeless eyes. She was clutching his note in her hands, tightly, but then it began to loosen. She was pale, and looked heavier, more weighed down, as if her spirit was gone. Dried tears decorated her face hauntingly, and soon his rolled down his cheeks to join hers. It had been several hours since he had left the house in the morning, for work. For some odd reason, he no longer considered them roommates, for she was barely seen in the house anymore. The shock of finding her cold body in his room almost angered him, like she was trying to prove something. A pained look was frozen on Mailyn’s face, as he searched around for the object that ended her life. A clear syringe filled with a strange liquid laid mockingly beside her. Where she had gotten the sodium thiopental he would never know, but she always had ways of getting what she wanted. He was too late; she had beaten him, and now she was hours past gone. He hugged her close to his body, the bittersweet taste of salty tears making him laugh. Pulling the gun out of his waistcoat, he pressed it firmly to his head.

He cocked the loaded gun, and put his index finger on the trigger. He gripped it tightly, and a sound like close-up fireworks exploded in his ears as he let go. Warm, sticky blood dripped down from his forehead, as emptiness took over his mind.

His last words were whispered with a smile upon his face, as he blinked back the hot liquid rushing down from his eyes.

"Did you know? We deserve this."

Painful couldn’t describe it.