Trainwreck
Waking
I've been sitting here for Lord knows how long, cradling Cassandra's head in my lap. Ten minutes, a half hour, two hours, I don't know. I just know that I dialed 911 a long time ago.
I'm just praying to God that this is just another one of my nightmares and that I'll wake up and Cassandra will be lying next to me, the morning sunlight dancing on her cheeks as she asks me what I want to do for the day.
And that's when it really hits me.
I am going to go on with life. Age, get old. Without her. I wanted Cassandra by my side, we wanted to die in each other's arms, be buried in the same grave.
And that, that is when I lose it.
I lay Cassandra's head back on the pillow and make my way into the bathroom. My reflection to me looks hideous. All along the sink are bottles of Cassandra's perfume. All accumulated from shopping trips, anniversary gifts, birthday gifts, and just about every other type of celebration. Cassandra loved perfume. But no matter what perfume she was wearing or what scent of Herbal Essences she had used to wash her hair, she always managed to smell like fresh apples.
I grab a bottle of Midnight Poison and quickly look it over before throwing it against the wall, watching the liquid drip steadily down the wallpaper. I grab another, Rapture this time, from our two year anniversary, and smash it right beside the Midnight Poison.
Bottle after bottle of scents. Cassandra's scents. I can hear the ambulance sirens now. I continue smashing the bottles nonetheless, until my arms grow tired and sore and I slump down on the floor, my body shutting down in a pool of perfume.
I can hear the footsteps now, hurrying up the stairs. What will they find? The former lover/husband and the wife of a trainwreck just waiting to happen.
I'm just praying to God that this is just another one of my nightmares and that I'll wake up and Cassandra will be lying next to me, the morning sunlight dancing on her cheeks as she asks me what I want to do for the day.
And that's when it really hits me.
I am going to go on with life. Age, get old. Without her. I wanted Cassandra by my side, we wanted to die in each other's arms, be buried in the same grave.
And that, that is when I lose it.
I lay Cassandra's head back on the pillow and make my way into the bathroom. My reflection to me looks hideous. All along the sink are bottles of Cassandra's perfume. All accumulated from shopping trips, anniversary gifts, birthday gifts, and just about every other type of celebration. Cassandra loved perfume. But no matter what perfume she was wearing or what scent of Herbal Essences she had used to wash her hair, she always managed to smell like fresh apples.
I grab a bottle of Midnight Poison and quickly look it over before throwing it against the wall, watching the liquid drip steadily down the wallpaper. I grab another, Rapture this time, from our two year anniversary, and smash it right beside the Midnight Poison.
Bottle after bottle of scents. Cassandra's scents. I can hear the ambulance sirens now. I continue smashing the bottles nonetheless, until my arms grow tired and sore and I slump down on the floor, my body shutting down in a pool of perfume.
I can hear the footsteps now, hurrying up the stairs. What will they find? The former lover/husband and the wife of a trainwreck just waiting to happen.