Running Away Doesn't Solve Any Problems

Hailing a taxi seems like an easy job to do which in a way it is; as long as you know how to whistle the loudest and know how to shove your way through people. Which from the look of a middle aged man throwing his fist in the air and cursing profanities as the taxi drove away I guess one could say that he didn’t like being shoved. Oh well...first in first served.
My gaze was currently staring out of the taxi window watching the streets pass by. As my first time overseas to America I was fascinated at the scenery that was now my new home. Thinking that my thoughts travel back to my original and only home located in Sydney Australia where I had family that loved me and a job I loved, and I even had a loving boyfriend. Thinking of him an unwanted tear rolls down the side of my face. Tarak.... Such a unique name for a unique male that had made my heart melt and my knees weak, he was my whole world just like I was his. He was taken from this earth far too soon....
Shaking my head of that thought I will it away and any other thoughts regarding my old home or why I have taken this journey across the seas. Now was not the time to dwell on the past but to focus on the future no matter how hard forgetting the past may be.
Round an hour later the taxi stopped outside an apartment complex. It was actually dumb luck that I found an available apartment on such short notice but I guess luck was on my side which I am thankful for. Thanking the driver and gathering my luggage before paying the man I made my way inside the building up the many stairs coming to a stop on the fourth level outside room 409.
The room was pretty simple. As soon as you walked in you entered the living room that connected to the small kitchen, if you continued through the living room you would come across a small hallway that leads to the bathroom and the bedroom. Basically a perfectly suitable apartment for one person, I couldn’t ask for anything better.
Rubbing my eyes with a yawn escaping my lips my luggage is soon forgotten along with anything else in the apartment with sleep being the only thing on my mind. A 17 hour flight into a different time zone takes a lot out of a person which was why the bitch of that experience had a name, and that name was jet lag. Literally falling onto the couch my eyes close automatically as soon as my head hits the cushion sending my body into dark obis.
(Dream)
Darkness was all my eyes could see. Darkness and the metallic taste and feel of blood. The contrast in colour of the blood that covered my hands stained my clothes and left a wafting scent in the air that was noticeable in the clean air of the night.
Screaming...someone screams...a high pitched scream as if someone were in fright or fear of something or someone.
A dry sob is torn from my lips as it was then that realisation kicks in of me being the one producing the scream. Knees grown weak unable to hold my weight in this given moment so I collapse onto the ground.
A bloody hand reaches for my mouth as my head shakes back and forth in disbelief of the scene before me.
A male lays on the ground in front of my fallen form clutching his side in agony; his gaze is drawn to mine revealing his pain stricken eyes. His arm reaches toward me and my brain doesn’t hesitate to obey the silent plea as my arm reaches to grasp his hand in return, clutching it for dear life trying to hold the life form of the male before me, holding him to me as if that would keep him by my side.

“Layla” His lips peel back to form words as my neck cranes itself closer to him mouth struggling to hear what was spoken. “I...love you....” The words were whispered in a last breath of air, my eyes witnessed the light go from his eyes knowing he was gone.
Bending my head toward his my lips cover his own in a last parting goodbye. His hand loosens its grip on mine as it falls to the ground.
Tears flow freely from my eyes in that moment as I stayed by the side of my loved one having just witnessed his all too early death...