Ladybug [h.s.]

22

Harry

~~~~~~~~

I always figured if I were to die young, it would be from a car crash. 

Some god with a sense of humor. Planning out my demise to parallel the tragic existence I lived on earth. Collecting my fears and molding them into the perfect conclusion. Climax of the story dropping harshly down the other side of the cliff.

I've always been afraid of death, of dying. Before my parents were killed, and definitely after. Something in the unknown unleashing an endless sea of turmoil and fear. What comes after? What comes before? How do you know the moment you're going to die? Does it hit instantaneously, or is it a gradual fall? Sliding helplessly down the mountainside toward the inevitable collision at the end.

There's no way of knowing until it's too late to share. Last breaths melting away into nothingness. Conscious souls still lingering within the atmosphere. Or, maybe they're not. Maybe everything we are; everything we've ever been, seizes up and fades away in that exact transition from life into death.

I was always so scared because I didn't know what to expect. Would I be reunited with my parents? If I wasn't, I don't know what'd I do, having lived eons of a life knowing, just knowing, that I would meet up with them again. One day. That dying wouldn't be so bad, because I'd reopen my eyes to see my mom's warm smile staring back at me. So, what would I do if I passed over and saw blackness? Or, worse, everyone but my parents. What if I was in Hell and they were in Heaven? What if I was in Heaven and they were in Hell? That one was a reality I knew was never possible; not when Mom was so goddamn angelic earthside.

There's only one time in my life that I thought I was going to die, exactly three months after Mom and Dad did. It was the scariest night of my life before tonight, whether due to a fear of dying, or a fear of the pain, I'm not sure. Tonight is fear of losing Delilah again.

That night, I had snuck out of Jack's place, walked to the park, and laid in the grass to watch the trains pass. Caught up somewhere in my head about where they might be. Some kind of heaven, or hell, or afterlife. I had fallen asleep with tears painting delicate rivers down toward my ears, begging whoever was listening to let me see them. I'd gotten jumped, half out of sleep in the middle of the night, the guys coming with blades until they were satisfied with me. I promised myself I'd never wish to see them ever again.

As I left Delilah's, I broke that promise. I was hurt, and everything felt wrong, and empty, and I knew that if Mom was here she'd be able to fix it. Fix everything. Me, and Delilah, and the fracture threatening to shatter our relationship. I knew she'd be able to. I missed her. I just wanted a hug. That's all I wanted.

Even in the heat of the moment - even with the words spitting out like fire from my lungs, I just...knew...that Delilah would say it back. I was so painfully confident that she would tell me she loved me back. And, maybe that would've made it all okay. Maybe knowing that, hearing that, would have taken away the pain of being hidden. I could accept the closed doors if I knew she wanted me behind them with her. Or maybe they would've changed nothing. Maybe that would've only added fuel to the flame.

I heard her tears before they even came - could feel the damp line below her eyes without even touching her. She looked breathtaking, so broken like that. I wanted so badly to help. To reach out and put her pieces back together. To play the superhero and, maybe, finally, win the girl. But you can only do so much when you're broken down yourself. So I turned, pretended to look beyond her brokenness to find my own underneath. And I held onto it and walked out. Something greater than thankful that she was able to hold her tears until I was gone. Selfish. And failing desperately.