No One Killed Venus Wilson

XXX. TRENTE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

THERE IS A SENSE of emptiness that engulfs a person when everything has been destroyed. Loneliness that resides within the corners of one's soul, of one's mind waiting to consume the person whole once the time is right.  It is a part of every human, some peoples' biggest fear  —  one that forces them to seek refuge in others, in hobbies, something to distract their mind from the truth.

Emptiness, loneliness, these feelings tend to become companions that last longer than relationships of any sort. Comforting people in the depths of the night, caressing their broken hearts  — letting it bleed once more like the wounds that were never healed.

Though, like any companion, over time it latches onto a person longer than it should, without knowing how to say goodbye. Soon it becomes a part of that person, an extension as if it is another limb. And like that, it fools humans to think it's something necessary to hold onto when in reality it is the one thing holding that person back.

As if it is a blindfold, it wraps itself around a person's face, covering one's eyes making them blind to any attempts loved ones take to dig them out of the hole they've dug.

"Trevor, you know you can tell me anything right?"

"Yes, Mom."

"Why have you been taking sleeping pills from the medicine cabinet?"

As if its tongue speaks only of magical spells that keep one committed to it, too afraid to let anyone in and steal the emptiness they have promised to love and cherish until death do them part.

"Kate hasn't spoken to us in weeks... do you think something happened at her friend's sleepover?"

"Leave her alone, if she wants to be an adult and make her own decisions, she should face the consequences."

"She's our daughter!"

As if it only knows how to remain in one's heart forever, knowing nothing else besides residing in the darkness where it waits for a person to find it once more. A bad habit, everyone falls prey to, one that keeps them wrapped around its ring finger.

"I'm sorry, Raj. We have excellent grief counselors that will help you get through this tough time. My wife is a therapist, maybe she'll be able to help you process your feelings."

"He's here, he's just late for class  — he's on a trip. Why do you keep telling me I need a therapist?!"

"It's been two months, Raj..."

Until death does them part.

    When time continues to move without them, when the feet continue to hit the ground, the whooshing of bodies speeding to catch up to today, there is one thing that remains, waiting for a person stuck in time. Emptiness. It waits for that person to look back instead of forward, to seek solace in nothing but the emptiness that grows within them from the core. It waits, the way the person does for time to allow it to move on. Waiting, waiting, waiting, until one or the other succumbs to the bounds of the clock.

    Knees hitting the ground make the loudest of noises, the sound of losing oneself, the most deafening song. The moment one accepts that they have lost the most important person in their lives, it extends its hand guiding one through a sea of darkness, digits made to entwine with them, welcoming them. It encircles them with an embrace so warm, they do not realize that over time it has become stone-cold, swimming in their veins, until all that is left is ice, too afraid of the warmth. No other hand fits into theirs like the hands of Emptiness, the others, too warm, daring to melt the person away.