I’m Sorry

“I’m sorry.”
Abused words that encompass all feelings of negativity. Numbness spread over his body like oil thrust upon the surface of water. She began to walk away. Slowly away. She was in numbed tears and he was near-suicide.
The slight shower stencilled the moonlight upon the road. He couldn’t lose her. Not now. The ring was in his pocket. The one his father used to propose to his mother. The one that alone could pay for an entire fortune of millions. He was ready to give it to her. It was to be done the next day, but a day too late.
“Jut please, don’t ever leave me here. Don’t leave. Please.”

She couldn’t love him. Never. The closer she got, and the more she hated herself. What was she doing? She was leading him on; Pan to innocent children. And the sweet chaos of the electric guitars could not drown the noise of her mind out. It screamed at her in anger and the prowess of such was too much for her ears to bear. She couldn’t fall asleep those days. She was only 18 and it felt as if she’d been fucked over one too many times, and such lack of emotion was undeniable. It was too noticed, too felt.
“Darling, I’ve been thinking about us. How long has it been since we last had sex, David? How long has it been since we last made love?” She said. “There is a difference between the two. You of all people know this. Of all people, you should understand.”
He looked at her and wondered at the question posed. After a day’s worth of completing activities that mattered, it no longer did. Why was she cuddled in his loving arms? Why was she still doing this when what he meant was no longer what meant to her? He took his coat and placed it on her shoulders, to warm her from the outside rain’s ghastly chill. The apartment was silent, and she lay there in his arms in tears. He was sleepy, but stayed awake, for her. Consciousness was irrelevant when it came to her, and she needed him more than ever. And he did stay awake.
“Don’t you ever get lonely around me? It’s not really better for me.” He was silent.
She sat up, and he followed, rubbing her shoulders, placing his chin next to her neck. His under-grown beard was sharp, but comforting. Her red hair smelled of shampoo. Her neck smelled of him. He held her waist and rubbed his hand round her. With his free hand he turned her face and he kissed her. She accepted it. It was his test, now. A final examination of a love no longer felt. It was over and she was numb.
“I have to go. It’s been great. I’ll move out in the morning.” He was stupefied and in tears as she dressed herself and began to leave. He stood up and grabbed her wrist, in one last futile effort to revive her lost soul. She was in an emotional comatose, and there had to be some way to wake her. To make her see his love. He’d tried everything imaginable, from physical needs to emotional, to spiritual. He converted for her. He believed, for her.
She pressed on further down the road she couldn’t feel, and he followed, half dressed in his jeans, but barefoot. Shirtless in the moonlight and rain. She turned on the corner and a man in black snatched her purse. He followed the man into the nearby alleyway and with a single echoed cry, there was silence. He never returned. She knew what happened, and there was no way for her to comprehend the fury of the emotions that strangled her mind. She peered into the alleyway, half in tears, half in angered shock. The ring was still in his pocket.
She walked on, leaving his dead body to cry in the rain. She arrived at her apartment, and dove into the bed and fell asleep as if she never knew him. She slept peacefully.
“I’m sorry. I really am.”

(c) Anachronic Works 2011


30 thoughts on “I’m Sorry

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    The next time I read a blog, I hope that it doesnt disappoint me as much as this one. I mean, I know it was my choice to read, but I actually thought youd have something interesting to say. All I hear is a bunch of whining about something that you could fix if you werent too busy looking for attention.

    • Oh, I’m sorry it disappointed you, but I hope you will read some other articles from my blog before you come up with the judgement that I just post “…a bunch of whining about something you could fix if you werent too busy looking for attention.” I hope you will take the time out for you to further read before passing judgement. I’m rather sorry that it disappointed you, but no matter. I will still carry on doing what I like, of course, taking in to consideration that I should do less “whining”. Thank you for your input. 🙂

    • Oh, and I forgot to mention that this was a short story, not something that actually happened to me.

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