By Emily Mendez, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite’s Writing Contest

O.K.,
let’s face it. You and I? We were never meant to be. This could never
have happened the right way. You and I? We’re really nothing but two
complete separates; two fatefully repelled, polarized items placed into
this bleeding universe. Just two breathing components that had been
dumped into a barrage of hysteria — pitiful and weak. We could have
never been two. This is you and I, here. And you know what else? Right
now, as we are, we are truly only two separate beings. Therefore, there
is nothing left to discuss. I have nothing to do with you. Absolutely
nothing.

He
grimaced at these last words. The furrow of his brow made his
expression seem dismayed. However, this was of no concern. His persona
certainly did not matter any longer.

“It’s alright. Deep breath.” He cleared his throat, and inhaled slowly…

“Moving on.”

You’re a liar…

A
hypocritical, impudent, frightfully mesmerizing liar! Eternity is
supposed to last and you ruined the hell out of it! You were never
supposed to leave, not without me — not without everything I gave for
you. This was not supposed to happen, and yet the ground in which I
stand upon has unmistakeably been shattered, left for dead! And
everything is to blame upon you. This fault is in your stained hands, in
your being, and your strength is falling weaker still, with every
breath you take. I dare you to forget what I’ve accomplished for you.

A
scowl drew across his face as the memory recurred. The 24 year old held
his own fair head cupped inside infantile hands. “Carpe Diem,” he
murmured to himself. “But which to cease…”

The boy withdrew a low sigh towards the stained carpet and close his eyes.

Soft,
cotton sheets, rose petals, fallen upon the floor, slightly scented
candles, and an enthralling, ravish grin. The faint, sweetened aroma,
the slight of a light, grazing touch — and the spellbound glow of those
bright eyes. The flowing tunes, skimming the outline of the room,
caressing the sound of it all: rumbles heard within the feathered plush,
and the heavy breathing of hurried animals. Their skins in constant
friction — running, racing. The substructure on which they perform is
soaked in fulfilling promise, along with the nature of the game
containing a high chance for disappointment to strike. The sound of
wounded prey crying loud in pain, and the predator does not stop, moving
forward, and on with the race, and on with the hunt, and on with the
game — and the push to survive wills on. Snatch. Whip. Scratch. Bite.
Hiss. Scream. Terrifying motivations, and yet, the game continues.
Pushing forward, never holding back, and thrusting with all possible
might, both participants gasp in breathless hysteria. Concentrated
desire, and yet, their drive has fallen short. And, although the game
may be rough, to ease out of this yearning tension is even worse.

Sentimental
pain struck his beating organ as he opened his eyes, lying down. There
he was, a disaster, planted inside a cocoon of white cotton sheets,
immersed within the confinements of his own despair. Not only was he
fazed, but also worn out from the insistent sobs caused by remorse. He
found himself alone, feeling cold and unforgiven as a cool breeze had
brought in voices from outside his apartment window. In a trance, he
rolled off the bed towards the open quadrilateral. Temperature continued
to drop, slowly and steadily, as this young boy sulked at the setting
before him. There, he continued to stand contrast to the open air,
gazing out into the lively street, where amorphous crowds would saturate
into empty segments, and regroup once again in chronic sequence. The
intersection thrived with life, like the rate of a constant heartbeat,
while he, unlike the rest of the population, lived within a world of
personal resentment. Placing a hand against the barren wall, he sighed
at the sight of those walking busily down the street, full of purpose,
intention – the feeling in which he envied and longed for.

A
sudden pain surged through his veins so rapidly that his eyes were shut
before he even realized, and right then, he remembered the open wound
which was branded in his chest only a few, short days ago. Surely, he
would not have been alone today, had he not injured her in scathing word
or deed. But that moment is long gone, and every lie in which was told
eternities before now made him realize the meaning in her last words. He
could read her every thought when witnessing the frustration stream
down her flushed and rosin cheeks…

“I’d
rather know than be called blind, Joey… The heartfelt fire which we
once had is now dwindling with little life, and you continue to try to
blow out the spark with your chilling lies.”

With
tears in his eyes, as she was saying her goodbyes, he was wasting away
and holding back these imminent fears. He’s the only one to blame for
everything. He can remember spending his every waking moment revert back
to thinking of her smile, embrace, and laughter. And just like autumn
would turn leaves, winter would breathe cold on their barren necks,
blowing snow into their beds from time to time.

The
shrilling siren of the passing ambulance in the street had broken the
progressing silence held within Joey’s apartment. The soft knock on the
door, however, made him jump out of his skin. Company was the last thing
on his mind as he made his way towards the door. There was no door
hole, so he decided to answer. Unlock, unlatch, unlock, detach, unlock,
turn. The creak of the door was the loudest sound ever made when his
eyes met hers, triggering a rapid and hurtful beating to pump within his
chest.

“Joey…” she whispered, her face crinkling into a sweet smile. “You’re still here, after all.”

His
expression remained impassive. However, he knew that her very presence
regained within his doorway — within his grasp — was like a prayer
that was answered after a time of wishful thinking. He sized her frame
from hair to toe, in shock with her celestial being. But he held his
ground and remained silent, resuming eye contact with his lover.

“Joey, I’m sorry for leaving… Can I come in, please?”

Quiet.

“I
hope you can understand why I did what I had done — it was all just
too much,” she cried. “But I’ve realized that it was wrong to do — I
was wrong.”

Joey continued the stare down. She fidgeted.

“You were right for me, and I was wrong to leave – I was wrong, Joey… and I’m sorry.”

She
held her breath, pausing for a moment, severely anxious to see any sort
of response that would reveal a path of leeway. Anything — a comment, a
shuffle, even the blink of his eyes…

“You’re
everything to me and I cannot say how regretful I am in the decision I
made. I am so sorry. Please, please forgive me, Joey.”

He
could feel the muscles in his face relax. The iron wall in which he
built against society so many hours before had tumbled, fallen into
crushed rubble as he held open his arms to his past. Lisa rushed for her
first love, nevermore holding onto an ounce of her past once she felt
his heartwarming embrace. Everything is here, everything she needed was
within his being. Joey is the only meaningful speck of the universe
that makes the struggles worth the while. And they loved forever, their
passion for each other never swaying. Everything from their lives before
then was done and said in vain, for their connection to one another was
a link so strong in bond that not even the universe could fathom its
integrity.

He
opened his eyes, and Joey felt the fireflies in his stomach flame on.
He turned his head eastward, and saw his woman lying beside him, fallen
asleep atop his pillows, and wrapped inside his cotton sheets. Lisa was
beautiful even as she slept. Turning his attention northward, the
ceiling seemed limitless.

“This is what heaven must be like”, he thought to himself.

Feeling
a never ending high within his soul, he would not exchange a thing in
the world to change the way this love has turned out.

About the Author

I’ve
been writing since I was young girl. I write lyrics, short stories, and
poems in my spare time, and whenever I find the inspiration to carry on
with my pen. Words mean a lot to me, and I like to manipulate them into
poetic signature. The English language is inspiring in itself, and I
find it amazing that there is an opportunity, such as this, to share a
piece of my very own work. I hope everyone enjoys the drama in this
short story!

About The Author