Thousand Paper Cuts

Thirty-four : the girl who's stuck

Skye :

Adam held her soft hands, and as he whispered, "I do", she looked down and tried to remember what had went wrong. What had terribly, terribly went wrong. And by the irregular pounding of her heart, she knew that sometimes when you lose something--it never comes back that way again.

Mark :

He ran and ran. And as he finally reached near the church, he nodded to himself, "Just few more steps. I'll be whole."
But he was forgetting the point somewhere : heart is not like a puzzle. You can't just put all the pieces together. Even if you do, it just won't be the same.
He realized this, the moment he passed the church, and from the long windows, he could see her, looking into someone else's eyes.
As he stood frozen, he terribly wished they'd never ever met.

Skye :

The pope with his large glasses looked at her, and she knew it was her turn. Her choice. Her own life.
When he was speaking the long goddamned vow (which she didn't hear at all), she looked behind Adam and saw something. Something that once again tore her apart, something bright yellow. And in that moment, she thought she was wrong ; for some feelings would always come back the same way they'd go.

Mark :

He could do nothing much more than quoting Emily Brontë here :

If all else perished, and she remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained and she were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger.

So that was what happened. Everything around him, from soft blue skies or fresh scent of flowers, felt so strange. Everyone around him turned to a mighty stranger. The whole world.
So yeah, that was what really happened of their story.
He suddenly moved away from the window and leaned against the wall. He sat down.
He stood up.
He again sat down.
He couldn't even run to her, the way she looked at someone else.
He just couldn't tell her how much her book meant alot to him, and how much she did too.

The whole world felt spinning around him. He felt sick. He was going to die, or atleast he wished. He looked at the concrete path "swallow me whole. Please. Take me away", but nothing happened.
People passed him, doing their everyday rushing, and one woman about forties with red lipstick threw ten dollars near him, where he was sitting.
She might have thought that he was a beggar, because he looked that way, specifically when he was sitting there abandoned outside church.
Little did she know he had all the money in the world and his father was the richest of the city, but hell, he was a wreck despite of all.

He felt like wanting to run away, yet he sat there still. The boy she was marrying had already said "I do" (he'd read his lips), and there was no home left for him. His only homeland was her heart. And he felt like an exiled boy from her town. Exiled, stupid boy, who had fallen so hard for her that he couldn't undo anything even if he wanted to.

He stood up slowly, and remembered the time he'd slept beside her, or that mountain top where they'd drank and chased the sun. He remembered the opening of his curtains just the other day, to let all the light in. He remembered running under the stars, because of when they hadn't paid the bill. He remembered seeing her every morning, and believing she were his sun. How much they used to be something. And how much his heart was cracked into thousands of million pieces.

At one point, he thought of going inside the church, and looking into her eyes. Maybe she could run away with him. Maybe they both could cry and cry, trying to fix their past. Maybe she would get married to him right now. People would remember this story.
But he couldn't do it. He didn't have enough guts. (Also, it'd look like a scene from : My Wedding Disaster).