The Color Blue

Joanna

The day Joanna died I stood in front of her lifeless body, desperately trying to steady my rapid breathing. I had carried the lifeless body of the love of my life about half a mile through the seemingly endless acres of land, through our beautiful home and into our basement. My eyes unable to focus on anything but the beautiful hardwood floors that were now covered in her blood. I couldn't understand how this had happened.

Had I been there? Of course I was there I pulled the trigger. No. I suddenly forgot how to breath again. I stared down at her once again. She hadn't moved this time. She always moved.

Her eyes were shut, she looked peaceful. It reminded me of Sunday mornings when we both got to sleep in, her short wavy hair cascading over her pale skin. Her overly grown bangs, she'd spent months asking me to cut, laid effortlessly over her eyelashes.

If it wasn't for the bullet hole in her chest surrounded by her crimson red blood. A stranger could mistake her for being in a deep sleep.

Suddenly I became very aware of the temperature in the nearly empty basement. Boxes and scattered papers along the concrete floors. At the furthest wall I could see the large meat locker. My father taught me how to hunt, he's always wanted a son, but he got me so he settled. Hunting wasn't a sport to me, we only used it as a way to survive the harsh winters.

I slowly lifted Joanna, her limp body seemly heavier than I remembered.

I couldn't freeze her.

I couldn't bury her either.

Police would never believe our game. They wouldn't know how much it excited her while terrifying me.

Joanna was my biggest fear. I loved her too much to say no. It didn't start this way. She was my everything and I would never hurt her.

I was gentle at the beginning. She brought me into her world, she reintroduced me to pain. She reintroduced me to excitement.

I'd close my eyes, she'd hide, when I found her she'd stick a knife to my neck and we'd make the best most indescribable love.

One day she surprised me. She pulled out a rifle pushed it into my hand and told me to pull the trigger. At first I was hesitant, but our knife play no longer excited me like it once did.

She rewarded me after every miss. We had one close call. I grazed her arm. That was what sent us over the edge. The rifle was our toy.

Joanna used to bring it to bed with us. She was obsessed with it and I was obsessed with her. I am obsessed with her.

I lifted the lid to the freezer. The small amount of meat left from a previous hunt was taking up space. I carelessly threw it onto the hard floor. The sound echoed. I gently placed her into the freezer.

I waited for a moment, expecting her eyes to fly open from the cold. Joanna was never a fan, she'd steal all my hoodies through the winter, layer multiple and crank up the heater. One winter I came home to find her buried under five thick blankets shivering. She'd looked at me like I was a crazy person when I sat down in hardly any clothes sweating from the heat.

I knew I'd miss those bright green eyes someday, who thought it'd come this soon.

I closed the lid. I stood there for an unrealistic amount of time, because when I turned to leave there was a puddle of water at my feet. It seemed the meat had melted it's thick layer of freezer ice all over my boots. I picked up the still semi frozen meat, dropping it as the ice burned the tips of my fingers.

Had I always been this aware of my nerves?

I turned once more and looked at the freezer before turning towards the stairs. My steps were heavy as I walked into the kitchen. The back door still open, the trail of blood was dark now.

How long had I been down there?

I half expected Joanna to run around the corner giggling at something on her phone. It never came. I slowly walked towards the living area.

As I walked by the hall mirror, I remembered the night before. I stood at this mirror silently fixing the curly mess that she'd created while constantly running her lengthy fingers through my hair. I could see her behind me adjusting her jacket. Our eyes met briefly before she smirked at me. Her perfectly imperfect teeth shining back at me. Joanna had braces as a kid but failed to wear her retainer for years, she was constantly hiding her smile when we met. She'd grown to love her smile around me, simply because I loved it. I loved everything about her. I loved her.

Suddenly the memory was gone. The house was empty again. It was quiet. Deafening. Haunting. The air felt heavy. She was gone. I was gone. She'd taken me with her. No.

I had slid onto the floor. My back pressed into the hard wall. I could feel my chest rising and falling. Was I crying? I touched the wetness on my face. Yes.

Why are you crying? You killed her.

It wasn't supposed to happen like this. She wasn't supposed to die. It wasn't supposed to be me.

Joanna had pulled the trigger once. She missed. Not because I moved. Because she was a lousy shot. She swore to never miss again. Then she never pointed the rifle at me again.

I kissed her harder than I ever had that day. She was everything to me. I was everything to her. Except when I wasn't.

Joanna loved the color blue. She said it was why she fell in love with me. I have blue eyes and my hair was the brightest blue when we met. She would run her fingers over the veins on my arms because she 'wanted to be them'.

Sometimes I'd wake up to her covered in blue, anything blue. Once it was just her in a bright blue dress eating a blue lollipop. She'd smile at me and want nothing but to stare into my eyes for the first hour. At first it was silly, eventually I grew to enjoy it. I'd long for her blue days.

I'd buy her everything blue anytime I found something she'd like. Unsurprisingly green became my favorite color, spending countless hours staring into perfect green orbs can do that to you. Her lips were my second favorite color. They were the most perfect shade of pale pink.

Nothing like they looked in the freezer.

Shut up.

They looked soft, although they weren't always that way. She had an awful habit of chewing on them until they bled.

I remember kissing them, sometimes I'd linger over them almost expecting her to break. She always seemed so fragile to me. Even after constantly proving me otherwise, she was a delicate flower and I vowed not to ever destroy her.

You killed her.

I picked myself up off the floor. One more glance into the mirror pulled me from my thoughts. Joanna was behind me. Her green eyes staring back into mine. My breath caught in my throat. A bright light reflect off the knife in her hand. She was wearing my favorite bright blue dress. Her hair wet and curly. Although all the color had been drained off her skin, she remained beautiful as ever.

Suddenly the knife was at my neck. I could feel the cold metal pressing into my glistening olive skin. Suddenly becoming aware of how warm the house was.

Wait. I could feel the knife. How?

A sudden sharp pain as I made eye contact with my own reflection. The knife falling to the hardwood floor. The blood began the spill, as I felt the liquid fill my throat. It happened rather quickly I was on the ground, laying in the pool of my, no our blood.

I saw her pretty face come to life as she smiled down at me.

My Joanna.