Whirlwind | W.M.

25

Salzburg, Austria
2008

Goodbyes are something you can never prepare for.

Sure, you could write it down on paper, memorize a speech in your head, envision the aftermath and say you're going to be alright but when you're standing there, looking them in the eyes, watching their heart shatter from your words— watching them walk away, it hits harder than any punch you could ever prepare for.

Your body is tense and you tell yourself you're expecting the impact, that it won't hurt as much but it does, maybe a million times worse than the way it did in your head. The words taste sour on your tongue, your hands are shaky and your knees go weak like you've just been pushed onto a stage before thousands of people with your heart in your throat and your words amiss.

It tears you apart differently, when the goodbye isn't by choice too. When it's by fate, brought upon by circumstances out of your control. It's like putting down a book you've been reading for days, and knowing you can never pick it up again. Like waking up in the middle of a deep slumber and never slipping back in, like a glass half empty and a movie half seen. It's incomplete, uneasy, unsettling— the finality of the moment, the uncertainty is torturous.

"What did you do?" Our father shakily breathes, standing with a hand in Lara's, who was already in tears. I know she hated the dark, she hated the cold and in that room— surrounded by dim, swinging ceiling lights and big men with guns, it was a nightmare.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." My lips tremble profusely, heart sinking to my gut as he trails his eyes over me. I can see him slowly understanding what i've done, connecting the dots in his eyes as they flood with horror.

"No. No— no! No, Lexa! Do you hear me? No!" He screams, desperation dripping from his lips as my tears trace down my cheeks.

"It's the only way. You know it is." I weakly reply as Lara shakes off his grip, bolting to me and wrapping her arms around my torso so tightly, like i'd turn to ash and disappear into the air if she let go for even a split second.

Her hands ball up the fabric of my shirt, trembling as her face pressed into my stomach. I don't understand how i'm supposed to walk away when she's holding me like this— how I'm supposed to say goodbye to somebody I thought would forever be by my side. She was so afraid, I can feel her shaky breaths, her stifled sobs, the way her tears soak into my clothes as mine pepper my face. It was the cruelest form of torture I could ever endure.

"Lexa— please don't go. Please— Please, take it back." Lara croaks out against me, her staggered breaths shaking us in place as I make a move to get on my knees, lining up our faces as I cup her cheeks.

"I'm so sorry. I have to do this." I whisper, wiping her stream of tears with the pad of my thumb as she shakes her head incessantly.

"You don't, you don't have to go. You can come home with us. I— I can talk to them. Maybe they'll listen to me—" She spews frantically, in fragments just within my grasp as I bite back a sob.

I wanted to pick up the pieces with my own hands, to hold her in my arms and freeze time— to stay there with her forever. The fear in her eyes, the despair, the longing was the most agonizing thing I had ever seen. Her and her small frame, little hands clinging onto my wrists like I was her last lifeline and knowing i'd have to walk away.

"You're going to be okay. Just listen to me— you're going to be okay. Dad is going to take care of you, it'll be okay." I halfheartedly try to ease her pain, despite feeling its intensity myself. I barely believed in my own words— but I just wanted to give her something, anything to make it hurt less.