Places we won't walk

Chapter 2

I waited all night in front of the door for the jangling of her keys or even a knock but got nothing. Not even a shadow in the doorway. I crawled to my feet, grabbing onto the table next to me for support and it came toppling down on me. Next to me, her favorite vase shattered, spitting glass shards into my fingers. All I could do was stare. Blood seeped into the white carpet under my hand. It didn't hurt. Didn't even sting. I picked up the bigger pieces and placed them into my other hand, further ripping my already injured one. Soon all the pieces were off the floor and both of my hands were stained red and numb. 

Somehow I gathered the strength to stand up and throw the glass in the bin. I walked over to the kitchen sink and let the faucet run with cold water. I put one hand under the stream and shuddered. The water was too cold in the wintertime. The blood slowly washed away, only leaving bright pink cuts behind. I pulled it out from under the faucet and watched the blood beads resurface. I let the water run over my palm once again, washing away all the hurt and reminding my fingers how they used to dance along strings. I watched the orange-tinged water spill off my hand and disappear into the drain. 

I ripped off a paper towel with my clean hand and clenched the fabric as tightly as I could. My grip was weak and my hand was trembling. I let the water clean my other hand. I grabbed another paper towel and clenched it in my newly cleaned fist. I didn't turn off the water though. I let it run and I listened to its slow, sad song. 

The smell of her perfume danced on my lips for a moment before disappearing again. 

When did she get home?

My eyes shot up from the running water and desperately scanned the room for her long red hair or her hazel eyes. I switched off the faucet and listened for her voice. Nothing but silence in our dim kitchen.

I slipped on the shoes that were closest to the door and stepped out. Holding my breath, I closed the door and made my way toward the elevator. I stepped in and exhaled as the doors closed. I looked down at my trembling fists and watched as a droplet of blood spilled off of my finger. The doors opened and lifted my eyes. They almost didn't want to stay open. I took a deep breath and stepped out of the elevator. 

"Good evening Charlie, where ya off to?" 

I stopped walking, eyes still trained on the front door. "Out," my voice trembled. 

I began walking before he could say anything more. My voice was weak and my soul was too tired to try to keep a conversation. He called out to me, tried to offer help. I kept going, never stopping. Pushing the door open with  my shoulder and I let his voice fade out behind me. I kept my fast pace as I walked down the street amongst all the people walking along with me. My fists trembled and my heart hurt and my eyes began to sting and droplets of water rolled off my face like the blood seeped out of my hands. Steady. 

I continued down the street with my teary eyes and red face. Nobody stopped. Nobody stared. Nobody helped. 

Nobody cared.