Where Is Your Rider?

Chapter VI: Air

I decided to linger a little bit longer. I began to run again. One or two miles. Then three. Four miles. Five miles. Sometimes twice a day. It pained me so. I wasn't as limber as I used to be. And yet it was a comforting pain. When we stub our toe, we forget the mosquito bite that itches us for a while. I was unable to confront my pain, but I was able to distract myself with other harms. The torture felt so good. I began to work more hours. In the weekends, when I couldn't work, I busied myself in the house or in the garden. I would vacuum the house so often, even though it was completely clean. We never had a dog or cat; you were allergic. I stopped using the dishwasher. Washing by hand took longer. It was strange. Instead of slowly withering away, I became a machine. I knew a girl just like that once. She was so productive, it was incredible. People thought her to be extremely happy. I knew better than that. She was miserable but was unable to escape her pain. Her blood was contaminated, and she could only keep herself from being poisoned by keeping the wound open. I hope she doesn't bleed to death, as she was quite kind.

I listened to a lot of new music, I watched a lot of movies. I was so incredibly afraid of being alone with my thoughts. I dreaded the nights. The night was where I was weakest. But people didn't see me at night. People didn't see me at all. Neither did I, to be fair.

In the mirror, I saw not a lonesome man too cowardly to give up, but who I did see, I did not know.

"You are becoming Beauty", the horse-creature's disembodied would echo in my ear. Was it truly there, or did I imagine it? I should have gotten help, and yet I knew no one would believe me. How could they? Did I even deserve help? The urge to rip out my heart and give it to someone who deserved it was immeasurable. But only you deserved my heart and you do not want it anymore. I was broken and irreparable. Merely a husk.

To start living again, I would have to become someone new. I think that realization began that day, but only much later did I find out what that truly meant. Did I start to become someone else, or something else? I did not enjoy the events that shaped me.

It happened again. Before I had forgotten how Emily's voice sounded, that was how soon it was. Kiara lived alone in her apartment, not yet with her boyfriend. She preferred to take her time with things and wouldn't force herself to do anything. It was good that she hadn't, or he would have died as well. Or not. He could have woken up and saved both of them. She was an unpredictable woman and she died unpredictably.

The first sign was when she had leery complaints about her clothes dryer. It smelt so weird. But of course not weirdly enough to get it checked. She would probably move out in a few months regardless. But that day, she didn't feel well. It was a Saturday afternoon and she had plans to go out with friends that night. But she felt so dizzy. Dizzy and sick. So tired. No, not well at all. She stayed home that day and didn't want anyone to come over in case she had some contagious disease. She thought she had the flu, but she felt strangely cold for having the flu. She kept the windows closed at night.

Death began to build up in her bloodstream. Her oxygen was replaced by carbon monoxide. The air she breathed did not satiate her lungs, but they suffocated her.

It was good that death took her while she slept, as I was sure she would have merely laughed at it and told it 'no, I don't want to go' if she were awake. You would never be able to grasp her. Kiara was like a leaf blowing in the wind. Either she spun around through the sky and flew, or she descended and wasted on the ground. The trees no longer sing to me. The air is gone.