Azrael & Destiny

Chapter 1

Destiny stood by her husband's freshly made grave, the raindrops gently touching his buried body. Her shoes turned wet, and so did her clothes. The umbrella in her hand did not offer her protection, or maybe it did, but her hands had no power to hold that thing straight in her hand.

"Let's go, Des," her mother wiped the water beads on her cheek.

"A little bit more, mama," she didn't waver her gaze from her husband's eternal resting place.

"Des," her mother clutched her daughter's cheeks and turned her face away from her son-in-law's grave.

"You need to let go. You need rest. You've been standing here for 3 hours. He won't come back, Des," she knew this would hurt her daughter's heart, but she had to say this. If not, this would end her existence. Nodding, Destiny bent down and placed a kiss on Blade's grave.

"I will see you soon," she touched the mud with her forehead. They reached her house, and the living room was filled with cards and wishes. She didn't bother cleaning or looking at them. Every room was filled with his memories, the memories they shared. They turned into spears dipped in poison, killing her over and over again until there was no blood to bleed.

"Destiny.........." Blade's voice grabbed her attention. "I am here," a voice came out of the closet.

"Destiny, babe. My coffee," she saw Blade standing by the island. And then she saw another figure walking by. It was her. Her brain was projecting her memories.

"It is right here, Blade," she picked up the cup and handed it to him.

"When have I ever tasted my coffee without you drinking it first?" he pulled her by her waist and kissed her cheeks.

"God, this will never get old," he spilled multiple kisses all over her pretty face, and she took them in without protest.

She never realized those happy memories would turn to venom and render her motionless.

"Why God?" she dropped onto her knees, weeping until she wheezed. She had to grieve all by herself. She needed space to cry when she wanted to and feel depressed when she felt like it.

And just like that, seven months passed. Time never waits for anyone. It keeps up its work and moves forward, trying to weave the threads of healing if one is willing to heal. She thought she would improve as the days passed, but her grief didn't lessen. Instead, it would return in waves. Somedays, she felt okay, and somedays she felt a hollow ache in the depths of her heart. Like a Kraken under the ocean, increasing by the minute, pulling her under the waters of despair and hopelessness. She never learned to fight the beast. She happily hugged the monster of loss, hoping it would deliver her from the pain.

Her head lay on the side, soaking the paper she used to paint.