The Symphony

The Final Note

Sometimes we don't want to heal because the pain is the last link to what we've lost
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Charlie's pov
I was minding my business—quite literally—signing off on a few documents when my assistant bust through the door. I glanced up at her with a blank face, frankly pissed that she interrupted me. "What could possibly be so important that you feel the need to bother me while I'm working—and to come in so brazenly at that?" I question her and she's visibly nervous, a slight tremble to her hands.

I almost feel bad for her until I remember I pay her to be discreet, to assist not hinder me. "I- well there's an email and um-" "for fucks sake" I mutter to myself "would you spit it out" I demand. "The apocalypse. You have a ticket to an outpost. Details are in the email I forwarded" she promptly leaves the room after and I'm in a state of shock for a moment.

Apocalypse? That has to be a joke, right? Everyone knows that only happens in movies. However, my curiosity gets the best of me and I search for the email. I open it and begin to read over the information and am surprised that it actually seems legit. After years of reading formal documents, I can tell when something is serious and this certainly is.

But how? Why? There's all of a sudden just massive nuclear destruction? I was of course aware of disputes going on globally but I prayed it never got this bad. This seems erratic though, almost intentional. I don't have much time to dwell on it, since it's clearly urgent. I begrudgingly pack up my things and shut down everything in my office.

I exit and let everyone know they can go home, my last rare act of kindness. At least their last memory of me won't be so harsh, it may not be fond but the extra time with their family will erase that...

a week later

I've managed to gather the essentials and of course a few more personal items. I'm not much of a sentimental person but there are certain things I hold dear. As I file through my vast array of clothes, I halt in my tracks. I have to remind myself to breathe and as soon as I do, that intoxicating smell hits me. It's like a head-rush as it floods my nostrils, her perfume.

It makes no sense how it's held the scent against the fabric for so long but me questioning that won't do me any good. I take the sweater in my hands, prepared to toss it into the pile behind me. My fingers grip it tightly and instead I find myself pulling it to my face. I nuzzle my nose into the creases, sighing softly.

Tension I didn't even know I had is released as I allow the scent to invade my every sense. Suddenly, she's once again painted across my every thought. I haven't thought about her in a while and now I know it'll take me just as long as the first time—if not longer—to get her out my head. Except, I don't think I truly want that.

I place the sweater into my suitcase and stare at it, debating on whether I want to bring it. If I'll never see her again, I want to keep a memory of her. As much as I try to tell myself I don't miss her, it's all a lie. Every night I lay in bed and subconsciously wish she was beside me. I may not admit it to myself but that lonely feeling is always there even if I can't discern it.

I finish packing my clothes and there's a knock at my door soon after. I open it and a man in all black ushers me out and into the back of a car. The windows are tinted so dark I'm almost certain it's not legal but I dismiss it as that's the least of my worries. I hear the trunk close and then the man slips into the passenger seat.

The car begins to move and I don't bother asking questions. I stopped caring whether I lived or died a while ago. It simply is what it is. I have to say, though, going by way of acid rain wouldn't be pleasant. I zone out on the drive, not caring much for anything around me. How could I when she has wormed her way back into my brain?

Even now, the redhead has a way of distracting me from everything outside of her. I'm only pulled away from my fixation when the car door opens. It's then I realize how my legs have cramped from being in the same position for so long. I step out and nod to the men, allowing them to lead me into this outpost.

Apparently I'm one of the first to arrive which makes me 'lucky' they said, as I won't have to go through the process of stripping and cleansing. I do say a silent 'thank you' to that because lord knows I can't take much else right now. My bags are carried further into the underground facility and I'm instructed to wait for the leader to greet us.

I soon learn who 'us' is when the room begins to get stuffy as they shuffle in. I roll my eyes, already feeling like I'll hate it here. Gratitude isn't one of my strong suits as I've always gotten what I wanted or needed of my own volition; and maybe I should feel so considering I could've been left to fend for myself but that's not the case.

A familiar sound floats through the room and my ears instantly perk up. I raise my head and face it in the direction of where the clicking comes from. I hold my breath in anticipation and when she comes into view, I feel it all leave my body. Her eyes meet mine and it appears she shares in my shock. I can't believe my eyes and it's as though no time has passed; she's still just as beautiful as I remember her.

"Wilhemina" I whisper to myself and I could swear I saw her eyes soften...