Creative Writing Pieces

Sorrow

Sorrow.

I feel sorrow overcome me as I watch the only man I've ever loved slip through my fingertips and into another's.

"Angelina!"

I turn around to see Mary-Kate barreling towards me. She catches me as I fall, and I collapse in her arms. The tears are flooding my eyes and rush down my face in streams. I am in hysterics – my heart has stopped its monotonous beating. I wish for death, because it is the only thing that I feel could sooth the pain, but it doesn't come.

She tries to calm me, make me even the slightest bit happy, but it fails. "Shh," she tells me, brushing hair out of my face as I lay in her arms, partially unconscious. "Everything is going to be all right. Trust me."

"How?!" I burst out between sobs.

"Let's... let's get you some fresh air." She drags me away from the scene and outside of the ballroom. She helps me stand up and looks me in the eyes. "Angelina, you weren't supposed to go in there."

The tears have stopped. I am drained of any kind of emotion. I catch a glimpse of myself in the ceiling-high mirror across the corridor and frown. I look criminally insane. My jet black hair is knotted, tangled, and resembles a bird's nest; my eyes are dark, soulless. My skin is the palest I've ever seen it – paler than when I saw my dog dead under the willow tree when I was twelve; paler than when I found out about my parents' divorce; paler than the moon on Halloween night. I approach the mirror, my pace slow. I take in the image of myself and sigh.

"Ange–"

"How could he do this to me? We were soul mates. At least, I thought we were."

"Ange–"

"I'm so unbelievably heartbroken, Mary-Kate." I can't stop staring at my frightening appearance. My black, lace dress is lopsided.

Wait, why am I wearing a dress? I don't remember putting one on.

I push the thought away and sigh once more. "It just hurts. Really, really bad."

"Jesus, Angelina, will you listen to me?"

I gaze at her in curiosity. I am in severe pain, what could be so damn important?

"You weren't supposed to go in there–"

"You already said–"

"You weren't supposed to go in there because it is all set up for Halloween."

"What're you saying? Roderick is cheating on me, what the hell does this have to do with Halloween?"

She grabs my shoulders. "Ange, the whole setup was provided by the Science department at NYU. It shows whoever steps inside of it their worst fear, and you were the first to try it."

A tear finds its way to the corner of my eye. "You mean... it wasn't real?"

"Yes. It was all just an illusion."

"So... Roderick?"

"Roderick's at home, just where you left him this morning."

I hug her with all of the strength I have. "Oh, thank God!"

She smiles on my shoulder and hugs me back. "This means the invention works – we have to tell the head of the department."

"We will, but first I have to do something."

After we finish hugging, I rush home to see my beloved Roderick. I swing open the door to our apartment and call out his name. No response. I hear shuffling near the end of the hallway and a hushed whisper. I tiptoe towards the source and find myself in the master bedroom.

My heart begins to feel like it was doused in kerosene and set ablaze. I don't want to believe the scene before me, but it's hard not to when you see the person responsible escaping through the window and down the balcony.

Because of the circumstances, I realize what my worst fear really is.

Becoming a widow.