MY ONLY SIGHT

It Was His Fault (JAMES)

Cradling my face in her hands, as it began to slip through her wet hands, slowly. Gravity was pulling me down and I was no one to fight it, besides, friction was no help either: my tears seemed to be the best lubricants.

The voices. They were calling out my name again pulling me back in. It was getting darker and I slowly slipped.... Into the void deep within my heart.

•••••••••••••••••••••••

Why were they laughing? I haven't said anything. Yet.

It was too hard to look straight, someone was shining something real bright at me. Was it a torch light?

If only I could... Whwhat is this? Why am I tied up? And what am I being tied to?

It's a chair.

My throat is completely dry right now so yelling wasn't really an option.

"James? James, I don't think I can do this anymore. I-I dropped him again. What if he grows up with some sort of deformity because of me. I-I'm such a terrible mother, James this was a serious mistake."

I was gaping like a fish out of water. I wanted to talk to her, reach out to her, tell her it's okay.

"She dropped your child four times in a month! I'm sure Anne will never do that, you have to leave her, take the child and marry Anne!"

He was screaming whiles she was at the door. I always thought my father was wicked but then it's not like he ever had a heart. I was itching to shield her ears from his words and hide her from the world.

"The day SHE leaves this house is the day I will be declare you as my dead son!" My mother screamed

At least she got what she wanted.

"James!"

I couldn't breathe. What was going on? Then it was dark again.

It was quiet. Was I really awake or is this a dream within a dream?

"Oh James."

"mitéra?"

She was crying, but why? I tried reaching out to her, yelling

And then there was Estella, she was also crying with our baby in her arms.

"agápi mou?"

"James."

"What's going on?"

But she didn't answer. She was too busy shushing the baby.

"I'm sorry," she whispered but not to me. Turning my head in the direction of where I felt she was talking to, the was no one there, it was only a picture of a man, surrounded by flowers.

Taking slow reluctant steps towards it, to find a man with shiny grey eyes staring at me, his lips were like a boat full of cheer.

It was me.

This was my funeral.

I might as well be dead.

Maybe that's why they won't answer me.

The frightful sound of a gunshot and the horrifying sight of a bleeding heart turned my attention back to my wife. Her pale white face, completely drained of all signs of life and the empty look in her arms. Where is my son?! She was dying and all I could do was to stare in shock at the tear provoking sight but then something pulled me back. The smile of a selfish old man and a bratty little Anne.

"You will never see her again. She's gone and it's all your fault."

And then I noticed that this was a dream. Cause if it weren't one, I wouldn't be looking up at a scared Helena, shaking me awake.