C O L L I D E

P R O L O G U E

                                      The spirit is willing, but the body is weak.

                                                  (BIBLE, Matthew 26:41)

The rain falls fast, impacting against the metal of the playground with a ricocheting ping. Loud and echoing, it reminds me of bullet casings hitting the ground, like they do in the films my brothers watch. Just as unforgiving; just as final.

There was a time in my life when rain meant nothing much to me. A time where the speed with which it bounced off the ground would not have captured my attention. That was before he came into my life. He took everything I knew, and ripped it up. The way I saw the world, my perception of everything, it all changed. He taught me to see the world through his eyes, and through his eyes rain fell like bullet casings.

Everything has a violent edge with him. There's always a hint of danger, a gleam of fear. Even the most passionate moments we've shared - our most intense kisses - had an edge of anger to them. Finally, I understand where that comes from. I understand why, in the same moment that he gathers me tenderly in his arms, he’ll be gazing at me with hell in his eyes.

It's all in his mind. It's inside of him. Half of him loves me, completely and utterly. The other half, the side merged with danger and anger, hates me. Despises, loathes and is repulsed by me. By us. By the love we share. The side that torments him.

I stalk him with my eyes, as he does me, from across the desolate park. He's standing beside the swing set, dressed in his finest: black tie, black shirt and black trousers. I'm reminded of the people back at school, the ones oblivious to what is about to happen. Tonight is an end for them, but of a completely different nature. My friends and peers are celebrating the end of high school.

The feel of the now soaked white fabric of my dress clinging to my leg as I move reminds me that I'm not supposed to be here. I should be back at the school celebrating an ending, not causing one.

“You came.” His voice rings out through the darkness.

“So did you.”

A flicker of emotion betrays his face, but it's gone in an instant. Under the dim light of the moon I can't make out what it is, even with my new heightened vision.

I watch as his eyes rake over the length of my body. I feel as he drinks in my image, the shiver his penetrating gaze causes within me, the heat as my pulse quickens - fire licking its way through my veins.

What a sight I must look to him. What was a long, flowing dress is now heavy and stuck to the curves of my body with rain water. My blonde hair, that was pinned and twisted into perfect precision on top of my head, now wild and cascading down my back. Both of us were dressed for a dance one of us would never see again.

“You look beautiful.”

I try to ignore the warmth that his words ignite in me; a warmth so familiar to me now; a warmth I'll never feel again. What good could it do either of us for me to smile at his compliment? What use is it for me to tell him how good he looks? Where's the point in reminding him that I still want him? We both know our feelings have no influence over what is to happen. What has to happen.

Tears sting my eyes, but I blink them back. There's a yearning in my stomach so intense I feel like my soul's dying. Maybe it is. The thought of anything happening to him is enough to strike me catatonic, and yet here I stand, poised to kill him.

The rain fall is as unrelenting as it has been all week, but I don't really feel it as it drenches my skin. I'm aware of my soaked clothes, my wet hair, yet I feel a strange detachment to them. It's as though seeing him has pulled me straight back into the familiar bubble he creates around me. The feeling that it is only myself and him in the entire world. Everything else is stripped away - nature, noise, sights, smells, people; Everything disappears until all that is left is us.

Well, for a time it had been that way. Now everything's different. Now nothing is as guarded as that. I'd been sheltered my entire life and now there was nobody left to protect me. I thought I'd made the decisions that had led me to this point, but I had no real idea if I had or not. I had no idea if any decision in my life so far had been made by me, or whether is was always some higher force.

The soft glow of the moon, reflected in his charcoal eyes, is mesmerising. “I wish things were different,” I tell him. It doesn't change anything, but it's the truth.

A sadness creeps into his face. “Me too, aingeal an bháis. Me too.”

The moment feels intimate even though we're yards apart.

Thunder rolls behind the clouds. Out here, in Suicide Park, this scene almost seems peaceful to me. Accepting that one of us will not be leaving here again has made this small, dark piece of the earth a haven to me. It doesn't really matter if I win or lose, either way my soul dies.

“You ready?” I ask, caught between never wanting this to begin and a passionate urge to get it over with.

He pulls a beautifully crafted blade out from the back of his shirt. The stars are reflected in each drop of water that falls onto it. I wonder if it will seem as beautiful covered in blood. There's no time left. No more places to hide. This is it.

I bring my hand up from my side, positioning my own blade in-front of me, defensively. It's amazing how prepared for this my body feels, hard to imagine that a few short weeks ago I'd never have believed myself capable of controlling a weapon with such mastery. He was right, this is my destiny. My body had adapted to what it had to do long before I had any knowledge of what was to come. What I was made to do.

There's a whipping sound as thunder cracks through the skies. Just like a whistle at the start of a game, we both know it's begun. Somewhere in the distance there's a bright flash of lightening followed by another and we listen as it strikes a tree to the ground. It's fitting, really. We're just pawns in a long standing battle between The Above and The Below. The war between the two defines the world as it's known. How foolish we were to think we had a choice in our own lives. How we ever thought our love was stronger than the millennia of hate felt by each side seems ridiculous to me now.

I focus all my senses, drawing them all close to me, relishing my new found skills even as I am repulsed by what they mean . Tightening my grip on the handle of my blade, I mouth I love you to him one last time.

He smirks as I spring forward in attack.