He strolled through the coal-black alleyway, through the city, to the graveyard. Three miles in, and he was where he needed to be. The epitaph on the tombstone read "Haven Missirian, loved daughter, 1990-2011. Missirian, the last name of the richest family in the country, almost wealthiest in the world. They had an ample amount of power. Yet, they had treated Haven as less than a plebeian because she had fallen in love with him. They pulverized her, disdained her, and killed her...... apparently.
Thomas spoke in an almost inaudible voice,
"I am here." Almost instantaneously she came out from behind a large oak tree. Seeing her was as seeing an apparition. Thomas was set aghast at her appearance. Her hair was disheveled, her clothes torn, skin full of cuts and bruises. She cowered away, and hid behind the tree. Quiet sobs began to flood the air and it tore his heart in two. "Haven, you have no need to hide from me." She slowly revealed herself again, lips trembling, tears flowing down her cheeks. "I will make them pay for what they've done to you, I swear on my life." Thomas asserted.
"Thomas, no, you must not, they seem kind but they are volatile, perilous people." She lowered her head, and continued in a hushed voice, "Plus, they're my family." The fact that her ethical values remained completely intact intrigued him. How could she care about the fact that it was wrong to hurt them? How could she when they tried to murder her? Thomas sighed, filled with indignation at her parents, they did not deserve her, they deserved a child worse than the prodigal son, but he had to forger his anger, at least for that moment, at least for Haven.
He looked at her for a long while, seeing all the pain inflicted on her as a mere reflection in her eyes, those eyes that were once filled with innocent exuberance. He hugged her then. It was such a simple gesture, and yet their proximity held more value than anything in the universe for Thomas. To him, it was not plausible how such a gentle soul like her could have experienced such treacherous things, because of him. That was what gnawed at him the most, what hurt the most when he was told she was dead. It was the fact that she suffered because of him. A heavy weight settled over Thomas's chest, and he began weeping along with Haven. Three years of separation, three years of torture, three long years that could never be undone.
Thomas sat by his window, staring at the stars that filled the night sky. He remembered the facetious way Haven had said three years ago,
"Go now, or else you'll never see me again." That was the last day he had seen her until tonight. Being with her again made him hope that they would have a new, better story that they would live, like a sequel in which all of the original story's problems would vanish. He hoped that one day the monstrous secrets of the Missirians would break through, and that they would be tried under the jusrisdiction of the supreme court, and sentenced to death. When that would happen, Thomas and Haven would celebrate by getting married. Yet, he knew that preposterous hope was unlikely. In fact, it was as the idea of the moon being made of cheese, it was impossible.
