knock on wood | howlett

xxv. here

hurt by johnny cash

"WHEN DEATH CAPTURES ME, HE WILL FEEL MY FIST IN HIS FACE."
-THE BOOK THIEF

they'd just left the cabins when she staggered. colossus caught her by the arm and held her waist with his other hand.

her skin flushed and her knees wobbled.

"colossus, we need to go to the fence. please," she begged. "i need to see it, before..." she trailed off.

"yes, yes," colossus said. a strong sickness burrowed itself in his stomach as they closed the distance to the fence.

it was rusted, fallen, and overgrown in places. the fence wasn't nearly as belittling as it once was.

the apple trees were just beyond it. the farmer walked toward his house and suddenly a wave of memories threatened to drown her:

logan was eating apples as she drew him. she signed the paper and handed it to him through a hole in the tangled metal.

another:

he was tossing an apple and catching it, over and over again. then his eyes landed on her. he ran toward the fence, climbing it and attending to her burnt neck. he saved her that day.

yet, another. this one was cloudy, fragments of words.

"scar... apple cutter... mace... barbaric.."

colossus set her in the grass, six feet from the fence. she felt his cool skin and was dragged back to her confining reality.

she was dying.

all at once, yet gradually over weeks, she was dying.

she laid back into the grass and stared at he grey sky. it wasn't blue from earlier, or orange from the night before; it was grey and emotionless.

why had the sky cried for her the eve of her death and yet remain action-less, speechless, and emotionless when faced with her present fate?

colossus sat beside her in the grass.

she hadn't noticed until she looked into his eyes that he was crying. a metal man with muscles the size of her torso was breaking in front of her.

he'd promised himself he wouldn't break until it was over, until she was over.

but here he was, breaking and crying in front of her. she extended a feeble hand and touched his cold cheek.

"colossus," she whispered. she reached into his consciousness, into his soul and spirit.

she, truthfully, hadn't expected to find such complexities among his hidden emotions. yet one memory seemed the most painful.

he was young, nine or ten years old, and he was standing in front of another boy his age. colossus was human at this point.

colossus leaned forward and kissed the boy in spite of himself. colossus pulled away, turned around, and found his father had been watching this entire time.

his father pulled a hand back and slapped colossus.

beck reached into this memory, twisted it and contorted it into joy and happiness. it was the first time she ever made good from bad.

she forced his father to say,

"peter, i love you regardless."

instead of,

"you are a disgrace to our name!"

she let the memory join the rest. beck fell back into reality. her stomach wrenched. colossus wiped his tears.

"it's okay, peter," she said. he squeezed his eyes tightly. "one more time, last time," she said and dived into his memories.

this one was fresh, a mirror image of what was happening in this moment in time. she saw herself; she saw the life slipping from her eyes.

she contorted the memory, twisted and ringed it out between her hands.

before she could see the final product, though, she slipped. beck's soul slipped on itself and on the flooding memories from both her and colossus. her hands couldn't save her.

she fell inside herself and the life slipped from her eyes.

beck lay among the wild grass, her eyes half open and her mouth opened in mid-exhale. she was still holding colossus's cheek when she died.

colossus grabbed her withered biceps. he knelt over her and cradled her body in his lap. her lifeless hand fell from his face. beck's eyes resembled the sky: emotionless and grey.

"please," he begged her body, "you owe me favor." colossus sobbed.

he squeezed his eyes tightly and tears fell from his cheeks to hers. colossus's quaking hands helped her eyes and mouth to close.

he stood and looked at her.

colossus turned and ripped flowers from the earth. he stole the most vivid lavender sprigs and dandelions. he plucked daisies from their roots and tulips from their stems.

he placed them around her body and in her hair, among her fingers, and tucked behind her ears.

he looked at her now and he exhaled.

a sad contentment washed over him. a wave of bitter peace brought him to the car. he glanced at her socks left in a neat ball on the seat.

it was time.

her soul was tired of fighting and it was time.