To the Edge
Love is a funny thing. Actually, it is rather a comedic bastard, making fun of those who have been blessed with its gift. What is so hilarious and almost ironic about love is that it is quite simple. We, as humans, just insist on making it complicated. Complicated is a rather loose term for it, because when someone swallows a bullet after a break up it was not because things were simply “complicated.” We, instead make it so that love is not rational, nor a product of sanity. It became an invaluable cure for the ill in heart. It takes a sick heart, makes it feel as if everything is okay again, and then yanks the rug right out from under it. It is strange how love is ultimately the best thing that will ever happen to you, because it won’t let you fall for whom you’d like. It may take your spirit and rip it to shreds, but it heals the soul after hope is lost. Simply, it drives you fucking insane. This is why I am telling you this story. I should warn you now; this is not your “complete opposites fall in love bullshit.” It is a love story, yes, but it’s one developed in complete darkness. See, I was pushed to the very edge of insanity. A place only few ever truly see, how I got back, now that is truly heroic. You must believe me when I say that I never wanted anything to happen to him. But all heroes need an origin, right?
I didn’t have those cute butterflies in my stomach when I saw him for the first time. Instead, a pit grew there. You know the ones you get when you’re waiting for a jump scene in a horror film? He wasn’t ugly, but he sure as hell wasn’t an Abercrombie model either. He was like a work of art. Not chiseled like a statue, but like one of those abstract face paintings that scared the hell out of you as a child. I was intrigued and frightened while studying him from afar at my locker. His dark brown hair was tangled in a sea of waves that came past his ears. His face was clearly not shaven, but it didn’t bother me. He wasn’t smiling, but rather smirking, as if he was up to no good. As he walked down the hall I studied his build, average height, but well built. I felt myself admiring him, as his body moved closer to mine; I was so mesmerized that I didn’t realize he had stopped walking. Sharply, I looked up, and met his eyes. Oh, those eyes! Glowing green, like a black cat! So full of rage, and charm. He was about five feet away from me, just looking at me. The frightened feeling I had been experiencing faded. All that was left was my admiration. As if he sensed the dramatic change of heart he walked over to me. His face was so close to mine I could hear him breathing. Hot, heavy breath puffed against my neck.
“I can tell we are about to embark on an adventure.” He leaned in and whispered.
Today marks three years since the day I met him. From the moment our eyes met, something changed in me. Something began to grow. We didn’t go on normal dates like the other couples in my school. While everyone was seeing the latest b-flick horror, we were in his basement, talking. Yes, just talking. Our conversation ranged from us arguing about whose favorite band is better to how to kill someone and leave no evidence. That basement became my safe haven. Neither of us had a lot of friends, and when we started dating, well, we lost what little we did have. We were inseparable. Desperately inseparable. Both of us locked in our bond of brokenness. We knew everything about each other, but never had any of those awkward silent moments. It was quite terrifying how we could have the same damn conversation over and over again, and not get bored.
One particular afternoon, as we laid upon his bed, sprawled over each other, he raised and interesting topic.
“Do you think I am a product of evil?” he whispered.
I wasn’t shocked at by this. I knew exactly what he was referring too. You see, a few years back he beat a kid to death, buried his body in a forest, and ran away from home to live here. When he first told me about this, I wanted to run and hide, but something forced me to stay. He explained to me that he had felt no remorse, and he would be more than glad to do it again. Like any normal person, this scared me, but I stayed with him because he told me he didn’t want to feel this way. Call me crazy but I took that as a sign of hope. Fast forward a bit in my story and pretty much no hope was left. Whatever this darkness inside of him was, it was growing, and hungry for more. He began using heroine to suppress his feelings, shooting up to the point of unconsciousness became the norm. I really began to lose hope, however, when he talked me into becoming like him. Addiction settled into my daily routine, as if it had always been there. Slowly the old me faded deeper and deeper into the darkness. But still I saw that glow in his eyes, the something in him that kept me going. I saw a hint of good in him, so I held on, basically for dear life. Each day passed like a year. Each night slipped by like a second. Every day it was the same thing.
“Do you love me?” he would whisper.
“I’ll never stop.” I would reply.
It only ever changed once. Early one morning, I was awoken to the smashing of various objects, and his primal screams of pain. Through my dazed eyes I saw my love strung out of his mind, numb to the world around him. I stood up, and placed my hand on his shoulder. My action had scared him, as he abruptly shoved me. For a moment I just sat there and stared at him. He had never hit me before, never. After flinging a vase across the room, he sat down, needle in hand. I didn’t dare move. All I could do was watch. It was only ten minutes, you must understand. Just ten minutes from the moment the needle broke his skin to the moment he hit the floor. His body vibrated, foam poured from his mouth. With every second he grew more and more pale. For just a split second, I thought of leaving him there. Within the same second, I snapped out of it, lurched forward, and slammed my fists onto his chest. He coughed and gasped vigorously, spitting blood onto the floor. After coming back to reality he looked up at me. He didn’t say a word, but his eyes looked so guilty. I’ll never forget that look. Hours passed as we just sat there. No speaking. Not staring.
“Save me. Please.” He whispered.
“What?” I said, startled by the sudden noise.
“I can’t live like this anymore. I see the way you look at me. I see the hurt in your eyes,” he sniffled as a tear rolled down his cheek, “please save me from this.”
I stayed quite for a few moments. I had nothing to respond to anymore. I felt broken down, withered, beaten, raw, and worst of all; numb to the world. I was becoming what I feared most. Suddenly I had a terrifying realization; the pit in my stomach had never gone away. I had just grown so used to it that it felt almost normal. I had become him. I knew what I had to do.
“I’ll save us both.” I whispered back.
The night was calm, dry air filled the basement. I wept softly in the corner as I watched my true love sleeping. The cold metal sent shivers up my legs, but my hands were too shaky to hold the piece. I tried to collect myself, but I knew it wouldn’t happen. Without a sound I rose up from the corner and began to make my way to the bed. When I reached the edge, I stopped. He looked so peaceful. I smiled, knowing I was about to give him an eternal peace. I crawled under the covers with him. He awoke and smiled, pulling me in closer.
“I’m going to save us,” I whispered, “I couldn’t think of any other way to express just how much I love you. I want you to know that. I’m making this sacrifice for us.”
He smiled against my chest, as I moved my hand out from behind my back and pushed the gun against his skull.
“All I ever wanted was to be your hero.” I wept, letting my tears fall onto his face.
“You’re safe now.” I smiled, pulling the trigger.
The silence that followed the bang will be something I never forget. The feel of his blood trickling all down my chest will forever haunt me. True love brought me to the edge of insanity, and then pushed me to a point of no return. You may say that what I did was cruel, but you are mistaken. He was a victim, trapped in his own mind. He brought me down with him, into the depth of darkness. He was not good, but he was not evil. I sacrificed our love, so that it may live on forever through his death. Heroes make sacrifices.
You see, I never wanted anything to happen to him. But from his blood, I rise, hero among heroes.
