Always - short story

1

“This weighs heavily

our hell described here as heavenly

comfort for those who don't live a day in our shoes...” 

As the subway train sped by, the cold Chicago wind blew into the cracks of its windows and brought in an awful stench. The cold air brushed away the girl’s bangs that had clung to her tear-stained cheeks, sending shivers through her body. She wiped away her dried tears and looked away from the icy window, wanting to teleport back home as quickly as possible.

But where was her “home”? As she bit down on her chipped fingernails, she began to realize how foreign everything felt to her now. Although she’d lived in the city for more than three months now, suddenly she’d forgotten what it felt like to trust everything around her and just – belong.

She held herself for a moment, realizing that there was no one else around, except for her and a drunken man at the back of the train car. She sunk back and sniffled. She closed her eyes again and hoped that when she opened them, she’d be home – wherever that was. 

When she closed her eyes, she expected blackness. Instead she saw everything she didn’t want to see, and heard everything she thought she’d forgotten.  Every intricate detail, every vivid memory played in her head, and she felt like she was falling. 

The first memory that flashed in her mind was the scene she’d come across in the last hour. Her heart had been beating unevenly and even now, her heart began to race. 

She was walking slowly, but her chest pounded like she’d run the whole way there. She stuck closely to the wall and grasped it, as though she could prevent it from falling over.  She crept towards a door-less room, taking her time with each step.

Then there was a crash.

“Damn it all!” a boy exclaimed. She knew whose voice it belonged to. She closed her eyes and turned on her heel. Should she just leave now? Was there any point in coming at all? Maybe it was too late. 

Her heart suddenly felt heavy in her chest and she knew she had to turn back. Inch by inch, she forced herself forward, sucking in air as she braced herself for the worst. 

When she opened her eyes, everything seemed to have grown darker. She peeked from behind the doorway, a shadow emerging in the poorly lit room. She knew whom the shadow belonged to – but as if to make sure, she gazed intensely at the crouched figure. She had to make sure that that golden-brown hair was his; that the silver band on his finger was his; and that those wet, emerald eyes were his.

Her eyes widened as she saw his hand streaming blood. His arm lay clenched on his side. His body didn’t cringe, but she knew he was hurting. She wanted to run to him, hug him, comfort him, heal him – but she stopped at the threshold, making the slightest noise as glass crunched under her feet.

He looked up. “Vera.” 

The sound of her name in his voice brought shivers up her spine. Suddenly she remembered it all – the good and the bad moments they had together, everything that had brought her here in the first place.

“I’m sorry, for everything. I never meant to hurt you, I never meant for this to happen to us. Please, forgive me. Please don’t leave me. I promise I won’t leave you again- ”

She held unto the doorframe and took in small breath –

Suddenly her whole body was sent to the right, against a wall that she was thankful had been placed beside her. A voice boomed above her, an apologetic conductor informing all passengers of an accident up ahead.

The doors behind the wall slid open and she felt disoriented. She wasn’t sure if she was meant to leave or not; what had the conductor said again? Did he say they’d be going forward onto the tracks?

She brought herself up slowly and looked up at the drunk at the end of the car, snoring carelessly with his beanie pulled down past his eyes. He seemed so free-minded, she figured, knowing he had no real place to go, no real intentions for the indefinite future ahead of him…

Just like her. 

She sat back down and leaned back against the cold window. The doors slid closed and the engine pulled them forward, bringing them wherever it was it was taking them.

When she closed her eyes, she didn’t feel like remembering anything any longer. Instead, she slipped into slumber, hoping that if she was supposed to get off the train, perhaps her death up ahead would be quick and easy.

The drunk snorted loudly in the distance, reminding her that at least she wouldn’t be alone if she died.