Eternity's Ending (our version of events) - Book One

Vincent

It's wrong for Xander to identify me as perfect when the memory that her muffled screams woke me from cast me in such a different light. If she knew me at all; if I let her know me at all then she would know perfect could never be a term used to describe me. I have allowed her to misconstrue my words. I have even gone as far as to present them in a way that guarantees they will be misinterpreted. This is why she looks at me the way she is looking at me now; as if I'm too good to be true.

"I'm not a perfect person, Xander," I emphasize.

Hidden deep within those words is an apology I cannot utter because "I'm sorry" is too weak to command forgiveness for what I did to her.

By the end of days spent performing for an audience of my peers and assuming whatever role was necessary to soften my father's wrath, I lacked the endurance needed to continue the act with Avery. We sat solemnly in the familiar hotel room, failing to pretend the world we inhabited was the only world there was. Avery's concern for me had been multiplying ever since I told him I was tired of waking up. My growing dejection in the weeks following the discussion forced him to raise his concerns with me.

"I'm losing you," the words nudged the silent air. "And please, don't....don't say you're fine because I don't want you to start lying to me on top of everything else."

He captured my thoughts before I had the opportunity to transition them into anything more.

"I'm watching you fall apart. No one else may care to notice but I do. I think it's pretty safe to assume the only time you're not drunk is when you're here with me?" he raises an eyebrow in search of an objection from me.

I lower my eyes to the floor because I cannot deny his accusations. I've made plans to be drunk immediately upon leaving his presence. Getting drunk enough to be whisked away from consciousness into a place where I didn't have to hate loving Avery so much had become my primary tool for survival. The bottle was waiting for me in my glove compartment.

"You're tearing at the seams; one heartbreak away from becoming completely undone and I can't do anything to fix you. I don't think anyone or anything else can."

"I'm too broken to be fixed," the truth leaked out of me.

We sat silently in the company of the truth we'd just uncovered.

"So maybe you should make your exit before I drag you down with me," the words left my head without permission.

I waited anxiously to see how Avery would react to them; I don't mean them but I won't take them back.

"I won't be the one to do it."

"Do what?"

"Break your heart for the last time."

A bittersweet relief runs through me. I needed Avery like the next beat of my heart. Without him, I was as good as dead. Still, if Avery wasn't going to be the one to do it, who would? Surely they would not be as merciful as he would be. I ponder this as well as what lies unspoken between us; that it will be done. My heart will be broken for the last time.

"Don't go without me," Avery whispers.

"I'm sorry?" I thought he was saying what I thought he was saying but it was not an assumption I wanted to make.

"If you decide it's time to say your goodbyes, don't make me someone you have to say goodbye to. I'll go; wherever you go. Heaven, hell or anywhere in between, I want to be there with you."

Avery takes my shaking hand in his and holds it to my chest before singling out my index finger.

"Cross your heart to take me with you when you leave," He draws an "x" on my chest and waits for me to confirm.

I want to tell him I will not do it. I cannot make such a promise but as I watch is eyes flood with tears, I decide I won't be the one to break his heart, at least not right now. I nod yes but we both know I am only telling him what he wants to hear. His lips are in my ear and the tears he started crying transfer from his cheek to mine.

"Don't go," he cries.

But I won't make another promise I have no intention of keeping.

"Please don't go."

I fight to stand firm against his pleas until he relents.

"Then please, don't go without me."

I'm lost in the memory of the promise I didn't keep when Xander's voice finds me.

"Where are you?" she asks.

"I'm right here."

"You want me to stop calling you perfect?"

"I just don't want you to be disappointed if you ever realize I'm not," I say.

"I don't expect you to be perfect Vincent, it's just...well you are. And as much as I love to take credit for every good thing, your perfection has nothing to do with me."

I don't know how to tell her how wrong she is without having to completely untangle the web of deceit I've spun. She has taken my reference to perfection exactly as I intended but not at all how I meant it. But how do I say those words to her? Would she ever be able to forgive me for the circumstances surrounding my need to be perfect for her? No, she won't. I convince myself once more that I am beyond redemption. Such a state declares the futility of revealing the truth to her and begging her pardon. Instead of risking her, I will continue about the business of changing who I used to be so when I say I'm perfect for her, I can mean it in the same way she takes it.

"What if I just call you "P"?" she asks, sticking her tongue out at me.

I wrestle her onto her back and try to erase the memory of the guilt from my mind.