Reviving Sawyer Gray

Strolls, Markets, and Chases

I had finally gotten to move to our  dream country, France. My boyfriend Sawyer and I had been talking about this day for years, and last year we found the perfect apartment in Nice and planned to move in around this time. Only this wasn't as amazing as I had expected it to be a year ago. I felt incomplete, a year ago I had my soulmate, now I just have a half-empty bed and a hollow heart.

Salty tears run down my face as I stand in the middle of my empty apartment. I have no motivation to decorate it, or even move furniture. Filling the walls with memories would only serve as a painful reminder of what could have been and doing what was our dream without my other half just felt wrong. Everything just felt wrong. I couldn't carry on my life without him, but I had to do something. My therapist said that it was best to carry on life as if nothing had happened. But something happened, something big, my boyfriend had jumped off a bridge, and I had no way of stopping it or even knowing that he was feeling that way. I thought everything was amazing, but apparently it wasn't, and the fact that he didn't trust me enough to tell me crushed me.

"I miss you, Sawyer," I mumble to myself, digging through my moving boxes trying to find a bowl. I am so hungry. Once I finally found a bowl I walked into my kitchen and made my quick oats. Eating it every meal every day was getting very jarring, I needed a change of pace. I should go out and buy something that isn't quick oats.

Walking to my foyer I grabbed my house keys, a light jacket, my phone, and I laced up my boots and set out. Walking down the long flight of stairs to get to the ground floor exit of my apartment building I used my hair scarf to tie my hair into a loose low ponytail, admiring how long my dark red-ish brown locks had gotten. Maybe acting as nothing had happened, and acting like an adult was what I needed, so I'm going to try it.

Opening the door to the street I was meet with a cool gust of wind, that made me smile, the trees across the street had started to change colors. Meaning autumn was approaching my favorite season. The trees against the old architecture of Nice made an amazing sight to see, and the wind made it feel just as striking. Taking a deep inhale I set one foot in front of another and went about my short walk to the local market

Arriving at the market filled with a large number of people I glanced around and took it all in. My fellow Parisians were dressed in colder weather apparel and looked as if they had just stepped out of a Vogue magazine. Even with my distracted mind I couldn't help but feel at ease among the relaxed environment. 

Stepping up to the fruit stand I collected some pears noticing that they are cheaper due to being in season. Handing the older gentlemen behind the stand some euros I continue on my way, taking in the sights and sounds of the calm market. Since it is late August the French children have all gone back to school, most of the tourists are gone, and the adult Parisians have gone back to work, making this Thursday afternoon market less busy. 

After finding the majority of the food I wanted and stashing it away in my cloth bags I found myself wandering through the aisles just looking around not wanting to return to my empty, depressing apartment. 

A rough hand grips onto my shoulder, only to push me out of the way and release me once again, stumbling to the ground I glance up to see 3 figures sprinting away quickly, two of them appear to be chasing the one in the front. They were pushing through the market and creating a large scene as various goods went everywhere. Sighing I turn back to the vendor in front of me and bid goodbye.

While taking a deep breath and turning back towards the direction of my apartment I notice another man who looks to be chasing behind the group sprinting my way, his dark brown hair messily covering his eyes, making them and his entire face above it hard to see. I almost don't see it, his resemblance to my dead boyfriend, but once I do I can't help but go sprinting after him. 

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Sawyer was known across Colorado, where we are originally from, for his track speeds. He had always been one of the fastest in the nation and was recruited for many college track teams. My quick and sharp breaths remind me of this as I chase after his fleeting silhouette, feeling the burn in my throat and lungs. I can't give up this, no matter how much my body wants to. Even though I can no longer see my boyfriend's tall figure I continue running in the direction they went hoping to catch up, but realistically knowing that it will never happen. 

Emerging in the main center of the city I slow to a face paced walk, knowing that I have really lost him now. I walk past this small alley when two arms reach and grab me. One on my waist dragging me to the perpetrator, the other over my mouth, so no one can hear me scream. 

I whirl around and send my elbow with all of the force I can muster into the person's private area, failing to break free as the person simply grunts and puts a wet towel over my mouth and nose. I have watched enough criminal minds to know to not breathe in whatever is on the towel, but what other choice do I have. I attempt to hold my breath, deep down knowing that I am going to pass out either way, but maybe if I only hold my breath I will wake up before they have tied me down. With that thought in mind, I let my brain grow foggy as my lungs scream for air and I feel myself go limp in the perpetrator's arms slipping into the darkness.