Nights of Insomnia

Night 5

heart·break

ˈhärtˌbrāk/

noun

noun: heartbreak; plural noun: heartbreaks

overwhelming distress.

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"First, you think the worst

is a broken heart.

What's gonna kill you

is the second part."

-6 degrees of separation, The Script

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Little did I realize that I was living in the blissful calm before the storm. The storm of grief, of pain, and of dispair.

Little did I realize my life could take a turn for the worse with one little phone call.

Little did I realize that just like that my little, peaceful paradise could be ruined.

Little did I realize that John wouldn't be a permenant fixure.

Little did I realize how affected I would be by John's death.

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"No, no, no." I whispered, rocking back and forth. My frail arms were wound tight against my equaly tiny legs. My tearducts have finally dried up, and my body felt numb. My fingers were white from squeezing too hard, but if I didn't then they would shake horribly. "No, no,no." Those were the only words it seemed I was capable of saying. I looked up at the stars, begging for an answer. An answer to what I wasn't sure. I didn't even hear George or Barbra as they came from behind me and wrapped their arms around me.

"It's okay sweet-cakes. John is up there, he's brightened each and every star. Just for you." I shook my head so hard it could've cracked. I would've welcomed that.

"Why couldn't he do it from here?" I begged before burying my head into my arms, sobs racking my malnourished body. My cheeks were hallow and red, my eyes puffy and weighed down with permanent bags. Not eating or sleep has taken it's toll, for now my clothes are hanging off my body from being too large. George tsked and squeezed my side.

"You just gotta trust that he'll never leave you. You gotta." His cigar puffed smoke and I inhaled his familiar scent and relyed on it to keep me grounded.

"Why?" I questioned, lifting my head to search his old, saddened eyes. They held no answer I liked so I dropped my head, as if my neck wasn't strong enough to hold my head up for longer than a second.

"Vous devez croire en lui , mon cher." Barbra told me in a saddened voice. I didn't bother to ask her the meaning, for I was just too tired to do so.

"Take a walk with us for a second, mon cher." Barbra and George stood together and waited patiently as I looked at them with dispairing eyes. Finally I grapped George's waiting hand. He pulled me up and Barbra smiled at me encourgingly. Before I would've smiled at Barbra's nickname for me, mon cher, translated into 'my dear'. But I wasn't her dear. I was a mere shell, an echo of who I used to be. I sniffled and didn't let go of George's strong grip. It comforted me. The stars gleamed down on us and I wondered if they were like me.

"George." I tugged on his hand while standing still.

"Yes doll?" I pointed at the stars.

"Do you see them?" I asked. Barbra smiled at me and spoke in her heavy French accent.