Outcasts

Part II: Chapter 14

Lucinda

When I wake the next morning, I am surprised that he is still asleep.

“Nathan, wake up.”

But he wont wake.

I shake him a bit to get him up.

And then I notice how cold he is. I check his pulse.

Nothing.

Panic seizes me, and I shake him manically.

“Nathan. Nathan! Nathan! Oh my God! Nathan!”

My eyes brim over with tears as I cry for him to wake. But he never does. At last I stop. I turn away and bury my face in my pillow, as it will make this go away.

Okay, I tell myself, when I open my eyes everything should be okay again. This is just a horrible nightmare.

So I open my eyes, only to see that Nathan’s corpse is as real as ever. And hysteria takes over. I don’t know when I dialled the number. I just remember hearing sirens. Somewhere in nonsensical babble I get them to understand what had happened. I don’t even notice that I’m still naked until one of the paramedics hand me a robe.

Everything goes by so fast after that. I just think the same thing over and over.

He’s dead. He’s dead. He’s dead. Oh God, he’s dead! Nathan is dead!

Time passes and days blur together. Next thing I know, I’m being told it was a poisoning.

That night he refused to eat! That’s why he finally ate in the end! He commit suicide!

Again hysteria seizes me. Time goes by so quickly. Days turn to weeks. Weeks turn to months. I barely eat. I barely sleep. I sob for what feels like days. I just sob until the tears turn red. And I weep tears of blood until all I can do is vomit. My life, my purpose, my love is gone. The love of my life was gone. I am nothing.

Some time later, a neighbour comes to check on me. I feel unjustifiable fear take me as I hear the knock on the door. I find a knife for protection and answer the door. He doesn’t even get a word out.

Red.

Everything is red.

Nathan is dead.

Now this person is dead too.

Why am I still alive?

I don't remember a lot. I feel as though I had blacked out.

I push myself up, and suddenly notice the body that had been lying beside me. When I see the bloodied clothes it wears, I become aware of the knife gripped tightly in my hand.

And then I notice how much my fists hurt.

And my head.

And every other part of my body.

I killed that man.

I glance once more at the body to see the face of the man I have killed.

The man no longer has a face.

He did at one point, but now it is either too swollen, or perhaps there are pieces of it spread around, and stuck to the knife I grip so tightly.

Mechanically, I take the body. I wrap it in a sheet and take it away. I take it far away. I don’t even remember where. And I leave it there.

I can't tell if I am feeling any sort of emotion. I just know I want to leave. I want to be far away from the faceless body in front of me. I feel out of control of my own body as it begins to move.