Profound Dark Heart

Too Late

He had been too late. Tristan held her bloody body in his arms. As he watched her weaken, his heart died just as slowly. They stared at each other; green inhaling black. He could see the light slowly fading from her eyes; the dull green roaring alive, concealing the vibrant emerald. Every now and then, he would see her face scrunch up in pain. The anguish might have been from the way he was shaking, maybe from the lacerations, maybe the rough concrete of the basement on her legs, maybe from the discomfort of slowly fade from the world - he doesn't know what is causing the pain, but he wanted it to stop it. He needed to stop it. But he just could not. He hated to see her like this, especially knowing that it was his fault. He caused this. He was too slow. He was too late. It was all his fault. And by the Gods' mercy, he was sorry. He doesn't even deserve mercy. It was his fault that she was dying. His fault.

He never noticed he was crying until she reached up and wiped away the rushing tears. The hand that had touched his face was colder than her usual warmth. He turned his head and kissed her palm. He wished he could feel her heated skin, once again. Now it was just eerily chilling how cold her skin was.

Tristan wished that he could hear that light, soft laugh as he always did when he kissed her palm. When he looked at her face, he wished that he could see that becoming blush, instead of pale, blood speckled face. The blood trickling down the corner of her soft lips made his own lips tremble. She was almost gone. He held her hand tightly as he cradled her body in his arms. It was going to hold on to the last few minutes he might ever have with her.

Help wasn't coming fast enough.

She was the first to speak. "I love you, Tristan," she whispered. She sounded so weak, so empty. At the moment, he still saw the fragile looking, open-hearted girl that he fell in love with in front of him but he could tell that he was losing that girl by every second that was passing. Every second that help wasn't coming. Every second she leaving.

"I want you to be happy, so smile." With eyes filled with tears, she smiled. That angelic smile made he heart race, even as hers deteriorated. That grin was the only thing keeping him sane at the moment. It amazed him that she was so calm at the moment while he felt like a psychopath.

He smiled for her. He knew she knew that her time was up and she wanted to leave seeing him smiling one last time. He was going to grant his angel with her last wish. His beautiful Kat goddess.

"I love you too, Kat." He tried to be strong for her but he felt weak inside. His inner strength was crumbling as well as the rest of him. It was killing him.

He wished he could tell her how sorry he was. But he just let his eyes say it while his heart cried and ache as much as his eyes.

He had watched as she closed her eyes for the last time, never to open again. He would never see those eyes that were a rich green. They reminded him of a cat's, even though her's was more beautiful. The movies never tell you how their eyes open back up, as if they're a different person. Tristan knew he wasn't looking at his Kat, now. Those eyes became desolated. The hand that he held was truly cold and the body in his lap was lifeless. He was already missing the warmth of the slender fingers as they touched him, the body that warmed him.

"No, don't do this to me," Tristan sobbed. When the time came to finally let go, he couldn't. He wasn't ready to do so. "Don't leave me here alone." He cried into her neck wanting to feel the pulse there. Wanting to feel her pulse quicken once more if he kissed her there. Instead, it deserted. Her limp body weighted nothing in his arms. Her breaths ceased. He felt his breath caught in his throat as the realization, the reality of it all finally hit him. She was dead. . . and it was all HIS fault.

He cried his pain out to the world, yelling, and screaming and crying. "KATRICE, WHY DID IT HAVE TO BE YOU?!" he cried. "I CAN'T LIVE WITHOUT YOU!" He cried and shouted some more. He wanted to let the world feel his pain and suffering right now. He wanted to feel this pain; after all, it was his fault. The last thing she felt was pain. Now it was his turn. He lost the one girl that made him feel. The one girl that he loved more than any other. He doubted that he would ever feel the same about any other girl.

The ambulance came minutes later - minutes too late - and he just sat there, numbly, as they came thundering down the steps to the basement, took her from his arms, declared her dead; as the police tried asking him what happened - even if he could answer, he wouldn't. They might think he was crazy - even as his parents came to pick him up, they all gave him pity looks. He loathed that expression. Tristan even heard some talk about if he could have done this to her. He just sat there with a stained face that reminisced his tears and a useless, hoarse voice.

He felt as if his insides had been ripped out and all that reminded was his cold, unbeating heart.

* * *

I know that this was really sad but it did catch your interest, right?
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-DMBW