Dying Twice

Dying Twice

The sky is an endless canvas of impenetrable darkness. Tonight, the stars take to hiding beneath the covers of ink black, unwilling to provide the slightest glimmer of illumination during the night. Your eyes are weary, yet you walk on. It is the subconscious overwhelming your mind, controlling your every move. You're here, dragging your feet aimlessly like a mindless zombie. It seems now that your regular strolls in the silence of the night are out of habit rather than anything else. In your lethargy, you almost forget the reason why you haunt this very place every night, at the same precise hour. You are waiting- for a lover who will never come back.

You hear the leaves rustle as a gentle breeze sweeps through the trees on this serene night. The air kisses your cheek comfortingly, attempting to console you. You sigh deeply as you remind yourself, painfully, that she is no longer here to offer companionship on this beautiful night. You walk on and notice an oak. It is a peculiar one, for it stands far taller than any of its neighbours, backed up by a sturdy impregnable trunk worn with battle scars- scars of true love. This was her favourite spot. She used to take you there every night, at this very exact time, to luxuriate in your presence. She would scrape the bark of the oak tree with childish words and pictures to mark the love you both shared. You used to laugh at the immaturity of it all, but you look back and realise, that love couldn't be described in flowery, profound words. You run your fingers over the carved words and memories slam into you like a tidal wave. You remember how she confessed, with her cheeks blushing and her eyes locked with yours, that she loved you more than anything in the world. And you remember how you embraced her, how you whispered to her sweet nothings- because you loved her so much more.

You dread to remember the night she left you, and the world that loved her so much. And you remember, in excruciating agony, how she screamed your name before the knife silenced her forever, but you were too late. You wish you could turn back time, to go back to that fateful night and turn everything around. You should have been there, you scream at yourself hysterically, but no voice escapes from your lips. The night she left, you felt dead. You think to yourself, you probably literally died that day. The emptiness inside you killed you from inside out. It kills you to this very day.

The placidity of the night is shattered by brisk pounding footsteps. You know it isn't you. You know it couldn't be her. She's dead. Yet, those footsteps... they sound so familiar. It triggers an alarm in your mind and you instinctively break into a run, but you still can't put your finger on it. You know you've heard them before, and you hate yourself for not knowing. You just don't remember.

You don't know where you're going. You don't really care anymore. You feel afraid. You sense you're being watched as the footsteps advance towards you like wolves stalking a vulnerable prey. You don't dare to turn around. It was far too risky.

Without warning, a cold searing metal blade slices your back. You try to scream in agony but your words are muffled by the intensifying pain. Your skin burns. The stench of death is weighing down on you. You try to fight back, but you can't. It hurts too much. A second later, you are released from the blade's torturous duty. You fall to the ground and your eyes start to close. You mumble your lover's name. You miss her so much more now. You wish she was with you.

You struggle to have a glance at the knife-bearer. Time stopped for a moment. As you scanned the man's face etched with madness and psychotic glee, you could hear the pounding footsteps in your ears again. You gasp in shock. You remember who he is.

Now, you struggle with the agony eating into your flesh and bones. And somehow, you feel every moment she went through a few seconds before she died- how the blade clawed at her skin mercilessly, tyrannically. It is the same blade, you tell yourself. You know this was the blade stained with her blood. You can feel her blood being forced into your own. This was the man that killed her.

You are left to the peace of the night to await your death. And you remember how it feels like, to die again.

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