Ladybug [h.s.]

22

I stormed to my motorcycle, and climbed on, a combination of rage and deep seated pain rolling like lava through my veins. Delilah felt so unreachable; so painfully far away, I wished I could pull her in. Tie a rope around her ankle and reel her back down the earth. Turn up gravity like a radio dial to keep her on the ground beside me, instead of watching as she drifted like a balloon into the sky. She felt so far away. I'd grabbed my helmet angrily and shoved it onto my head, clasping the buckle, pinching the skin of my chin, and subconsciously tugging against the strap. And then I took off. Blind, and in pain, and searching for some kind of freedom. Some kind of remedy.

I didn't register that I was crying until I realized I couldn't really see. Until the lights were nothing but foggy blobs of color. I thought, for a moment, that I should pull over, but the last thing I needed was to look so goddamn weak in front of anyone. So, instead, I kept riding. Desperately pushing the speed limit in hopes that I could make it back to the ducks and to Drag sooner.

Except, the ducks made me think of Delilah, and the way her food was resting in their bowl this morning. And Drag made me think of Delilah, and the way they became immediately inseparable, the cat always lingering near her feet and brushing up against her legs. Fuck, home, made me think of Delilah, and seeing her beautiful face poke out from the front door in greeting. Catching whiffs of her smell while walking down the hallway. Hearing her laugh embedded in the wood floorboards. Painting dreams of waking up with her in my bed, cast golden with the morning glow of sunshine. Everything reminded me of Delilah, because Delilah was everything. Delilah is everything. Every beautiful, encapsulating, glorious celebration, every gut-wrenching, explosive, maddening destruction.

I was stopped at a red light, mulling over my other options. I could go to The Station, but Delilah was imprinted there, too. My eyes always drifting in search of her form sitting on that one stool like that night we reunited. I wouldn't dare go find the guys. Jack, maybe, but chances were he was on a date anyway. Dean and Cliff wouldn't dig. They'd piss me off, or give me shit, or ignore it entirely. I could have easily found trouble, but nothing in me wanted that. The hurt outweighed the anger, anyway. Fights were no fun when other emotions were at the forefront. So, I resorted to driving home anyway, despite the pain.

I should've realized the car following behind me, swerving drunkenly in the lane. But I was too in my head. I should've noticed that they'd run the last red light to catch up, as if they were coming for me. But I was staring into the light before my eyes, thinking of my bright red Ladybug and her glorious, spotted wings. I should've noticed that they weren't slowing down. That they were speeding up. I should've remembered that I was on my bike - that twenty miles per hour was detrimental. That I wasn't invincible. That I didn't have superpowers.

Sometimes the superhero has to die to save the girl.

I don't process getting hit, but I hear every second of it. Slow motion blur. Life flowing through molasses, excruciatingly slow. Each moment clear and never ending. Rolling on for an eternity, as I hear the crunch of the back bumper and watch as the world turns onto its side. My hands break away from the handlebars - I have no awareness of where my bike goes as it's flipped out from underneath me. The helmet knocks roughly against the curb before the rest of my body falls into the concrete. I hear a series of cracks and crunches, but I don't feel any pain, so it must have been the bike, or the other car.

My vision blurs a little but I blink it away, watching as the car speeds up even more, bouncing up and over the curb to crash roughly into a light post. Red and orange colors over my eyes and I try to nuzzle my head against the makeshift pillow beneath me as a heavy cloud of exhaustion drapes its blanket over my body. It hurts a little, then. A dull ache radiating throughout my body at the slight motion. I scan my eyes in search of my motorcycle, but all I can see is the red. The bike is nowhere to be found without physically moving, and everything is screaming inside of me to stay put. To close my eyes. To relax. To rest. To sleep.

I wish Delilah was here. She'd bury herself underneath my arm and cuddle up to my chest. Rest her head against the pillow curb beside mine. Take over her rightful home on top of my heart. One of her hands would cross my stomach to hold my opposite waist, protectively keeping me within her grip. The other would tangle in the hair above my ear, just like it would when we were little and wrestling in the grass. She'd probably nudge closer, lifting her chin to leave a handful of kisses against my cheek and jaw with a happy hum. She'd hold me. She'd keep me safe. I don't know if I feel safe right now.

A muffled siren blares through the air, disturbing my peace. Like a snoring dog, or the train rolling through town. It only gets louder, piercing against my head, as if the ground is vibrating under the sound. Earthquake of shrill chaos. I wince, trying to shrink away from it and letting my eyes fall shut as the red-orange is fogged over with bright, blinding red. It hurts to look at; throbs against the side of my head and rustles angrily through my body. My arm tries to move to cover over the light, but instead a cry of pain is ripped from my lungs. All of the air leaves with it, and suddenly I'm struggling to take in a breath, the weight of the whole world falling heavily onto my shoulders. Dropping on top of my chest to hold me firmly against the concrete.

My body screams every ounce of muffled pain that starts to make its way to the forefront. Headlights through the fog. Barreling beams of light, enticing and warm. Even with my eyes closed, I can see all of the crimson vibrancy surrounding me. Like it seeped beneath my eyelids and etched itself permanently there. Through the red, specks of black start to take over, morphing into spots dotting across my vision. Sprouting wings and taking off into flight. I take in a ragged breath, smile at the Ladybug fluttering through my mind, and relax fully into the black.

I've always been afraid of death, and what comes after. Always scared of not having the answers. Always terrified of losing the little I had. Always petrified of leaving too soon. Before I was ready. But, laying against the curb, all around me is peace. I'm not scared. I wasn't scared at all.

Death doesn't look like everyone says it does. It doesn't look like endless abyss and lurking demons hiding around corners. It looks...soft. Homey. A nice place to rest your head for the night.

Maybe this isn't death, and I've skipped right to Heaven. Paradise. A new home to extend across infinities of afterlife. I think this has to be Heaven, because she wouldn't be anywhere else. She could never be anywhere else. Sacred Nirvana. Maybe death isn't scary, after all, because all that extends before me is Heaven. I have her all around me. Maybe the unknown is held within her palms; master of all knowledge. Omnipotent goddess woman. Maybe Heaven isn't scary because I trust her to keep me safe, hanging desperately around her waist as she rides into red sunlight. Because I know she'll be with me, standing behind the front door with stroganoff on the stove and a pie cooling on the table. Because Heaven is love and love comprises her soul.

Heaven looks a lot like Delilah.

~~~~~~~~

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Thank you for being here, I love you with all of my heart and soul. One to go. Stay Gold.

See you later, alligator!