Caution: Heartbreak Ahead

Return

Return by _Silena_

Re·turn
verb: to come or go back to a place or person.

"Idiot... Come back to me, okay?
"I will, I promise. And I always keep my promises."
He was all dressed up for war, duffel bag slung carelessly over his shoulder, sunglasses perched on head. He was leaving, but he would come back. He always came back. He promised, and that was all that mattered to me.
We had been so happy together, our relationship filled with the sweetest of memories. But, as they say, everything good will eventually end, and he left. Drafted into the army, about to embark on a journey to no-man's-land, also known as the battlefield. I didn't want to live without him, yet I struggled on, day by day, every day without him feeling like an eternity.

The first time he came back, his arm was in a sling. "Broke my arm," he said, sheepishly. "I was lugging the tent and I decided to heave it over my shoulder. Worst idea ever."
I didn't mind, because he was home, safe and mostly sound. He stayed until his arm healed, and then the generals called for him again. "The best shooter we have," they announced, as if praise would make up for the emptiness he would leave in my life. And so he left again, back to the vicious, every-man-for-himself place they call the battlefield.

Next he had been injured severely, lost his right pinky finger to a rebel's bullet. That time, he stayed for a few months, and I was happy again. He was a candle in the darkness, and that was enough for me. He was back home. Once his finger had "healed," they asked for him. Still the best shooter, even with one finger missing. Not really having a choice, he went with them, and I became a shadow, nothing more than a lost girl.

The third time, it wasn't him, but a few soldiers and one general. They told me that he was MIA; gone. They praised his deeds, and a soldier passed me a sacrifice medal. I clutched the medal to my chest as if it were a talisman, tears streaming down my face, even after they were gone. MIA, missing in action. He was gone, gone for an undetermined amount of time.
A few months later, a soldier came. Behind him was a familiar humanoid shape, and the soldier smiled at me and left. He was back; amazingly, he had returned.
"Told you I'd come back, didn't I? I promised. I never break my promises."
"Idiot."
"Love you too."

The last time he left was only for his tour of duty. After it was finished, he would be free. Would come back home forever.
"I'll come back to you," he promised, a smile in his voice. But he didn't. I stood at the window every day, looking for his beat-up Buick to turn around the corner. His old truck, which we used to drive around in. When we would roll down the windows and blast the music, not caring if people stared. Back when I was genuinely happy, back before this whole war business started. Back when he was always at my side.
I prayed to God, to his angels, to every divine spirit, asking them to keep him safe. They didn't hear me.
I begged anyone who would listen to keep him safe, to lead him back home. Nobody heard me. Nobody cared. The wizards were too busy fighting dragons, the heroes occupied in saving the world.
He didn't return; I could only find him in my dreams. Dreams of our past, when we had true love. Love, which I had lived without for years. Love, which became my ultimate undoing.
I locked myself in our apartment, curled up in his old hoodie, trying to pretend that he was there with me. I was left alone in the cruel world, without him.

Without him, my heart turned to glass and it shattered.
Without him, I was broken, just half of a whole.
Without him, I died inside, nothing more than a figment of a girl.
Without him, my life was not worth living.
Without him, I couldn't live.

Because Parker Lee was the only person who made me feel alive.