Hello there, Reality

Preamble

He was always there, waiting for me patiently by the rocks. It was no secret hideout or getaway from reality, but it was a candid place which made us feel afresh and rejuvenated each time we visited. In class, we'd make a slight gesture or leave a clue for each other to let them know that either of us was going to be passing by the rocks and if the other wanted to join in, they were welcome to. Sordidly, it was I who'd made the suggestion this time. It had been approximately three months since our last meet up and the idea of leaving my bedroom to have the ability to use an old, yet sturdy bucket to reach the rocks with some masking tape and a little of rope was far more tempting than staying inside. Certainly, the fights that my mother and father were having were another cause of my urge to leave the amusement park that I called my home. It was endless. Neither knew when was the right time to butt out and so that left only one option, they'd fervently argue until one or the other decided to take the big step and leave the rest of the party behind.

Our routine was special. He would be there first, always bare-foot. I'd exclaim an utterance or two in disbelief that he hadn't bothered to put any shoes and socks on again and he'd release a small sigh holding his hand out to me to take. He would kiss the crown of my forehead or rub my scalp with his fingers as he'd always sense the oncoming headache I was to experience even before I did. I'd always implode and call him sensitive when he'd show affection like that towards me and we'd share a bout of warm laughter for a while.

We never spoke to each other in school because we didn't want to destroy what we had between us. We'd watched in silence as pair after pair would break it off in front of a large audience of hormonal adolescents, because the attention they were being paid by school staff and their peers had gotten to them. It was unsurprising really what with all of the chit and chat everyone made each day. We'd grown accustomed to ignoring each other even at the local supermarket, even if no one from school was around. I fathom that we were ridiculously happy with the position we were in without any nosy noses running around us as if we were the tissues to their boogers.

As I climb over the wooden stile, I notice that the grass is longer than usual. It was Autumn which always signalled that the local gardener would be out in the field trying to tame the disobeying grass, year after year. He must either be unwell or busy if he hasn't gotten round to his favourite job of the year. If the grass was too long, the community would go berserk when my next door neighbour, Alison, threw her annual Cake Baking competition. The elderly found it difficult to meander through a field thick with long, unwavering grass and those with broken ligaments would have to be excused, and if someone didn't turn up, Alison would pay them a personal visit to pry out an excuse. She's the type of person who likes to get her own way. I'll just have to warn Jerry, the gardener, before Alison blows a bulb.

As I slid down the slope of the grassy field, caking my pyjamas in dirt and mud, I thought about how much I've been missing my beloved and how I couldn't wait to pester him with my ability to annoy anyone around me. I think I am ready to talk of the future with him: perhaps we should start talking in public and smile at each other when we exchange glances in school hallways.

As I took my last stride towards the hilltop where the rocks had been scattered around like tiles on a mosaic, I told myself to be courageous and follow through with my desire for us to be together in front of the town, even if it meant risking the frustrating gossiping and the loitering around us. I want for us to be a unit in the eyes of others, otherwise I fear that our relation will never truly be real. It's silly, I know, but when you're concealing a relationship, you start to wonder if it really is something when the passionate and enduring nature of a couple stays between two.

The gusty wind picked up as my scuffed trainers landed on a bramble causing a crackling sound. A black bird on a beech tree waggled its backside at me for causing such a racket. It disapproved of me being here.. I took that as my cue to leave the premise and grabbed the upturned bucket to lower myself down to I and my beloved's secret place.

He was laying down on the earthy ground with his eyes closed firmly shut. It was all I could make of his appearance from afar. For a moment, I stood fixed in place, just staring at his serene expression. I just wish he was always this peaceful, in sync with the calm atmosphere.

"Hey," I called out. He didn't reply; it was most probably the wind at fault for that. It had been picking up intensely as I'd covered the last few metres to get to my desired location. I could surprise him, that would be entertaining. He was easy to scare. I'd once ambushed him by the rocks when he'd been day-dreaming and he'd shrieked as if he'd accidentally swallowed the hairiest fly in the world.

I tap his chin as I rest on my knees beside his form. He does not budge. I poke his cheek this time; it feels cold. I shake my head, "Why do you never dress warmly?"

I wait for a sarcastic comeback, but there is none. I start to fret and lower my head so that my earlobe is touching the fabric of his shirt through which I should be able to hear his heartbeat. The rhythmic 'lub and dub' that the heart makes cannot be heard. My stomach shrivels up and the urge to vomit the bolus in my throat becomes apparent when I check the pulse in his wrist. There is not even the slightest of beats. Perhaps it was just me and his heart was beating, but I wasn't checking for the heartbeats correctly or thoroughly. A whimper escapes from my mouth as I shake his lifeless body. He doesn't fight me and tackle me to the ground like he normally does.

There was only one horrifying explanation for his state: he'd passed away because he must've fallen asleep by the powerful lull of the wind.

He'd frozen.

He'd moved on because I'd called him here knowing that he would come bare-foot as always and underdressed even though the weather forecast had been firmly stating the weather would be nothing other than terrible.

I closed my eyes, this is all my fault. I reopen my eyes as the tears seep out. I was going to tell him that I'd like to see him as my husband in the future if he didn't mind. My fingers brush against his temples as I kick at the ground with my trainers. Wet mud lands on my pyjamas and face. I brush off a greenfly from the left side of his face and uncover a bleeding hole. I'd not noticed it before when I'd been frantically shaking him, because his hair had been matted mixing with the blood seeping out of the wound. He'd not frozen. He'd been shot. It couldn't possibly have been a person who shoots deers. My beloved one was not an animal foraging around.

At least he'd died happily. He must've been dozing when he'd been shot due to the slight upturn of the corners of his mouth. If he'd been aware of the bullet coming at him, he would've shown it on his visage. I blink wildly as I tilt my forehead at a downwards angle so that my forehead is touching his nose.

"I'll always love you. Why did someone have to take you away from me? You'll always be a part of me," I croaked as I tried to erase our days spent here lazing around and having picnics or just chasing each other around until we couldn't breathe. Someone had purposefully done this. I had to report this to someone. I needed to get home. What if the murderer was still about? What if the murderer killed me as well?

"I have to return back to town, sweetheart, but I'll be back with a few other people so that we can bury you good and proper just how you deserve," I muttered out loud. There was a click behind me.

"That'll be unnecessary since you'll be joining him soon." The wind scattered the syllables making the sound resonate, provoking the undertones of silence.

My whole body trembles as I realise what is to precede and I try to look for anything that gives me a fighting chance against a gun. Broken twigs were no good and by the time I reached for a stone, the murderer would've pulled the trigger already.

"Ok," I say, lowering myself beside my beloved one and as I nestled into his embrace, the sound of a bullet roaring through the air and splintering through skin echoes in my ears before my diminutive frame has even a chance to quiver with fear.