Inevitable

I N E V I . . . . .

Have you ever seen a rose strangled by its own thorns?

You will.

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I closed my eyes, thinking about the inevitable.

Death.

My stalker. Always there, just a few steps away.

Not hiding in the shadows, but standing in plain sight.

And every time I escape; right when its claws reach towards me, near enough to break skin, but not to break me.

Not me. Not Ruby Angelfalls.

A thousand cuts may be carved in my body, a hundred bandages may adorn me, I might have fissures in my bones, but my soul is whole.

But not my heart. It is a hollow vessel, an aching void in a rotting husk.

I let out an exhale and leaned back when I heard something rustle.

Like a dry leaf cascading over rough bark.

My breathing hitched.

Adrenaline spiked with fear shot through my veins as I grabbed my gun.

The safety is always off; in here, there is no such concept as safety.

Glocking it, I waited, the ropes of fear and panic twining around my limbs, arresting myself still.

Silence.

I opened the door of the car and stepped outside, the sulphurous air stinging my nostrils. Buildings reduced to ashes, toxic air mixed with the stench of rotting bodies, but no danger.

No danger.

I let out a breath that I didn't realize I had been holding hostage.

I live in a post-war world, where humanity killed the planet and is slowly choking itself; where euphoria kills you if you go half the day without your heart stopping; where an echo of a stone falling can choke your throat with fear; where you go paralyzed if you see another human being like you.

Shaking my head, I tried to rid myself off the thoughts. I let out a sigh and stepped inside the car, which has been scavenged for anything useful. I settled into the shredded seat, propping my knees on the dashboard.

I was sure that the car belonged to some teenager who has a juvenile record a metre long.

It was a Volkswagen Jetta, the colour of faded moon rock silver.

The car reeked of vomit and cigarettes.

I popped open the dashboard, throwing my gun in it, when something fluttered, catching my eye.

I picked them up, two tickets to a theatre show; I subconsciously flipped it, my eyes distant.

A smiley face was drawn on it with a black sharpie.

Mi amas vin.

I love you.

My vision blurred as brine collected in my eyes.

Endless running, surviving, scavenging and hallucinations have numbed my heart.

In between survival and fear, I have sudden moments of clarity, when I am haunted by him.

His turquoise blue eyes stood out starkly, framed with short dark lashes. That hiccupping laugh and the teasing italian lilt.

My heart contracted painfully.