Alicia and I (Lesbian Story)

Alicia and I - Prologue

- PROLOGUE -

I remember the blood.

It was flowing from my arms, my hands, my nose. Everywhere. It was everywhere. I remember the man, too. His face was hovering somewhere above mine, rocking back and forth; slow, calculated. As if he was sure of what to do, like it was something he’d done a thousand times…

Second nature, really.

I guess it was.

But I don’t remember the van, I don’t remember the warehouse. I don’t remember how I died.

But I remember how I got there.

I remember who got me there.

I suppose I have nobody to blame but myself – maybe, if I’d been more careful, if I’d been more… calculated. Maybe. Maybe none of this would have happened.

But I wasn’t. And it did.

And, so, here I am. Dead. Gone. But death isn’t all that scary, really. It’s not how I thought it would be. I don’t know why people get so scared of it. It’s just a field. A field at harvest time.

It’s empty here. The tall, beige wheat swirls around my waist. The sky is a patchwork of blue and grey, like a quilt. Everything is silent.

Days come and go. I’ve lost count, now. The sky at night is blazing with stars. Sometimes, I try to find the constellations my father used to tell me about. Sometimes I find my own. The nights are cold, but the icy winds are refreshing. The blood from my hands is gone.

Sometimes, I try to walk somewhere. Anywhere. There are golden hill rolling around me, ringing my little valley. I try to find people here, but I can’t. I try to find my father, but no matter how long I walk for, the hills are always in the same place. Always just on the horizon. Huh. I think of all the people who’ve died. Death must be very spacious.

But sometimes, at night, I think. Think of the past. And her, and how I got here. Sometimes, I dream. I live. No, I re-live.