.Long Lost.

Bright Eyed

Someone is screaming, crying, choking on their tears.

Heart aching, breath hitching cries bounce off of the stone walls, drilling into my mind until my body quivers.

I wake with a start to the sound of a broken man.

Instantly alert, I push myself up from the ice cold concrete and stare at the noise.

I can't really see at first, my eyes gradually adjusting to the complete and all encompassing lack of light.

But I see him.

I see him sitting cross legged, 10 steps away with his head buried in his hands, body jolting with the power of his sadness.

I can't breathe as he gasps. I can hardly watch as he rubs violently at his face. I'm frozen. Shocked. Horrified to see what I did to him up close.

"Oh, babe," I whisper past the lump in my throat.

I can't help but cry along with him at seeing him so distraught.

"I'm sorry. I'm so so so sorry," he chokes, not looking up. "FUCK!"

He breaks.

Exploding to his feet he sends a fist into the nearby wall, blood dripping from his knuckles instantly. He doesn't even flinch.

I rush to my feet at seeing him injure himself, grabbing his shoulder and pulling him away from the wall. My heart pounds as he's forced to face me, his eyes are bloodshot and blurry, his face a bright pink that contrasts greatly to the dark.

"Stop it Danny! Fucking hell!" I yell at him as I grab his face between my hands, dragging his eyes to where mine would be... if I wasn't dead.

And then my grip disappears, concaving, falling, vanishing into him until I drop my hands in defeat and concede to standing close to him, in the only comfort I can offer myself and him.

"Stop," I order, glaring up at him.

He reaches up to touch his cheek, caving in on himself and collapses into a position similar to his former one.

"I can't do it Sandy. Don't make me do it."

Cautiously I sit before him, afraid of any sudden movements even though he can't see me.

He sniffles and pulls his stained white shirt up to rub away the moisture on his face.

He's lost weight. Not much, but I can just see his ribs under all of his muscle and he hasn't shaved in at least a few days... I think. I wouldn't know how often he needed to shave because I haven't been there.

In his old worn joggers and thin t-shirt, he must be freezing. If he is, he doesn't show it.

His tears almost seem to steam in the cold.

I wait for him to calm down or talk; really I'm not sure what I'm waiting for but I can't exactly make the first move.

He lifts his unseeing eyes to flicker around, searching for me even though I'm sitting in front of him, unable to reach out.

"Why you? Of all the people that could be ripped from my life, why did it have to be you?"

I bring my knees up under my chin, trying to comfort myself somehow.

He continues to cry, calmer than before but still sobbing like a man whose lost everything.

I want to reach over to him and hug him so badly that my body physically aches for it. I don't even try for the fear of disappointment.