Kismet

Thirty Seven [The Odyssey]

It's still dark when your eyes crack open to reveal your environment; the minuscule apartment that you've thoroughly nested your damaged psyche within during the last three months, the shadows of your broken shards of belongings mixed in with the remnants of your lover whose been cast away at sea. The sweet reunion in the alleyway, the gut-wrenching elevator confessions, the detrimental haircut, the surreal scooter ride and the eventual climb to your cruise ship suite. It all disappears along with the dissipating fog of your dubious dream and the lingering taste of warm, sun-ripened raspberries from Harry's lips. It was so real that you could taste it, each cruel flick of his tongue against yours and every fleck of sapphire in his mottled irises.

It was all too impeccable to be true.

You've come to expect it though. The ardent memories and fictional delusions along with macabre nightmares pooling with Harry's blood on the pavement. Your brain has done nothing but haunt, trick and torment you for ninety days and it seems as if there is no end in sight. Your chest and throat fatten and choke before tears billow down your cheeks, a sharp pain in your stomach crudely timed with the thunk of the bathroom door swinging open and slamming against the wall.

The only movement you're capable of is a flick of your eyes towards the invasive and surprising sound, two bare feet that you've come to yearn for quietly padding against the hardwood of his living space. Your gaze travels up the skin of his legs and hips which are shrouded by a pair of briefs, a smooth ripple of stomach decorated with ferns and a gently breathing butterfly, two swallows and a sprawl of ropy shoulders that funnel into a strong neck. Your lips part to either speak or breathe except no words or air pass when your eyes connect with those of your starving love. Shiny with upset and glowing with the echo of the galaxy; moon beams, comet tails and billions upon billions of dying stars reflecting your own shriveled despondency.

Your eyebrows pull together in bewilderment before you sit up and hiss in pain at the stabbing sensation in your abdomen; his presence, silence and stillness wreaking havoc on the sleeping apparition that was absorbed into the dreamcatcher above his bed. You reach a hand out to him and clear your throat, wanting nothing more than to feel the familiar blanket of cherished affinity that only he can provide, "Harry?" Flattened images of him holding your face in his elevator as he promises you that he will never again hold anything back flood every fissure of your brain, "is this real? Are you real? I'm so confused- can you please come here, dreamy?"

A single drop of blood leaks from Harry's nose and collects in the crevice of his mouth. He frowns and lifts a hand to swipe it away, but as soon as his fingertips make contact with his skin, the red streak blossoms and grows to spread out across his top lip and trickle down his chin. You watch in horror as another wound appears above his eyebrow, his plasma leaking down his cheek to join the rest of the destructive mess on his face. Dots of gravel and dirt stain his cheeks and you swear they weren't there a moment ago and now the confusion on his face is beginning to match yours. You can feel your mouth moving as you speak to him but no words are audible, your throat burning with hysterical pleas for him to come to you but it seems as if his feet are molded to the ground.

His ghost fades and dissolves as you weep and mumble his name, the pain in your stomach now too volatile to ignore as you push the sheets away and stare down at your midsection. A gaping wound just off to the side of your bellybutton, puddles of blood spurting onto your mid-drift baring tank top and once white panties. Your attacker's face and wretched sneer is rekindled within the prison of your tortured mind, the reminder that you were assaulted in a dark alleyway after work and that your savior was never there. You had only wished him to be, but instead all you received was a knife to the gut and another nightmare to add to the list of your decaying life.