Crimson Tears

Better is open rebuke than hidden love. Proverbs 27; 5

She sat silently on her bed, in the darkness, wrapped in her blanket, waiting for everyone else to finally go to sleep. As the last light extinguished, she crept up from her bed and, taking her blanket with her, nudged her couch forward, away from the heater. She then crawled in-between the space between the heater and the couch. It was a good place to hide. The heater provided extra warmth, and the street light shone in through the window, removing the need for a flashlight.

Her hands groped around for her pen and notebook. Taking both into hand, she flipped through the many ink and tear-stained pages until she found a blank one. Before the pen even touched the paper, two teardrops had. She smiled sadly as she thought how most of her tears had been shed inside her heart. She would tremble and then become overrun by the shakes that overtook her... her tearless sobbing. How often would she cry without tears? When would the torrent finally break loose? When would she finally find release? When would the pain inside her heart finally end? She could often feel her heart cry its tears of blood; she often clutched her heart in anguish as she felt it threaten to give up in weakness, the result of a heart that cries blood tears.


Often she was surprised to discover that the tears that sprang into her eyes did not shimmer red with the blood she felt tearing through her body in a painful manner.

Wiping her eyes dry, she pressed the pen against the paper, in a last effort to let the pain escape.

Hello my old friend.

I write to you again, as my pain becomes ever-increasing. I grow tired of the pain that increases in my heart, but finds no release outside of my body. It ravages my body, tears through my veins with a wild fury, and even at night the demonic rampage never ceases. My own body will destroy me. Unrequited love will be my eventual demise.

And so tell me, my old friend, how you can allow me to feel such love and passion for a person who can not and will not ever love me in return? I sit here awake at night, shivering from the cold, shaking with tears I cannot shed, and every night I plead with you to grant me this one wish; this one desire. How can you deny me this one small thing? How can you watch me suffer under such feelings and not do anything to either put an end to them, or fulfill them?

She paused as her body began to tremble. She grabbed with her hand at her heart, as if it would stop the pain from searing through her body. It was like fire following the trail of kerosene, and the fire was started by her heart, and her blood was the kerosene. She winced from the pain and dropped her pen. Trembling, she rocked back and forth, clutching at her heart, trying to will it to stop hurting her... to stop causing her pain. She grit her teeth trying not to cry out from the anguish it caused her, and she buried her face into the back of the sofa.

"oh won't you please take it from me," she whimpered as wave after wave of increasing pain swept through her body. Finally, it ceased. Her hands shaking even harder now, she reached for her pen once more.


Why did you have to do that? she wrote. I love him, and it hurts. It tears my heart apart. Why must I suffer like this. Lord, Lord, Lord, Master, Savior, can you not see my pain? Can you not see it? CAN'T YOU SEE ME SUFFERING?! I CAN'T LIVE WITHOUT HIM! TAKE THIS PAIN AWAY FROM ME!

The pen dropped from her hand once more as she buried her face into her hands. She shook, trembled, and heaved, gasping with the pain she suffered. The tears came strongly now, and as the pain swept over her with suffocating force, she cried out into the couch, trying to stifle the sounds for fear of someone hearing her. Her hands clawed against the couch back, and then she pounded against it twice, viciously, groaning through clenched teeth. "Take it away, take it away!" she cried. "Won't you please take it away?! Free me, just free me. Save me from myself!"
Once more she clapped her fist against the couch before she was again overcome by the flood of pain that raged through her entire body. Every inch of her trembled and shook with the tears that her heart cried. The blood tears that her heart shed again and again. She was beyond words now, capable of nothing but groaning, whimpering, and moaning.

Anger at her despair finally began to course through her and her moans turned into a low growl. Her fists beat against the couch in a wild fury of passionate anger that began to take over the helpless pain in her body. Despair gave way to despairing anger. It was only the next step that would lead her further down into her abyss of utter brokenness.

When her anger was spent she could not even whimper. She groaned without a sound, rocked back and forth, as her eyes bled tears.

She could not live like this. Something had to be done, for she would not survive one more night like this. Somehow, she had to give it up. But how? She was so tired of shedding crimson tears.

Her pen touched the paper with one last attempt.

Dear Lord help me somehow before I am utterly spent. I give you my heart, I give you my soul. Please stop my tears... put an end to my tears... these crimson tears.

She sat back and sighed; her breath still coming in small spurts as she tried to recover from her meltdown.


Abruptly, her thoughts were torn away from the subject at hand, as she heard her cell phone vibrate against her desk surface. Reaching up to grab it, she flipped it open and glanced at the display. "Come outside." it read, from a private number. She wrinkled her forehead, trying to figure out whom it could possibly be from.

Holding onto the sofa for support, she stood up and looked out her window. A figure stood on the driveway, the shape barely illuminated by the street light, and waved at her. She waved back and then crept downstairs. As she reached to open the front door, she began to feel a nagging fear. What was she doing? She didn't even know who was standing outside. And once she opened the door and had walked out onto the driveway, panic suddenly seized her. He was a stalker, she was going to die. This was the end.

The figure stepped into the light, and for the first time, she could see his face. "Brad! What are you doing here?" she asked. Ignoring her question, a grin crept to his face.

"Maybe I should have told you to get dressed," he stated. She looked down and her face turned red. She was barefoot, in sweatpants, and a tank top. It suddenly hit her how cold it was outside as the wind began to whip at her mocha brown hair.

And then the skies opened and the rain began pouring down.

"Quick, get in the car!" Brad exclaimed, opening the door and hustling her in. He followed her and slammed the door closed as the rain intensified, rapidly transferring from pouring to pelting with such ferocity that she briefly wondered if the sky itself would soon follow.

Hugging herself, she turned to look at him. "What are you doing here at this hour? What time is it anyway?"

"It's five in the morning," he answered simply. So she had really spent the entire night crying. "And I thought you might want some Starbucks and a conversation," he continued. She looked at him with cocked eyebrows.
"It's five in the morning and you want to take me to Starbucks?" she asked incredulously.

His mischievous smile broadening, he held up a thermos. "I brought the Starbucks to you," he answered. He suddenly frowned as he saw her shivering. He unzipped his Carrhart hooded sweatshirt and pulled it off, wrapping it around her. "T-thanks," she mumbled.

"I suppose it's the least I can do, dragging you outside in your bare feet," he returned, digging out the cups and unscrewing the thermos lid.
He handed her a cup before pouring himself one. They sat in silence for a long time, listening to the rain.
"So, are you going to tell me why you were sitting under your window at five in the morning, crying?" he finally asked.

Her head shot up to look at him. "Don't pretend you weren't crying. Your eyes are blood shot and you look as if you've run a mile-long gauntlet in this rain. You've been up all night, and it wasn't spent watching a movie and laughing with friends," he said.

"Thanks for the compliment," she mumbled, hiding behind her coffee cup.
"You know how I meant it Ketlyn. Now what's bothering you? You've been acting down for a long time now, and every night I drive by, your light is on until the next morning comes."
"Since when do you drive by here?"
"Since I've been worried about you."
"Since when have you worried about me?"
"I have always worried about you. You're just too wrapped up in Jake to notice."
"He's a good friend," Ketlyn shot back, her defenses rising.
"Not to be mean, but he's not the one in the car with you."

Ketlyn had no reply to that, but her lips quivered as she tried to hide behind the coffee.

"What happened Ket?"

Her lips quivered harder and she began to cry again. Understanding flooded through Brad as he realized why she was crying. He could read the pain out of her eyes and knew that the pain could be caused by only one thing.

"It's Jake, isn't it?"

"He, he--he doesn't love me. He never will!" she sputtered.
"Maybe you just deserve better love."
"No I don't. I don't want to!" she shot back.

Brad put his cup in the cup holder and reached out for her hand.
"Loving somebody doesn't make them love you Ket. I know it from first-hand experience. When will you stop crying your crimson tears over a man who cannot ever love you in the way you want him to? Not will not love you, but cannot love you. He simply cannot love you in that way."
"How would you know what tears I cry?"
"I see it in your eyes. Your heart cries every bit as much as your eyes, if not more. Oh Ket, Ket, why are you so devoted to someone who will never love you like you need to be loved?"

"Like there's anyone else," Ketlyn fired back, and did not see the momentary hurt that flashed through Brad's eyes as she said it.
"And besides, you've never loved anyone who didn't love you back. You get anyone you want with a snap of your fingers. Not to be a mean jerk, but I haven't slept all night, I have cried and trembled and been overrun by a heartache no human should have to endure, over a man who will not ever love me like I want him to. I look like crap. Worse crap than usual, if that's possible. You said so yourself. And now I am sitting in a car with man voted most likely to get whatever he wants out of life, who is trying to understand me but can't because he's never cried my crimson tears and never will. I appreciate the effort, but you will never know what crimson tears feel like."

"First things first Ket. First off, I never said you look like crap. I said you look like you've been through hell; no person in his right mind would suggest you look ugly. Take that back, because you look gorgeous. And don't roll your eyes at me either. Secondly, look at my eyes and tell me I've never been rejected. Tell me I've never had to cry crimson tears. Because I have. And I still do. You think I have everything I ever wanted, but the truth is the one thing I wanted most has always been outside of my reach."

Ket didn't answer for a moment, but put her empty coffee cup on the floorboard. When she looked up again, she looked right into his eyes. They revealed his soul. They revealed eyes that had bled. They revealed a heart that had cried.

"Who would turn you down?" Ketlyn finally asked.
There was a long pause before Brad finally answered.
"You."

There was another long pause as Ketlyn stared at him in utter disbelief.
"You? Me? What?" Ketlyn stuttered, rendered incapable of speech.

"I love you so much, but have never been able to tell you. My heart cries and my eyes bleed every night, wanting to tell you but knowing you're too wrapped up in Jake to care. Even now I was hesitant to tell you, but then I remembered... better is open rebuke than hidden love. I had to tell you, even if it meant the end for my heart."

Ket stared at him in shock and disbelief, and then her lips began to quiver again and she started to cry harder than before. Brad reached out for her and she allowed him to pull her into his arms and stroke her hair softly as she cried.

"I'm tired. I'm so so tired. I'm tired of my heart hurting, and I'm tired of fighting the pain and always losing. I don't want to fight anymore. I don't want to hurt anymore," she cried.

"I won't hurt you Ket. I promise it, I swear it to you, I will never ever hurt you. I hope you can believe me. I only want to be with you, I only want to take care of you. I, God I love you. You don't have to fight anymore. No more crimson tears darling, and no more nights alone. Okay?"

There was silence.

Then,

"Okay."

She could feel his arm tighten around her, and she buried her head against his chest. She didn't have to fight anymore. She didn't have to cry anymore. No more pain, no more tears.


She was where she needed to be, with the person she was meant to be with.



No more crimson tears.

Reviews

[Star Catcher]

This is a lovely story of rejection and acceptance. It shows true pain, and the relief of pain. It's rather beautiful. The only really error I could find is something rather trivial. In the part where you say, "It was like fire following the trail of kerosene, and the fire was started by her heart, and her blood was the kerosene." It's rather repetitive. I immediately got the message when you said "fire following the trail of kerosene," and thought it was a great comparison, but when you went on to explain it it sort of killed it. But that's just one little sentence. In any case, lovely story. =)

[E. Rose]

This is a gorgeous piece, it shows real emotional pain that I don't think all of us are aware of. I do agree with Star Catcher, but it's very very minor so there's no real need for concern. It's an incredible piece, thank you so much for writing it.