Forget Part 1 (I Will Remember You)A Story by Kristan A. MohammedPart 1 of an enchanting series.
She sat comfortably staring at the love of her life. He was babbling on about something she really didn’t care about. But she wasn’t at all bored. She was happy just being in his presence as they rarely got to spend any time together ever since the day he started working.
She liked to look at his lips. She always adored his lips although he hated them. And when he smiled at her, all the colors would come alive in her mind like the wings on the butterflies in her stomach.
She was so lost in him and so busy drowning out his blabber that she didn’t hear the waiter speak. Then she saw her boyfriend look up. The waiter looked like your average young, tortured soul with curly brown hair and a restless journey in his blue eyes. He jotted down their order in his pad and walked away.
While he was placing their drinks on the table she noticed an uncountable number of scars on his hand and wrist. They were obviously self-inflicted. It was as if he had taken a blade and tried to play the violin with the strings of his skin.
When he realized that she was staring at his scars, his face became polished to a shine with embarrassment. He smiled and walked away.
It had been quite a few days since she saw him at the diner but she couldn’t stop thinking of him and of his scars as her mother had similar ones. She wondered what a person would have gone through to want to hurt themselves. They must have been so lost for hope, living on pain like blood running through their veins.
Little did she know that, in a few days, those scars would be the last things on her mind.
She met the waiter again at the bus stop and got a better look at his face. She’d seen him once or twice on campus before. But they didn’t have any classes together. She decided to be friendly and try to talk to him but her attempts to start a conversation were futile as he kept shooting her down with one-worded responses. About five minutes into her dying friendliness she felt herself get knocked to the ground. There was a loud bang and she saw her boyfriend fall to the floor right next to her, blood pouring from his lower abdomen like a waterfall of her tears and his pain. She rushed towards him and pulled him into her arms while the waiter called the police.
There was a dead silence among the busy bus stop, a silence even more deafening than the sound of the gunshot itself.
She sat there, trying to reassure him that he would be okay, but the words would not filter through her teeth because not even she could believe them. He tried to say something but only his blood, his life, could gush through the lips she loved so much. He just laid there on the cold floor, trying to hold his last few breaths, but trying in vain. He knew that his waters were running dry. But he was not scared. He was proud to die for someone he loved.
Within a few seconds the spark faded from his eyes like the moon shines dull through the wings of a honey-bee. The same moon pulling his tides to the other side. Pulling his heart to a state of rest calm.
Alex, the waiter, felt fear more than remorse. For the gun was not aimed at the girl speaking to him. She just got in the way. It was his name inscribed onto the bullet. He knew what had to be done. He had to leave. To run. Again.
© 2015 Kristan A. MohammedAuthor's Note
Reviews
|
StatsAuthorKristan A. MohammedArouca, Caribbean, Trinidad and TobagoAboutI am trying to uncover the enigma of the human emotion through poetry and other forms of writing. I think that the human mind and emotion is quite interesting to i have based my inspirations on it. more..Writing
Related WritingPeople who liked this story also liked..
|