The Promise

A Story by KingO'Malley

A broken promise and a broken love.

I stood there in front of the cold, stone grave with an expression just as cold and stone-like, letting the rain pour over me. I refused to believe that he was dead. I refused to believe that he was never coming back. He had always been immortal to me, and I took him for granted. It was only when he was gone, when I knew I would never be able to see him again, that I realized I would never get to see his smile or hear his laugh or feel the warmth of his hugs ever again.

I didn't cry. I didn't break down. I didn't feel. I was just empty. Unfeeling. And for the first time in years I felt that itch in my arms, just begging to be cut and colored red, begging to be able to feel again, no matter what it was that was felt. All of this because we were two men in a relationship, having been found out by a nosy student. Apparently I hadn't been enough to help with his pain, his utter agony at being shunned by his family.

I just hadn't been enough to ease that pain. And so he killed himself with no thought of what it would do to me. Yet, even after realizing this, I didn't cry. I didn't let a single emotion cross my face. I didn't let a single emotion in my heart. I slid my hand in my pocket and pulled out my knife that I'd always carried around as a reminder.

I flipped it open and pressed the silver knife to my soaked, bare arm. I put pressure on it and drug it all the way across my wrist. I felt the welcome pain wash through my body. With that one cut, with that blood rushing over my skin, I broke the promise I had made to him so long ago. And then the tears came. All of my emotions came rushing back into me, filling my being. Tears slid down my face and sobs escaped my lips.

I fell to my knees in the mud, pressing both of my hands to my face. And then I let out an agony filled scream that showed how much pain I was in, how much his death affected me. I couldn't take the pain. I couldn't take not being with him. So I brought the knife to my arm again and pushed it down. I drug it across my arm, cutting deep enough to slash an artery.

And that was enough to make the blood come rushing out like a waterfall, pouring down my arm and onto my black pants and into the slushy brown mud. Tears were still sliding down my cheeks, blending in with the rain. I heard a shout, a yell, behind me, but I drifted into the black abyss with a smile on my face and tears rolling down my cheeks, knowing that I would be able to see my love again without a worry of any people judging me or causing me pain.

I would finally be able to see him again after ten years. I would finally be reunited with him.