Day 170

“Why is the beat of a single pile of assorted tissues and blood so falsely defining? So fragile and profound without a care…” he started out softly. “Yet, so significantly phenomenal to the naked eye and nearly incomprehensible to the smartest minds?” I stiffened my grip around his hand and tilted my head. I wasn’t sure where he was going with this speech, but I wanted nothing more than to listen. Curling my toes I strained my brain, trying to understand his meaning behind each word.

“ What’s the point of weeping over an intangible representation of something so unnerving, so indescribable, none have yet to truly define it? Why is this pulsating organ completely falsified and exaggerated to the extent of no return?” His vision darted away from mine briefly, his free hand slowly sliding across his stomach but stopping short. “This organ…," he expressed some of distress as he examined the jagged outline of his ribs. I watched as his pale lengthy fingers slowly creased themselves through the spaces between his bones. "The organ that truly proves the pinnacle of life can and will end with the slightest blink of an eye. No remorse, no warning, years of intensive emotional reparations… all for a pile of blood and tissue.”

I swallowed hard trying to forget about the thick knot clogging every free airway in my throat. The final words slipped off his tongue evenly, hitting the air harsh and cold. The outer corners of my lips tugged into a thick smirk that only etched itself deeper and deeper into my skin the longer I watched him.

“Well..” I clicked the tip of my tongue against the backs of my teeth as air left the very depths of my lungs. I placed a hand on my head and brushed back the loose strands as I straightened my figure. “Why are you worrying about your heart? You don’t have heart disease. Why are we talking about this anyway…?” I smirked. I let my fingers slowly trail across his pale skin, ribs slightly visible underneath the smooth tissue he grimaced slightly and rolled away quickly, the sheets and covers throw aloof. Throwing one leg over the other he pressed his feet against the ground and curled his toes until they cracked. I lifted my head and watched him gripped the edge of the mattress. “Hey, Marc, are you okay?” No response. I hesitated a moment before rolling my abdomen upwards enough to reach out and grab him. Before I could even think to prepare myself, his body convulsed and wrenched forwards a bit as he began to heave. I jostled him, noticing his inability to make any sort of communication. His eyes  burned in silence, his head sweaty and pale against the lights. “Marc? Marc, are you okay baby?" With a burst of eminent force his right arm shot out like a bullet and smashed against my chest, throwing me back hard enough for my skull to collide with the floor.

I wanted to cry out of rage, but what I saw next kept me from doing much of anything. There was a lot I wanted to do. A lot I should have done, but in reality, I couldn’t do anything. He leaned over the edge of the bed a bit more and started to puke excessively. His ribcage fully visible from the contraction of his abdominal muscles, and his entire body was shaking from head to toe. The noise of puke was fully apparent, but what hit the floor was thick blood, mucus, and water. Lots and lots of blood and water. I gripped the rug for a brief moment and watched Marc frantically covered his mouth, blood seeping through the spaces between his fingers. His eyes slowly began to lose any sign of life; red, puffy as though he’d been crying and worn they rolled back into his head, until they were fully shut. I wasn’t exactly sure what to do, or how to react, so I didn’t.