Jane Doe

A Story by DeusExMachina

Pretty dark. Its about change, and the relationship between a boy and a girl as they slowly but violently fall apart. Its based partly on the Converge album of the same name.

JANE DOE

Together they walked, the boy and the girl, through the emerald forests and into the wild meadows at the edge of the lake. The ground was peppered with tall grasses, daisies buzzing with insects, bright, bright buttercups. Sometimes the boy would bend over pick one of the flowers, hold it carefully, pass it to the girl. She’d take it and laugh before walking on, dropping it into the grass and crushing it underfoot.

And by the lake the two of them would sit. They’d dip their toes into the warm, glassy water and wriggle them. Embrace each other. Kiss...

One day, amidst the endless sun of September, he lowered to one knee and held a ring before her. She burst into a river of tears, nodded, and the two of them converged like waves crashing into each other, violent but beautiful.

“Let’s stay like this”, she said, pressed against him, “like two insects locked in amber”.

“I’ll stay like this for you, dear. Forever gold” he replied, and they tumbled into the grass. Entwined.

September ended, October came in and dragged the rain behind it, treading the mud into the house of the summer, spoiling the green carpets and leaving its coat dripping in the hallway. Visits to the lakeside grew sparser as the days began to shorten and the seasons began to shift from blue into grey. Leaves wilted and tumbled to the ground, a damp, brown ocean, and the trees above were left naked and bare. The love forged so strongly in those summer nights, love that was once golden, now began to leave a bitter taste in the boy and the girl’s mouths.

Some days they still felt young and passionate, maybe even venture outside if the weather was fair. But other times they’d shout and push, hands clenched into fists, nothing to say but angry retorts and spiteful remarks.

Then, the boy would walk out, go for a drive into town and buy her flowers, say “Oh, I'm sorry! It was my fault! I'm so sorry. I’ll never do it again. I love you. So sorry...” They’d kiss and make-up, for a week or two they’d morph back to their younger selves, their golden, summer selves.

Then the cycle began again.

That year the winds of winter were especially cold. The two of them found themselves cut off from the rest of the world; the roads were iced over and the nearest town was too far to try and walk to. Intermittent voices on the wireless called it “the greatest of winters on record”, or at least they did until they were cut off all together and there was just static.

One week in the food was starting to disappear fast.

“I’ll go and hunt” said the boy, breaking silence that had lasted for days. He seemed confident but awkward, shaking slightly inside.

“No. You’re not going out there. You’ll catch your death” replied the girl, curled up in front of the fire and clutching her mug of hot tea tightly in her hands.

He moved towards her, quivering in his heart, his eyes flashing crimson.

“You know what I think? After I've bled and given for you, I think... I go outside if I want to. You got that?”

“There won’t be anything there. The deer will’ve moved on, and if you think you can find any rabbits in this mess then your deluded.” She replied, gazing icily into the marble hearth.

“Since when did you know a thing about hunting?” he spat, ages of anger starting to come to the fore in his head, all of her lies, the time she looked at that other man, the time she told him she didn't love him before apologising over and over and over again... But all the times she said sorry, did she ever mean it, did she ever really mean it? She just sat still, not even sparing him a glance.

“You know what?” she whispered, barely coherent, “ I've had enough.”

“What?”

She turned to him, a simple glance in the dimly lit room. “ I've had enough!” her voice grew louder. Three words. It killed him inside to hear them, those three words, killed him to know that it had all been for nothing. They bled him dry.

“ I've had enough” she continued, standing, slowly, “enough of you and your spiteful comments and your lies, enough of our memories, enough of it all. Its grown bitter and cold, and I am so, so f*****g tired!” their eyes locked, and any life left in him drained out at that moment.

He walked out into the cold, dragging the bag of his things behind him. In there were memories of her. Memories he’d rather forget...

His footprints left scarlet stains in the snow as he walked, forward, onward.

No love, no hope.

It stung in his mind like an insect bite, and he stopped to swipe at it. Looking around, the boy realised where he was: the forest. That once emerald forest, now bare in the frost of December. He carried on into the meadows at the edge of the lake, cast around for flowers, but nothing, nothing was left but the snow that covered everything.

Roughly he pulled the bag down the short dip and to the waters edge. The lake itself was covered in ice, and on top of that more snow, a white sheet that carpeted everything.

He picked up a large rock that had lane there for years, and struck the ice with it. Once, twice, three times, as many as it took until, finally, he broke the surface and could touch the beautiful numbness of the water beneath. The boy washed the blood off of his hands and smiled.

“ I'm dying to be saved”, he whispered.

Opening the bag that lay next to him and gazing on its contents, his thing, the thing that belonged to him most of all. Never really independent, just his, like a concubine to an ancient emperor. His. He touched her cold, pale face and began to cry. The zipper was shut back up, so he couldn't see her any more, so he didn't need to see her. One last journey.

The hole in the ice was starting to close, so quickly, almost thoughtlessly he slung the bag up and over, dropping it into the cold water. She fell away from him, drifting off into the darkness of the lake where they used to go.

“Run on” he said, sinking to his knees in fits of tears at what he’d lost.

“Run on, girl. Run on.”