Repatriation

I rush into the room, I know something terrible has happened. I felt my heart in my throat and it wasn't cause I ran till here from college. I knew something terrible and I didn't need a message or a call to know it had happened. I knew it did. I unlocked the doors trying my best through the tears that haze the scene. A certain darkness guards the locked room. I beat on it for my knocks aren't heard. I am left with no choice but to break it down. I just hope that i was wrong. But i know I am not. I can feel him. I finally saw him. there was blood everywhere, the floor was flooded with blood. I knelt down, holding him in my arms and crying. I wish it was my life, not his. His gaze was lost but I could still see the sorrow in his eyes. I could see the helplessness. I pray for the strength to avenge his death and I feel powerful. I know his soul covers me now. I can feel his strength bind with mine gripping my hands tighter around him. I can feel the energy as if he is right there. His heart was carved out right out his chest and it was still doing its best to pump whatever blood was left with all the energy it could gather. he twitched slightly. He still wasn't dead, not completely, not yet. But there was absolutely no hope. When it finally stopped beating I took his heart. It was feebly connected to the rest of him. I brought it to her, placed it in her hands her and left. There was nothing to be said.

I went back to whatever was left of him. I lay in the pool of blood next to him looking at his eyes. It had lost all its life now. It still feels like he is around. In my sobs, I loose consciousness and I can see him. I can see him through his own eyes. His eyes hurt. He has been crying for hours now. He doesn't have the strength to stand. He stays still, kneeling. He prays for forgiveness. And plunges the knife into himself. He feels the cold of the knife in him, but it doesn't hurt at all, at least nothing compared to what he feels now. He drags the blade all the way around his heart. He pulls himself apart. The blood now flooding the ground after soaking everything he wore. He stops, holding himself up with his hands he coughs out blood as it gushes to his mouth. On all fours now, he knows he is done. He falls on the ground and looks out from between the drapes in his room to the sunlight. He knows what he has done has no retracing and he lays there, repenting his deed, knowing fully well that he wouldn't have stopped anyway.

I saw the fear in his eyes as he awaited the darkness. I saw the exact same fear once again as I staggered to the wash and saw my face in the mirror. I ran back to him, held his face and realized I was gazing at myself. I finally understood. I needed to come back to forgive him. I needed to come back to forgive myself. I kissed his cold forehead and held him tight as I disappeared.