Four Six Eleven

The argument had been brutal. Words spat out without thought of any consequence, without any thought of the cuts they would rip into the fabric of the moment. A moment. The murder of love; its corpse left on the ground.

Surrounded by the destruction of anger, reality sets in. Smashed glasses and plates are replaceable, tables and chairs can be returned to their legs. Feelings cannot. What have I done? Why do I do it? What now? The usual questions, the usual emptiness. Head in hands he cries. Emotion unrestrained and exiting with the force that only comes from hurting the one person you care most about in the world. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Where does it go from here? The unknown. Is his other half feeling the same? Does he care? He hopes he does. He hopes he will fight for this as much as he is trying to. Follow your heart. Listen to it and if that person means the world to you, cling on to it. Hold on to its slipping grip and try and pull them back from over the edge of the cliff. Never give in. Never give up. Never give in to fear.

Fear. That’s all he can feel. Once again losing everything and opening himself to the cold realisation that he had gone too far. Taken one step over the line and brought the whole world crashing down. Shit. He prays to God. He doesn’t believe in Him but in this one moment, he wishes He existed, listened and helped.

How can anything be the same again? Was the love they had as strong as they had thought? He knows his is, but who can ever be certain of the other? Too many questions. Always too many questions without answers. Questions solved through experience, through sitting down and speaking. What if it’s beyond speech? That’s a question he doesn’t want to know the answer to.

Both had hurt the other, each had pulled out knives and sliced the other. There was no innocent party, there was no right. There was no need for any of this. Both had found out each other’s dark side. Sweet fucking Jesus Christ, please let us know forgiveness. Slut Mother Mary, please embrace us. Dear Blind God, for once let everything work out for the best.

An empty prayer from an emptying soul.


Four Six Eleven appears in the novel The Heart of Darkness, published in 2014.

Copyright © Dominic Lyne, 2011

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