I knew what I was walking into – I could smell it from halfway down the hall. As though even our apartment complex was no longer trying to hide the darkness. For we did not just find ourselves in the absence of light – it is merely who we were. And yet, I was running.
Maybe I simply had to see it for myself – that or I’m just a masochist. I don’t know what I was expecting to happen as I stood before the threshold Will had carried me through the day we moved in. I watched my right hand graze the scrape in the doorframe where I lost my grip for the second time. And then it occurred to me – the reason I had run down the hallway, anxious to behold the hurricane of shit that was about to make landfall in my already wasted life, is because this was my home. Granted I didn’t build it with bricks, and sweat and wiring…but I erected it from retiling the bathroom floor, choosing a rug….attempting to make souffle. This was the house I built – and I’d be god damned if I didn’t look death in the eye and stand my ground.
I pushed the doorknob forward and beheld the carnage on the floor. My one regret is that Will chose such a public space to end it all – then again, I guess you had to give him some credit for not doing it in our bed.
As I watched Will fuck the brunette on the couch we had worked so hard to get into this apartment, my sense of home faded from my body. He looked as me as though to say, “You should have expected this.” – as if I had known it would come to this all along. Death had taken my love, my heart, my everything…Will was gone…
Andme? Well, I was already dead.