Sunday, October 16, 2011

six feet.

Six Feet.
Revision: 10-09-11

In the pitch black night shines the small glow of the headlights. The pair of small beams illuminates the darkness of the road. The rain beats against the ground relentlessly. Every one of my steps is swallowed up by mud. She’s held up pretty well considering the 10 mile drive out here in the middle of nowhere. We’ve been headed down an unmarked road and there’s nothing but darkness on all sides.

Somewhere around mile 5 I half expected her to cave in and let me go. My long brown hair is soaked and stuck to the edge of my face that wears bleeding reminders of this trek. My feet are quite worn out. My pedicure was completely ruined by this abuse. I’ve been barefoot for about 8 miles. I’ve just spent the last 10 miles being dragged by a truck.

Sometime earlier this evening she tied a rope to the hitch of the truck and gave me a 10 ft lead to walk. Of course I’ve fallen a few times and been dragged through the mud. Now dragging someone on a rope with a moving vehicle is a bit of a chore cause if you go too fast they’ll end up all bloody & damaged and if you’re going too slow chances are they might jump in back. Not me. And not this time. I’ve been quite obedient. She’s roughened me up, but there’s no real damage yet. My shirt’s torn and almost gone along with my jeans. Well, I won’t need those clothes anyhow. Not anymore.

She’s standing on the bank of the muddy ground in with both hands crossed looking down at me. I’m filthy from falling in the mud and bloody from dragging down the road along the way. Despite the tears in her eyes I can see that she has no qualms about proceeding. As I’m digging this hole she’s watching me plead for life with my eyes. We haven’t said a word since she tied me to the truck. Her last words were something about eternal love and gratitude… and yet they sounded nothing like her actions as she tied me tightly.

At this moment her stare shows more sadness than anything I can tell. The lines of remorse are deeply etched in. This time she’s so sorry that she will do anything to make it up except set me free. The funny thing is that I could have could’ve run at any moment. Once untied and laying in the mud, I could have left. Yet I stay. As she stares at me, with eyes full of love and passion for her life and sorrow for mine, I know that I’ve crossed the line. There’s no changing her mind. When I pause to stop digging she cracks me with the butt of the rifle.

“Damn!” She has me out here in the rain, digging in the filthy mud, “OUCH!” A broken nail as my hand slips down the handle. When I let out a wince she cracks me again. I stay and take my abuse while continuing to dig.

Six feet down. I continue to dig with the occasional glance at her face. She never stops watching me, with those deep penetrating eyes, piercing my heart and confusing my mind. Damn! I’m in too deep for her to hit me again and knock reason into my mind. “STOP IT!” I keep thinking over and over to myself. I can’t, she can’t. This will only continue to happen. She knows that I can’t help myself. And she doesn’t understand that. I wish it were like this all the time, but it’s not. It’s only a matter of time before I change again. And the madwoman emerges.

It’s like night and day, Jekyll and Hyde. No matter how much I love her, this has to end. She could look the other way when I killed all those evil men. When I hunted them down and destroyed them for what they did to me. But this time was different. It was a mistake that shouldn’t have been. That poor girl got in the way of the violence. What happened to her was horrific. It’s hard to believe a human is capable of such physical violence. It took me three days to find all of her parts, minus the ones the monster within me kept as souvenirs. Locked away in that room. The one I’m not allowed into. The room my other half hides them in. It was quite frightening when she saw what I’d done that day. That day when the trail of blood zigzagged its way down the hall and disappeared under the door. It couldn’t be helped or hidden anymore. Not after she’d seen it. So I picked the lock to let her inside.

“Sit down in the hole!” she screams. With the rifle pointed square at the front of my head. she sits down and climbs in when I remain standing. “SIT DOWN!” She pauses and stares at me with those gorgeous brown eyes I can’t resist. I wish she wouldn’t, it only makes this harder. She has to shoot me and I know how much she doesn’t want things this way. It’s still raining. I’m crying. I sit down and she drops the gun. Before I know it I’m up in her arms again, kissing her goodbye.

“BANG!” sounds the gun, just as she breaks away from my kiss. Her body pauses. Her face is stunned as I look at her one last time before I fall to the ground. She never knew. I had the gun the whole time. She was going to let the monster out of the hole. Selfishly I couldn’t let her do that. No matter the cost. Even my life.

Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, an altogether interesting story. Have you ever read it? Recommend if you haven’t. Anyway this was a story I'd written with a different spin a few years ago. I’d always envisioned it with the woman in the role of the one to be executed yet I didn’t in the original. Perhaps out of fear. Things are at a point where there’s no point in holding back out of hesitation. So here’s to the inevitable unknown… be well in all endeavors of life. enjoy the living, loving and breathing with the people in your life. kisses. m.

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