Grief

The metallic scent travelled to her nostrils, and she bit back the bike rising in her throat, as she stood back helplessly as her fragile fantasy world she had carefully built came crashing down around her. 

A silent scream tore through her throat. Her legs gave way and she collapsed to her knees.

It didn't feel real.

It still doesn't.

Maybe it was a nightmare she had yet to wake up from.

The mind is a fragile, innocuous thing. And to hers, death had always seemed to be an abstract concept. A foreign entity worth no more notice than a detached clinical interest, that horrifying fascination one might provide a bug with, reprehensible yet a tad engaging. 

People died every day, millions born in their place. And on and on it went. The cycle of nature. 

Humans were made to die. 

Then why was her mind unable to accept that single truth of life? Why did it still hurt? Why won't the nightmares stop their torment? Why did she have to fight every day with demons not even her own? Why was her mind stuck-

Why why why why why-

Why, when everyone recalled fond memories and got lost reminiscing the good times, she only remembered the life getting sucked out of her in a pool of her own blood in a second, which seemed like an eternity to her? 

She didn't believe it, then.

She couldn't die....could she? She wasn't dead.

Right....?

"Right?", she deliriously asked her brother, hoping for the affirmation she desperately desired, clinging to that frail string of hope. 

His silence was answer enough. 

The haunting screams echoed around the building, the glass shuddering and the wind wailing, as if sympathising with her plight. 

It was final. 

But why did her eyes keep hoping for a miracle? 

Death, was an abstract concept.

It only seemed logical to accept things as they were and move on.

Then why did her heart think otherwise, her eyes betraying her, tears seeping quietly against her will? 

She knew well that she was a coward, hiding behind the armour of a crass attitude towards life. She thought she could delude herself into turning a blind eye towards the harsh truths of nature. 

It shouldn't be much of a surprise then, when reality hit her smack in the face, unprepared, she lost her footing. 

Maybe. Maybe if she has acknowledged the fact that time was running out. 

Would she have done it all over again? 

Being in a room full of people with fond memories, will the scent of blood never leave her, keep haunting her like a never-ceasing shadow?

(Could she do it all over again?) 

She knew it was a fever dream. A child's folly.

A selfish desire. 

And yet.

It has been 2 years. 

The world has moved on. 

Life doesn't wait for you to steady yourself, it knocks you off your feet, and you learn by trial and become battle-hardened. It moves on. It'll always move on. 

(But can I? Will I? )

(Do I want to?)

"At least she'll keep her memories alive." She thought with a sardonic smile. 

Death. 

It was an abstract concept. 

Could one really be so hardened to the point to be desensitized to death, to suffering? 

Oh, what she wouldn't give to not feel pain. To be free of it all. 

She knew she was a coward. 

She pitied people who wished to be immortal, to watch countless loved ones waste away before your eyes, a life of misery not worth living. 

 

Death, death was a mercy. 

But grief-

Grief was a beautiful curse. 

It immortalizes their souls, in one way or another.