Prologue
The sun rise, halved by the water, reluctantly throws its light over the lake causing the calm surface to glitter like infinite diamonds. Your reflection in the water is framed by the silhouettes cast by the surrounding willows. They sway gently in the breeze, their long drooping branches heavy with morning dew. The pungent scent of petrol takes nothing away from the picturesque scenery. It’s a shame you cannot see its beauty.
The world has lost its lustre - its appeal. Under your hands, the car bonnet that you are sitting on is cool to the touch. Everything you see is clear but yet somehow blurry, focused but distant. To see colours again is more than you can ask for. To feel more than this overflowing emptiness is more than you can want. You used to want so much: you wanted to travel the world; have a one-night stand; actually finish writing a book; maybe even write an autobiography. You didn’t want to get married or have children, but adoption was always an option.
None of that will happen now.
Today is the day. The date you decided between yourselves. The day to treat the emptiness with nothingness - doctor’s orders. If only you were a fan of apples.
The chill doesn’t bite like it used to.
Petrol doesn’t make you feel faint anymore.
Oxygen just isn’t as essential as it once seemed.
Life has sucked you dry.
You feel his hand on your shoulder. Slowly, he massages your back and his arm encircles your waist, pulling you to his chest. His touch should disgust you, but it doesn’t - it undoes you.
“You stink of the stuff.” You whine, half-heartedly shoving at him.
He offers a wan grin. “I might have doused myself as well...” Pausing to press his lips to yours he continues. “I don’t want to risk this not working.”
It would be bad to spend a lifetime like that, you agree. You turn your eyes back to the lake. You should take the same precaution.
“You don’t have to do this, you know, if you don’t want to.” He reminds you.
“This was my idea, remember, I should be telling you that.”
He chuckles humourlessly into your hair. “You know how long I’ve wanted to do this. Ever since she…” He trails off.
Her piercing, coffee brown eyes are permanently burned into your retinas. “Not long now.”
He hums quietly, his fingers getting lost in your hair. Soon, someone will note your absence, but they will be too late to stop you.
Pulling out a lighter, he places a cigarette between his lips. They are beautiful, just like the rest of him.
“What?” He notices me staring. “It’s the last one I’ll ever have, give me a break.”
For someone who is supposed to care about the world and everything in it - including himself - he smokes like a chimney.
“I suppose I can’t warn you about the state of your lungs now, can I?” It won’t matter soon, you don’t say, but his worn expression shows he knows.
“Want a go?” He hands the cigarette out to you, and you have nothing to lose, so you reply, “Why not?”
The smoke tickles your lung on the first try. You begin to cough and your coughs become laughs. As if it was gonna help. As if it was going to fill the emptiness. Nothing else has. You hand the cigarette back.
He tosses it to the ground and stamps it out. The embers extinguish like dying hope.
“Well then!” He exclaims, taking your hand. “Shall we?” He gestures to the petrol soaked car.
You cast one last glance at the lake hoping something will change. Nothing does. You squeeze his fingers.
“We shall.”
